Wedding Bells!

It’s time for this week’s column, and I’ve got lots of ideas to write about, such as the current success of the Tribe, the renaissance of Cleveland, and Circling the City with Love. I also wanted to write about The Salvation Army’s care for first responders during the RNC, with a shout-out to my husband for his faithful service. But instead, I must turn to our family life for this week’s column, because my baby boy is getting married today.

In one of my first columns for the Ashland Times-Gazette, I wrote of my anxiety over choosing a dress for my firstborn’s wedding, and how I ended up with navy blue (same hue as my Salvation Army uniform), although with an added touch of bling. That was then, in 2008, and this is now. As the old Virginia Slims tag-line witnessed, “You’ve come a long way, baby,” because my dress for Dan and Becky’s wedding shimmers with color!

It’s been almost two years since I first met the future Mrs. Shade. She was the chief counselor at Camp NEOSA in Carrollton, and had just taken care of a sick child on a hot and humid night, leaving an unpleasant odor lingering in the air. Yet under those less-than-ideal circumstances, I could see her compassionate spirit in action, and her dazzling smile told me everything I needed to know about her budding love for our son.

I’ve enjoyed watching their relationship develop, as they’ve navigated and negotiated the path to this day. They first met in their freshman year at Mount Vernon Nazarene University, but that didn’t go so well. A serendipitous change of plans for Dan in the summer of 2014 brought them together again, and the rest is history.

They have built their relationship and planned their wedding in a deliberate and thoughtful manner, not surprising for a young man who has always kept his DVDs (and ours) in alphabetical order. It seems only fitting that he is marrying Rebecca, Queen of Lists.

As I think about the act of two people joining together in marriage, I realize how courageous it is. I’m not sure of the exact wording of the vows they will repeat to each other, but the traditional words of “for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, until death us do part” are challenging. How do we ever keep those vows?

Lewis Smedes suggests that we do so with a commitment that is “reborn each day by our reliable presence, renewed by acts of care, resurrected by generous forgiveness.” He continues: “Committed love is a paradoxical power, because it is a power to surrender. . . Committed love is a power to surrender our right to get what we desire so that the person we love can get what he or she needs. When my desire conflicts with your need, I will opt for your needs - if my love is committed love.” There’s some unsolicited advice for you, Becky and Dan.

They’ve also discovered the truth of the ancient text from Ecclesiastes 4:12. “If one prevail against him, two shall withstand him, and a threefold cord is not quickly broken.” This image of the threefold cord symbolizes the weaving of faith into their relationship. If marriage is defined as two becoming one, then how much stronger will it be as the third cord of God’s presence is braided into their marriage.

When awaiting Dan’s birth, I wondered if my heart could stretch enough to fully love a third child, for we’d been a family of four for six years. Yet it didn’t take long for that little one to claim my heart – probably about two minutes. That expansive ability of love has welcomed Lauren as a beloved daughter-in-law and has been smitten with the lovely Madelyn Simone and the delightful Elizabeth Holiday. Now, today, we make it official. There’s room for one more. Welcome to the family, Rebecca Elizabeth Ott Shade. As I used to sing Ernie Rettino’s words to your precious husband every night, “We’re glad that you have come to share your life with us!”

The Song of a Little Girl

I opened my computer screen last Friday morning, ready to get a head start on my planned Ashland Chautauqua column. But first, a quick check on the Tribe score (they lost), and a scroll through Facebook. I knew I’d see the names Alton Sterling and Philandro Castile, but I had no idea those names would be joined by news of a massacre in Dallas.

Now, in the aftermath of the vicious sniper attack at a peaceful rally against violence in Dallas, we tremble. We tremble in the shadow of the Republican National Convention, not too many miles away, where the hoopla inside the “Q” will be challenged by the protests on the streets of Cleveland. As hatred is live-streamed across our country through social media, it’s no longer if the other shoe will drop; instead, it’s the question of which shoe it will be today, where that shoe will land.

As we tremble, some choose to turn off television, cancel the newspaper, leave Facebook, ignore Twitter. Perhaps if we don’t hear about it, it won’t be real. Others withdraw in fear, as the prophet Jeremiah described centuries ago: “Death has crept in through our windows and has entered our mansions. It has killed off the flower of our youth: Children no longer play in the streets, and young men no longer gather in the squares.” And then the sorrow, as Jeremiah knew so well. We “teach our daughters to wail, we teach one another how to lament.”

But even as we tremble, we can respond with courage, with resolve. In Dallas, Police Chief David Brown displayed that resolve. “We’re hurting. Our profession is hurting. Dallas officers are hurting. We are heartbroken. There are no words to describe the atrocity that occurred to our city. All I know is that this must stop, this divisiveness between our police and our citizens.”

Chief Brown and his department have worked hard to lessen that divisiveness in recent years, with extensive training in conflict de-escalation techniques and an on-going emphasis on community policing. Despite the actions of one man who chose to take matters into his own hands on July 7, their courage and commitment will continue to improve the city of Dallas.

