Pastor Jeb Miller wasn’t sure that he’d ever enjoyed a wedding more. Cissy Locke, the bride—and formerly his secretary—wore the bodice of her grandmother’s wedding gown with a white skirt. A pillbox hat and veil perched atop her curly, upswept, orange-red hair. Sally, the weepy mother of the bride, offered the couple the wedding bands that she and Cissy’s late father had worn so happily.
As best man rather than officiant, Jeb plotted a course to Hollis, Oklahoma. Along the way, Gil Valenzuela, the groom, used his cell phone to locate a florist and order a bouquet for the bride. He stood up in his best jeans, dress boots, white shirt and string tie. Jeb surprised Gil by arranging an interface on his laptop with Gil’s family back in South Dakota, so they could witness the simple ceremony.
The newly joined Mr. and Mrs. Valenzuela made the one-hundred-plus-mile ride back to Grasslands snuggling in the rear seat of the young pastor’s sedan while discussing the next day’s big move. Gil would lead the caravan of donated goods in his old truck, Cissy at his side, leaving her junker behind to be sold.
They arrived at the church, where a reception had been organized. Belle Colby offered a guest cottage on the Colby ranch for the wedding night.
Because they would be leaving for Mexico at five o’clock the next morning, the evening would, by necessity, end early, so Jeb declared the reception over by midafternoon, reasoning that the newlyweds ought to have a few hours alone. Before everyone departed, however, he paraphrased 2 Peter 1:2–3 as a blessing on the couple.
“Grace and peace be yours in abundance through our Lord, who has called you by His own glory and goodness and given you everything you need for a godly life. Always remember,” he added, “that you are called first and foremost to love.”
Watching them together, he didn’t think that would be a problem. No, the only problem he could see, as the bride and groom dashed through a shower of rice toward Cissy’s old car, decorated from bumper to bumper, was that of replacing the church secretary. Hearing his sigh, Belle Colby stepped up to his side.
“Don’t worry, Pastor. God has just the right person for the job. In fact,” she went on, handing him a folded sheet of paper, “the personnel committee just received this résumé. Name’s Sadie Johnson. Looks like a real good match.”
Jeb tucked the single sheet into his jacket pocket. Funny how even the simplest wedding could make a fellow hopeful about the future.
THE END