A Thing I Did

I was asked to speak at a wedding on Saturday night. This is what I came up with.

I am honored B asked me to share a few thoughts today, starting with the fact that it’s always been obvious that he and K are a perfect match. Casual observation is more than enough to see they connect, understand each other at an instinctual level, and are always at the top of each other’s thoughts. They have something special, and I’m delighted they are getting married today.

So . . . when you ask a librarian to say something at your wedding, you can’t be surprised if you get literary references in response. And when you ask a children’s librarian, you might even have to prepare yourself for the possibility of storytime. I’d like to share three brief pieces with you today: a poem, a hopefully humorous cautionary tale, and a quote.

Instructions
By Sheri Hostetler

Give up the world; give up self; finally, give up God.
Find god in rhododendrons and rocks,
passers-by, your cat.
Pare your beliefs, your absolutes.
Make it simple; make it clean.
No carry-on luggage allowed.
Examine all you have
with a loving and critical eye, then
throw away some more.
Repeat. Repeat.
Keep this and only this:
what your heart beats loudly for
what feels heavy and full in your gut.
There will only be one or two
things you will keep,
and they will fit lightly in your pocket.

Tadpole’s Promise
By Jeanne Willis
(abridged for brevity)

Where the willow meets the water, a tadpole met a caterpillar. They gazed into each other’s tiny eyes . . . and fell in love. She was his beautiful rainbow, and he was her shiny black pearl. “I love everything about you,” said the tadpole. “I love everything about you,” said the caterpillar. “Promise you’ll never change.” “I promise,” he said.

But as sure as the weather changes, the tadpole could not keep his promise. Next time they met, he had grown two legs. “You’ve broken your promise,” said the caterpillar. “Forgive me,” begged the tadpole. “I couldn’t help it. I don’t want these legs. . . . All I want is my beautiful rainbow.” “All I want is my shiny black pearl. Promise me you’ll never change,” said the caterpillar. “I promise,” he said.

[And as is so often the case in cautionary tales, the pattern repeats a second and third time. The tadpole gradually becomes a frog.] “You have broken your promise three times, and now you have broken my heart,” said the caterpillar. “But you are my beautiful rainbow,” said the tadpole. “Yes, but you are not my shiny black pearl. Good-bye.” She crawled up the willow branch and cried herself to sleep.

One warm moonlit night, she woke up. The sky had changed. The trees had changed. Everything had changed . . . except for her love for the tadpole. Even though he’d broken his promise, she decided to forgive him. She dried her wings and fluttered down to look for him.

Where the willow meets the water, a frog was sitting on a lily pad. “Excuse me,” she said. “Have you seen my shiny black . . . “ But faster than she could say “pearl,” the frog leapt up and swallowed her in one great gulp. And there he waits . . . thinking fondly of his beautiful rainbow . . . wondering where she went.

Quote
Something Mark Twain wrote in one of his notebooks in 1894:

Love seems the swiftest, but it is the slowest of all growths. No man or woman really knows what perfect love is until they have been married a quarter of a century.

Finally, a few words of my own about marriage. Today is just the start. Plan to grow and change together. Plan to grow and change separately. Be each your own self, and savor sharing who you are with your other. Always see the best in each other and reflect it back so the other knows what you see. Offer honey, not vinegar. Provide solace, compassion, and unconditional support. Don’t sweat the small stuff. Trust. Communicate. And remember that our habits make us who we are, so find time every day for the good-bye kisses, welcome home hugs, and quiet gestures that embody your love.