When considering how change has occurred over the course of America’s history, we see it modeled in the actions of courageous people, like Chief Brown, who have continued on despite personal tragedy. When Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated in 1968, Bobby Kennedy was running for president, with a campaign rally scheduled for inner city Indianapolis. Urged to cancel the rally, he wouldn’t agree. “I’m going to go there, and that’s it.” After announcing King’s death with a trembling voice, he spoke of his pain in the loss of his brother John. Yet he didn’t stop there. “What we need in the United States is not division; what we need in the United States is not hatred; what we need in the United States is not violence and lawlessness, but is love, and wisdom, and compassion toward one another, and a feeling of justice toward those who still suffer within our country, whether they be white or whether they be black.” Riots broke out in more than one hundred cities that week, but not in Indianapolis.

As for Ashland Chautauqua, my planned column, this week brings the presentation of “Voices of Freedom” to the Myers Band Shell. In their own words, Harriet Tubman, Lucy Stone, Mary Chesnut, Frederick Douglass, and Susan B. Anthony will echo a cry for peace and justice, as they remind us of the struggles of abolition and women’s suffrage, of the horrors of the Civil War and of a nation divided. Their actions altered history, yet still carry significance for today.

The lovely Madelyn Simone attended day camp last week, and Thursday afternoon she sang the beautiful yet haunting melody she learned there: “Shalom, my friend, shalom, shalom.” As our nation reels once again in the aftermath of the heinous actions of a few, might we listen again to the ancient prophet, to Chief Brown, to Robert F. Kennedy, to the 19^th century voices of freedom, and to the song of a little girl. Shalom, shalom.

What Kind of Song Is That?

When the lovely Madelyn Simone and the delightful Elizabeth Holiday travel in the car with me, we enjoy listening to a variety of children’s songs. As a new CD played last week (yep, I’m still that old-school), Madelyn asked me, with a bit of a sarcastic tone, “What kind of song is that, Nana?” I was reminded of her question on Sunday night as Larry and I listened to the Ashland Symphony Orchestra and the Ashland Area Chorus perform “Battle Hymn of the Republic,” because that was the song from the car. “Glory, glory hallelujah, his truth is marching on.”

“What kind of song is that, Nana?” It’s a song from our history, Madelyn, a song that comes to us from Civil War days. It’s a folk song tune, but the words we know were written by abolitionist Julia Ward Howe in 1861, as the terrible war was tearing our country apart. Its verses tell an apocalyptic-flavored story of a victorious God, “He hath sounded forth the trumpet that shall never call retreat,” and link the sacrifice of Jesus to our continued willingness to die to preserve liberty; “As he died to make men holy, let us die to make men free.” Glory, glory, hallelujah!

Ward’s song, historically in the patriotic genre (although with no mention of our nation), is not alone in its war-time origins. “God Bless America,” an Irving Berlin staple, was penned towards the end of World War I, and then revived in the months leading up to World War II, when Kate Smith noted the storm clouds gathering, “far across the sea.” “Let us pledge allegiance to a land that’s free,” pleaded Smith. Indeed, “God bless America, [our] home sweet home.”

“The Star Spangled Banner,” which the audience sang so heartily on Sunday night at the Myers Band Shell, was from an earlier war, the War of 1812. Francis Scott Key penned those words while watching the British attack the embattled Fort McHenry, only to see the “broad stripes and bright stars” still waving as the morning light appeared. “O say, can you see . . .”

One of the highlights of orchestral programs on Independence Day weekend is the “1812 Overture.” While I knew it was by Tchaikovsky, I was vague on its history, supposing it too was somehow connected to the war of 1812. Not! With Google at my fingertips, I checked it out just as Maestro Lipsky gave the downbeat to its majestic notes, and discovered that its melodies and rhythms were birthed as the composer told the story of Napoleon’s invasion of Russia in 1812. Same year, different continent. The overture, complete with choir, chimes, and an enthusiastic cannon, is impressive, but even more so is its history, as a far-outnumbered Russian army is miraculously able to defend its homeland, with divine intervention in the shape of its ferocious winter.

Another audience favorite, designed to honor those who’ve served in the United States military, often appears on these programs, and it did again on Sunday. “Armed Forces Salute,” arranged by Bob Lowden and narrated by Vietnam veteran John Cadley, reprises the tunes associated with each branch of the service, from “The Caisson Song” to “Anchors Away,” bookended by “America the Beautiful.” The Army, Coast Guard, Marines, Air Force, Merchant Marines, and Navy veterans proudly stood at attention to receive our community’s salute. I imagined my veteran dad standing among them, absent in the body but present in the great cloud of witnesses whose shoulders we stand upon today.

What kind of song, Madelyn? These are songs of our nation, songs of a brave heritage, a purposeful foundation. Whether performed by the Dover Gutter Band (our 1978 introduction to patriotism in Dover, New Jersey), or by the Cleveland Symphony Orchestra on Public Square (a necessary once in a lifetime experience), these melodies are woven into the fabric of our country’s narrative, giving expression to who we are as a people.

That’s why we sing, to affirm that “we the people” stand together as Americans, in a pledge that our flag will continue to wave “o’er the land of the free and the home of the brave.” Glory, glory, hallelujah!