Gloria, In Excelsis Deo

Most Mondays are too long. And this one was no different. After a long day of office work, teaching my evening religion class, and praying with our worship team following their practice, I needed a little decompression time. Somewhere close to 10:00 p.m., I sat down for the first time in several hours, flipped over to “Family Guy,” and started to unwind.

Our oldest daughter had stayed up too late working on Valentines for classmates and other friends (which by the way meant that I had to make a 9:30 p.m. run to the store to get blow pops to attach to each Valentine.) “Time for bed,” I said, reminding her that mom and baby sister were already asleep. “Can I watch a little bit of TV?” she asked. “Sure, but just for a little while.” This meant that I could withdraw to loosen whatever was making my neck and shoulders tight.

Back to “Family Guy.”

Not even 60 seconds after tuning in and moving pillows to make sure I was comfortable, I heard the TV from my daughter’s room. It was a great organ rendition of “Angels We Have Heard on High.” My first thought was, “How nice? Disney is getting religious in some way.” The organ prelude continued and I knew something else was going on. I went to her room and found that she was watching our wedding video!

I saw our wedding attendants entering the sanctuary on a cool December day in 1992. I saw a beautiful bride escorted down the aisle to marry me. I saw my sister shed tears of joy as her baby “bubba” married his high school sweetheart. I saw great granddaddy sitting with his daughter my grandmother. I saw Grandma Duffy. I saw children who are now adults. I saw young men and women who are now dead. I saw gay folks who were still in the closet. I saw marriages that are now divorces, teachers that are now friends, and friends that I wish I knew their email addresses. I saw Ken who died of something I can’t remember. I saw Bethany who died because a drunk man decided to drive. Bethany used to call me Elvis. I saw my sideburns which is probably why she called me Elvis.

We watched the vows. We heard “for better or worse, in poverty or wealth.” But, the most striking thing came as the bride and groom prayed on the kneeling bench. One of our friends sang a long, slow version of “The Lord Prayer.” I sat on the edge of the bed with tear-filled eyes knowing that I was watching the most significant worship service of my life.

Then, in a tone that is unique to an eight year old, our daughter says, “Aren’t you glad you broke up with that other girl?!!”

Yes. I am.