fine

Josh hands Riley a gift bag, jolly red and green, plump with surprises and spilling over with tissue, and we all sit forward, anticipating grace.

All through Advent, I have been thinking:  On the surface of things, at least according to the understanding of their time, Mary and Joseph should never have married.  I’ve been thinking about what it says about God, that He chose to fold His own holy vastness into flesh and be born beneath the uncomprehending scorn of a community to a virgin no one believed to be a virgin anymore.  Even Joseph, before an angel came to him in a dream, had in mind to sever their engagement quietly.

First, Riley pulls out a t-shirt, white, with a sunset-pink hibiscus and the word Jamaica scrolling across in script, a souvenir from a trip.  Everywhere our families go, we buy t-shirts for Josh and Riley, both of whom exchange clothing emblazoned with destinations like love notes.  It’s as if they mean to say, wherever I go, I take you with me.

For years, Josh has been giving Riley gifts, and not just on birthdays and holidays.  During the years they went to school together, she brought home something from Josh nearly every day, everything from candy bars to trinkets to clothes.  Once, she even brought home Josh’s baby album.  For years, he’s been telling her in the only way he knows how, everything I have is yours.

Riley pulls out a bag of M&Ms, exclaiming with delight.

Ray and I, the two parents who just happen to be sitting closest to Riley and Josh, begin discreetly removing random items from the foreground of our photos—discarded wrapping paper, a napkin, a box.  Except for Riley, everyone in the room knows that below these gifts is another gift, a life-changing one.  It’s always this way, isn’t it?  Below the signs of grace rests the grace itself.

 “And I have another gift,” Riley is saying, as she reaches deeper into the gift bag on her lap.  Beside her, Josh groans, burying his face in one palm.  Riley giggles, sensing but not entirely understanding Josh’s nervousness.

In Joseph’s dream, the angel said, Don’t be afraid to take Mary home as your wife.  I’ve been wondering about the moment when Joseph rose from that dream and went to tell Mary he believed in God’s unconventional, foolishness-to-the-perishing ways, when Joseph told Mary he still wanted to marry her.  Was she giggling with wonder, the gift tucked deep?  Was he all joy, but groaning a little, with his head in his hands?  Sometimes Kevin and I still receive God’s gifts that way.

Riley has already torn the paper from that little box, has already dropped a curl of red ribbon in her open lap.

In our time, God still chooses the weak things of the world to shame the strong, the things that are not to nullify the things that are, so that no one may boast before Him.

“I got a ring!” Riley says, her smile suddenly dazzling wide, her face all light.

“Josh,” Camille calls, because she knows the gallantry her son had planned, and she knows his nerves threaten to get the better of him.  Don’t be afraid, her voice says.

“Okay, fine,” Josh says.  “Fine, fine!”

I smile, wondering how that word fine, that in the mid-13^th century meant unblemished and pure, that word probably formed from the Latin finis, which means an outer limit, or the highest good, got watered down to what we now make of it.  As he speaks, Josh pulls his face away from his hands and spins down on one knee in front of Riley, turning toward her and away from all of us.  Just like that, the circle closes, like a ring.  Josh opens his eyes, but only when it’s just Riley’s face he sees in front of him.

Scripture is full of unconventional relationships and accounts of people who shouldn’t have been able but were able because God is able.  Sarah gave birth to Isaac in her eighties.  Moses, self-described as “slow of speech and tongue,” was God’s chosen leader to bring the Israelites out of slavery in Egypt.  The boy David brought down a giant of a man with a sling and a stone.  The twelve disciples, who should never have been able to get along and who were “unschooled and ordinary men” changed the world with the message of Christ.  The binding tie runs on eternally.  It seems God has always been trying to get us to focus on the He instead of the we, or as wise Solomon wrote, to acknowledge God instead of leaning on our own understanding.  God is the third cord in an unbreakable union.  All of history is the story of what God can do.

“Will you marry—,” Josh starts, and Riley spills her bold yes before he can even finish asking his question.

“Yes, I’ll marry you!” She holds out her hand so Josh can slide that ring on her finger.

The room floods with joy.  We clap our hands and cheer and wipe tears away with our fingers.  Standing there watching us, you might think we have forgotten how hard it is.  You might think we’ve lost sight of the challenges.  But of course, we haven’t.  How could we forget the life we live every day?  We’ve just learned to trust in a much bigger story.

At some point in all our celebrating, Ray leans toward me, smiles and says, “We’ve got time.  And with all the love in their lives, those two are going to be just fine.”