Weddings, Dear Friends, and Paris

This is a picture we took just for you, Leona-

We're only 75% of the bird girls, and we couldn't remember a single bit of our choreography, so you'll have to settle for some cute shoes and all our love.

Yes, we were all at a wedding and looking fantastic. This was I think the last wedding from that circle of friends that came to me as a result of the most fantastic summer of my life. We did Seussical, we forged great friendships, I moved to Minnesota and the rest of everyone got married. Ann Marie wasn't in Seussical with us, but she was a roommate in that house where I ended up moving and we all got to be so close. Ann Marie was the Bride on this lovely day:

And it was absolutely perfect. 70 degrees and sunny and a light breeze and the best part of all was hanging out with those wonderful friends. Even if they didn't want their picture taken...

And I should take this moment to say thank you to the grandma's that take care of little ones so that I can play with their mommies and daddies for a day. I know you didn't do it for me, but I sure am a grateful recipient anyways. It truly was a day that recalled all the good moments of that summer.

We danced

Even I danced, although I have no pictures and I'm not sure that any of the pictures that were taken should ever be seen by the general public....

And we ate. And we laughed. (I think our table at the luncheon was perhaps too loud, but the reminiscing and the fun was just so good...)

And I cried.

I didn't cry during the ceremony, which was one of the most beautiful I have attended. No, just like usual, mine was the only dry eye in the room.

I didn't cry because all of my friends are so happily married and I stick out like a sore thumb or a seventh wheel everytime we do something together. I'm actually pretty happy with life, and don't mind one bit being the spare with a group of people that don't mind having one.

I didn't cry when I saw old friends and held their babies and shared litttle bits of their happiness.

I didn't cry when I saw people whose friendships I may have lost due to some neglect or stupidity I have committed.

I didn't cry when I saw some of the sorrows that my firnds have endured in the past 3 years either.

I cried when he told me he was taking her to Paris.

And it was kind of awkward, because nobody there had ever seen me cry before. So I feel like I owe you an explanation. And now that I am in the privacy of my home, where I can cry without making you feel strange at having to see, I will tell you something about my tears.

Paris is an important thing to me. For all that it represents as far as pop culture goes, I couldn't care less, and for all that it was to me as a missionary I don't expect anyone else to appreciate. But there is a part of Paris that is perhaps born of bits of each of those things that everyone should experience. Maybe not Paris itself. And maybe not as a missionary. But the happiness, definitely. And when I say "Paris", recognize that I might not be talking about a specific location or a certain calling to fulfill, but I am talking about what that specific combination created for me. I was happy in Paris. I'm not telling you this because of some lack of happiness now, just that what was then was then and it was good. I was really happy there and it had everything to do with having a purpose to my life that was so much more than mere survival. I was happy there because I had a job to do and I had no insecurities whatsoever about the importance of that job nor about my ability to accomplish it. I was also happy there because I knew what I was doing and how to do it. Because I was meeting my own expectations for myself. And also, because I understood the culture and the people and the beauty of that place. And somehow, the art and the culture and the expectations and the work and even the perceptions of people around me brought me to a better understanding of myself. You know the movie Sabrina? When she comes back home and is seeing the old town again and the old people again and she simply says "I found myself in Paris". Well I know exactly what she means. I got to know myself in Paris. I made important decisions about who I want to be in Paris. I learned that it was possible to be that person in Paris. I still believe to this day that I can become that person, because of Paris. But I am less sure now that I can do it without Paris.

Which is why the tears came to my eyes when he said "I'm taking her to Paris". Because I miss it. I miss that surety of every step that came with Paris for me. And while I'm pretty sure that everyone's Paris is something and someplace different, my Paris is Paris. And as a result of that, I feel like Paris is mine. So my tears at that moment were little more than a touch of jealousy, a wish for something I feel like I've lost and a hope for something I haven't ever had. I want somebody to take me to Paris.

Of course, I got over it by changing the subject and pretending like the tears never happened. It takes a certain kind of strength to maintain emotional constipation for as many years as I have. If you catch me by surprise, you might see it again, but you would have to be watching pretty closely.