EMILY
“Okay, Chris, keep your eyes closed.”
Our little girls squealed and clapped with excitement as I trailed into the living room in my ivory lace wedding dress. Chris sat in the living room waiting for me, still wearing the blindfold I had tied around him a few minutes earlier.
“Miss Emily, you look so pretty!” Sara, our now seven-year-old, sighed. I grinned at her as I stood behind Chris.
“Are you ready?” I asked.
“Ready.”
In ten months Chris went from being unable to take a single step to walking side by side with me well beyond seven yards. He poured everything he had into his hours of training, teaching his body to put one foot in front of the other without the support of someone walking in front of him. Now, one week out from our wedding, it was time for a dress rehearsal. We remembered from Chris’s graduation walk that every detail, from the length of my dress to the shoes we wore, could mean the difference between successfully walking and tripping and falling. I purposely picked a dress that wasn’t too poofy and didn’t have a crazy hemline. The only catch was, I still didn’t want him to see me before our wedding day. That’s where the blindfold came in.
I helped Chris place his hands in mine and stood him up. “This will probably be a little easier when you can actually see,” I laughed.
I slipped my arm around his waist and placed my other hand in front for support while Chris held onto my shoulders with one arm. I carefully shuffled my dress out of his way, and we took a step forward. Then another. Then another. I held Chris’s midsection steady as he moved across our living room.
“Feeling good?”
He nodded. “We’ve got this,” he said confidently.
“I think we’re good,” I agreed. “I’m comfortable in my dress. And if you step on it, I’d rather that happen after we’ve already taken photos.”
Chris laughed. “Agreed.”
Our oldest foster daughter, Cali, stared at us. “You’re not going to practice more?”
I shrugged. “I know we can do it. And anyway, that’s not what our wedding day is about.”
I wasn’t exaggerating. I almost felt eerily calm about our wedding day. I wasn’t worried that we couldn’t make the walk or whether the kids would act up or if some detail had fallen through the cracks. Up until now everything had clicked into place, and not because of Chris or me. God’s hand had already been all over our wedding. I knew he had a plan and was going to see it through to the end.
For the weekend of the wedding, we planned for everyone, including the seven of us, to stay at a hotel next to our venue. Those plans seemed so simple when I made them. But getting all five kids and everything everyone needed for the weekend proved to be just a little more difficult, which is a huge understatement. I ran around like a crazy person, rounding up the flower girl dresses and ring bearer tuxedos and making sure everyone had their hair ribbons and shoes. But the chaos was totally worth it. Chris and I were so excited to have everyone in one place where we could spend time with our family and friends.
In the madness of packing up the kids, I turned to Chris every so often and grinned. “I can’t wait to marry you.”
CHRIS
The week before our wedding, I had to fly out of state for a few speaking engagements. Each flight, I spent the entire time in the air working on a special wedding surprise for Emily: I wrote out our love story in the form of a poem. By the time I was finished, my wrist was worn out to the point where I had to wear a brace. I told Emily I wrote too many emails, but I don’t know how convincing I was.
As the day of our wedding drew closer, I continued training for the wedding walk. This time around, the walk was a goal, but it wasn’t the point. The point was celebrating a new beginning. Seven years ago, when I found myself lying on a stretcher, unable to move anything except my head, I worried I was doomed to spend the rest of my life alone. I wondered who could possibly love me when I couldn’t take care of myself. Now God had blessed me with a girl way out of my league, who not only loved me but also pushed me to live for others and gave me a richer, more satisfying life than I could have imagined. I only got one shot at marrying this girl. One shot at a wedding. I could barely even nibble on fruit or carrots, my stomach was so full of nervous butterflies. I couldn’t wait for that moment when I saw Emily in her dress. I knew my excited nerves would turn to pure joy.
EMILY
My eyes fluttered open the morning of April 21, and I immediately checked the weather. My app predicted overcast skies and a high in the low eighties. Perfect, I thought.
When I imagined my wedding day, I always thought I would feel nervous. Isn’t that what brides are supposed to feel? But I didn’t. Instead, I felt overwhelmed with a sense of peace. I knew I was supposed to marry Chris. And I wasn’t nervous about everyone watching me as I vowed to be his wife.
Marisa, Whittley, and my mom joined me in my hotel room for breakfast, along with the other ladies in my bridal party. We laughed and chatted as a stylist curled and coiffed my hair and a makeup artist finished my makeup.
My mom zipped up my dress, then stood back with tears in her eyes. “Oh, Emily,” she cried. “You look so beautiful.”
