That night in 1985 was one I will never forget. It changed my life forever.
Just over a day earlier my fiancee, Joyce and I had wrestled with Elena, a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico, as it churned in the warm waters offshore, giving no hint of the direction it would travel. Our wedding rehearsal was scheduled that Thursday, but residents of the city of New Orleans had decided that they didn’t want to accept the company of this angry stranger, so their cars were “parked” on Interstate-10 heading west out of town toward Baton Rouge.
The men in our wedding party had joined me late that afternoon to pick up our tuxedos and run other necessary errands before heading home to prepare for the rehearsal and the subsequent dinner. Only we never got home.
The “parking lot” on the highway refused to give way, even for a wedding candidate. I was stuck, unable to get home, get cleaned up and find appropriate clothes to wear for the evening. Panicky and frustrated, I discovered one of my groomsmen had an extra shirt, with a neck measurement three sizes too big and in a color I wouldn’t have chosen for such an occasion. On the other hand, it was clean and available and so I headed to see my bride and our wedding party in someone else’s clothes!
The rehearsal as I remember it was a mess. There were many moments of confusion and some tense and anxious moments with family. We were pressed for information and details that were still undecided. But we got through it, and on out into the evening to travel to the West End for our group dinner reservation at a most well-known French restaurant in the city.
But Elena, the fickle storm that wouldn’t commit, was still troubling the patrons of this annually anxious city. With her sitting offshore, the restaurant had made the decision to close early, with one exception: us! I’m fully convinced that had we not secured a reservation for this special event months before, we would not have been welcomed that night, either. The windows were boarded up and all unnecessary personnel had been sent home. The restaurant had an uncommon silence to it; an eerie feeling that accompanied us through the evening. Then there were the servers: they were determined to “rush” us through every course as quickly as possible. We could certainly understand and yet, I felt angry and frustrated. It had not turned out as planned.
Wedding day started in much the same way. I awakened to discover the indecisive Elena was still sitting offshore and rendering us incapable of being sure we could safely travel away from the city for our wedding night plans. So, with less than twelve hours until our anticipated arrival I had to cancel our wedding night location and scramble to find another, one in town and very close by. Later in the day, the stress on my dad, who was performing the ceremony grew heavy in the thick, humid air that blanketed our hometown. He lay on the floor in front of an oscillating fan, trying to find a way to cool down. I knew in my heart that it wasn’t simply the physical heat of the day; the wedding was getting to him, too.
Then the time arrived. The hurricane that never appeared had cleared the sky, so that it was a deep, beautiful blue draping the route to the church. The church people and friends had failed to get that message though, and thinking Elena was still on her way to join us, they had determined there wouldn’t be enough “room” for them, too. Many stayed away—far away, like Baton Rouge and Hammond.
And of course, the photographer was running late, so we sat and waited for what seemed like hours as the organist droned on and on two, then three times as long as expected before the ceremony actually began. By this time Dad was pacing, and sweating again…a lot.
The word finally came that my bride was ready to enter the sanctuary, and with that the languishing details of the previous 24 hours melted into a blur of humbling bliss and beauty. The most wonderful woman I’d ever met was marrying me! ME! I didn’t believe it then, and I still wonder, how? why? to this very day.
Sunday we celebrated our 24th anniversary, and truth be told, I still don’t know why she fell in love with me. She’s way too good for me; far too beautiful; exceedingly beyond my grasp. She is a constant and glorious reminder of God’s grace to me, and I thank Him daily for her.
Twenty-four years ago she took a chance on me, and she’s breathed meaning into every step along the path of life. She is the reason I get up in the morning; she is the last thing I want to see at night. She is the song in my heart; she is the love of my life and my best friend.
So these hot August nights, they bring back a rush of memories. Memories of confusion and crazed activity. Memories of hurricanes and boarded-up buildings. Memories of beauty and peace. But most of all, memories of you, Joyce, and the way (thankfully) you have changed my life forever.
As Neil Diamond would say, “good times never seemed so good...” May God grant us many, many more!






















