A Twofer Christmas Wedding, Part Two

Rewind to 11:30. I’m at my desk, working up a sweat. Karen had finally agreed to meet with Harry over lunch at the parsonage during her half-hour break, but the hurt was too deep to consider reconciliation. I believed Harry’s faith was genuine. Though he probably faced jail, he longed to ask Karen’s forgiveness and tell he loved her. I racked my brain. What could I say to soften Karen’s heart?

The phone rang and I jumped. It was Ruth, the town florist. She said a young Wisconsin couple had bought flowers and asked if she knew a minister who would marry them. And they will need  witnesses–they don’t know a soul in town. When? I asked. Right now—their honeymoon Greyhound leaves at one o’clock. I’m sorry, I said, but I have an appointment—a bell dinged.  Send them over! Tell them to arrive at noon. I called Elsie to delay lunch.

I introduced the bridal couple to Karen and Harry at the church door and described the situation. Would you mind serving as marriage witnesses before lunch?

We gathered on the platform about where a few years before Karen and Harry had  exchanged vows. My mini-ceremony stressed husbands love your wives as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her. The couple said I do and hurried off; Harry and Karen stood close. We moved them into a small apartment just after New Year’s.

Thirty years later I pause overnight in the town and Harry and Karen hosted me in their home. I attended a Bible study led by Harry. He served as vice chairman of the church.

How’s that for a twofer made in heaven?

Old Grandpa Lloyd