“Stop! Don’t make my eye makeup run!” I said, fanning my eyes as if I could dry my tears. “Chris hasn’t seen me yet.”
Originally, I told Chris I didn’t want him to see me until I walked down the aisle. I love traditions, and that’s what I had imagined for my wedding. But as the day crept closer, we realized that would mean we barely saw each other on our own wedding day. We wouldn’t have time to talk, much less enjoy the day. We changed gears and instead decided on what photographers call a “first look.”
Three hours before the wedding, our photographer led me to a quiet, secluded area away from the rest of the wedding party, surrounded by trees and flowers. I broke into a smile as I saw Chris waiting there in his navy suit, facing away from me.
“Chris,” I said, tapping him on the shoulder.
The look on his face as he turned around was priceless. He took in every inch of me as he smiled, his face practically glowing.
“You look amazing!” he said as I knelt down to hug him. I climbed into his lap and closed my eyes, placing my forehead on his. This right here is what it’s all about, I thought.
“I have a surprise for you,” Chris said.
“What?” I said, genuinely surprised.
“I wrote you a poem; it’s inside my jacket,” he said.
Now I was downright shocked. “You wrote what? When did you even have time to do that?” I reached inside his jacket and grabbed the poem.
“Remember when I had to wear that brace? This is why.”
I laughed as his poem began with our awkward text messages and our first date at a hot dog stand. My laughter turned to tears as he described how he felt about me in those early days, and how deeply he loves me now.
“Although you scare me with your ideas, I’m excited for our future and what lies ahead, even if it means taking on more than five kids,” he read.
Then he added, “That was a joke. Don’t take that seriously.”
I burst out laughing. “I do take that seriously.”
“Let’s never forget, our strength comes from God. Faith is what is most important. I love you so much,” his poem ended.
I held his face in my hands and kissed him. “I love you too, Chris,” I whispered. “I’m so thankful for you and for how far we’ve come.”
“It’s crazy to think of where we were just a year ago,” he said. “I have never had more confidence in us than I do today. I can’t wait to see what the future has for us. This feels so right.”
All I could do was nod as I wiped tears from my eyes. “I am so lucky I get to be your wife.”
CHRIS
My heart pounded as I heard the string quartet play their first few chords of the wedding music. My parents stood next to me, waiting for the wedding coordinator to give us the nod that it was time to go. This is it, I thought.
I could see the rows of white chairs set up on the golf green, each one filled with someone we loved. I searched until I could see our first foster daughter Ella sitting in the crowd—she was only eleven months old, so unfortunately, she wasn’t able to be in the wedding. We’d invited Trevor and Ella along with their grandparents and mother, who was in the process of being reunited with them.
Our four-year-old foster son and previous foster son Trevor both shifted nervously next to me, playing with the box and the sign they were going to carry down the aisle. “Are you guys ready?” I asked them. They nodded seriously. It was obvious they didn’t take their job as ring bearers lightly—even though the ring box was empty. No use telling them that, though.
When we got the signal, my mom walked by my side as my dad pushed me down the aisle. My eyes soaked in each detail as we made our way toward the front. The aisle runner, the music, the flowers draped over the row ends and the arch—everything was beyond incredible. It was well outside the scope of what we could have afforded without everyone’s generous donations. I couldn’t believe this was actually our wedding.
My parents hugged me as we reached the front, and I turned to wait for Emily. As I watched our sisters and Whittley walk down the aisle, I thought back to what Emily had said for years: “You better cry when I walk down the aisle.” Every time, I told her, “Ah, don’t get your hopes up. I’m not a crier. If you cry, I might too, but don’t bank on it.”
Then, in the distance, I saw her standing arm in arm with her parents. Like so many years ago, when I first saw her walking toward the Super Dog hot dog stand, my heart pounded as I took in her beauty. I had seen her not an hour before this, but now, in this moment, I was completely overwhelmed with joy and happiness. Tears filled my eyes as I thought, Oh my goodness. This is the girl I get to spend the rest of my life with.
I locked eyes with her as she walked down the aisle, holding her bouquet and smiling ear to ear. This woman is going to be my wife, I thought. Not my girlfriend. Not my fiancée. My wife. I knew beyond a doubt that Emily was my match. There was no one else for me. I thought of the sacred vow we were about to make, the bond we would share as husband and wife. And then, to my surprise, the tears flowed.
Emily bent down to hug me when she reached the end of the aisle, and we held hands as the pastor prayed for us. We stole looks at one another and smiled as he delivered the wedding message. We promised to love each other for better or worse, in sickness and in health, ’til death do us part, and exchanged rings. But my favorite part of the ceremony came at the pastor’s suggestion.
He had the idea that we take communion together and share a moment to ourselves. As someone from our church sang “When I Say I Do” by Matthew West, we turned our backs to the audience, ate of the bread, and drank from the cup to symbolize Christ’s sacrifice for us. Then Emily sat in my lap and instantly started crying. She told me how thankful she was that I was going to be her husband. We held one another until the song was over.
“Look,” I said, pointing to the sky. The clouds that had covered the sky in one gloomy gray mass broke apart for the first time all day. “It looks like heaven is looking down on our ceremony.”
EMILY
Before the wedding I told Chris I wanted our ceremony to feel like we were the only ones there. “I want it to be me and you,” I said, “and it’s just us coming together as one.”
As the song played and Chris and I sat together, facing away from the audience, I had that feeling I’d always wanted. There in his arms, I knew once again that as long as I had him, everything would be okay. This man had pushed through one of the worst things imaginable but somehow still had a positive outlook on life. Instead of being defeated by his miniscule odds of moving anything below his neck again, Chris was motivated to defy them. Chris challenged me not to worry about the minor inconveniences of life but to look on the bright side. When I was at my lowest point, when I gave him every reason to leave, he stayed by my side. And he looked past his apprehension about foster parenting to welcome kids into our home and make a lasting difference in their lives.
Tears filled my eyes as I sat on his lap. God had brought us together; there was no doubt about that. Whatever we faced in the future, I knew we would get through it together, and I was overcome with peace and gratitude.
Finally, the pastor said the words I had longed to hear. “I now pronounce you husband and wife.”
I threw my arms around Chris’s neck and shouted, “We’re married!” In my excitement, I forgot that Chris was wearing a microphone, and everyone in the crowd heard my outburst too. I threw back my head and laughed before kissing Chris—our first kiss as husband and wife.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Mr. and Mrs. Norton,” the pastor said as the crowd cheered.
Just like we practiced, I took Chris’s hands in mine and helped him push out of his chair and to a standing position. But when I looked down, I stifled a gasp. His pant leg was stuck halfway up his calf, and you could see his urinary leg bag and all its contents. Oh my gosh! I thought. The photographer is here. The videographer is here. People magazine is here for crying out loud. Chris does not want his leg bag in People magazine.
I knelt down as quickly as I could to pull down his pant leg. Either I pulled too hard or his belt wasn’t tight enough, because his shirt came untucked and his belly button popped out.
“Emily, get in front of me,” Chris whispered.
“What? I’m not walking in front of you.”
“No, my shirt. Fix my shirt.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. This was another reminder that life wasn’t perfect, and that was okay. Instead of getting upset, I made a joke of it. “We don’t want him to lose his pants!” I said as I moved in front of him, tightening his belt and fixing his shirt. Everyone in the audience was cracking up.
Finally, we stood side by side and prepared to walk. Then it hit me that we hadn’t factored my veil into our practice. I was wearing a cathedral-length veil, and the wind was whipping it around. It was too risky to take the chance. At the last second, I ripped it out of my hair and handed it to Marisa. I used to hate imperfections like that, but that day, I was thankful they happened. The day wasn’t about the walk or proving how hard we’d worked. It was about honoring God and celebrating what he had done.
CHRIS
A single ray of sunshine burst through the clouds as I gripped Emily’s shoulder and took my first step. Any nerves or tension I felt completely disappeared. We’re going to crush this, I thought.
Seven and a half years ago, those seven yards that stretched in front of me would have seemed insurmountable. On that day so long ago, the worst day of my life, I questioned God for taking away everything I loved and any hope I had for an independent, fulfilling future.
Today, on the best day of my life, I realized that what I thought was an ending was only the beginning. God’s plan didn’t look like mine, and I was so grateful for that. If I hadn’t been injured, I never would have met Emily. God used my injury to change not only my life but also the lives of many others.
I smiled as Emily and I walked arm in arm, slowly clearing one yard, then another. Every inch felt like a triumph, not because of the applause but because I knew God was with us. These steps weren’t for the people surrounding us or the cameras recording our every move. They were an act of surrender to God. Our lives wouldn’t be comfortable. That was a guarantee. But when God said the word, we would say yes, whether that meant training a paralyzed man to walk or caring for five kids in one house. Walking wasn’t scary as long as we stayed on his path.
I could have kept going, but when we reached the end of the aisle, Emily and I turned to one another and kissed as the crowd cheered. “We did it,” she said to me, looking up into my eyes. “I love you.”
Standing there, holding my new wife, I knew our life together was nothing short of a miracle. With God, all things truly are possible. The two of us are living proof of that.