Erin and Josh got married last Saturday, and brought a close to this year’s wedding season.
The event went perfectly. Erin was a doe-eyed bride, and Josh was a nervous groom. Their love for each other was on full display. When they read their vows to each other, it was the highlight of the day. It carried me back to my own wedding and made me grateful to have enjoyed twenty-seven years of the same joy that awaits them.
The wooded area on the water’s edge was beautifully picturesque. The wedding arch framed the newlyweds and was resplendent with a cross and intertwined rings as accents. The bridesmaids and groomsmen stood by, capturing the youth and enthusiasm that burned in everyone’s hearts.
I wouldn’t change a thing.
Oh, it had all the typical bumps. The bride’s ring was left at home, the groom’s printed copy of the vows never made it, one microphone didn’t work, I stood in the wrong position and blocked the Go-Pro camera view, the playlist for the reception vanished into digital vapor, guests’ toes went numb from the cold, the fire wouldn’t light, one of the most special guests arrived a few minutes late, and the photo backdrop didn’t fit in its assigned location.
But, I still wouldn’t change a thing.
Each of these minor disasters was dismissed with a smile because they were reminders that the goal of the day was never flawless execution. It was a celebration of young people in love, vowing before God and their community to stay true to each other for all of their days to come.
As a reminder to myself (and hopefully of benefit to others), here are the lessons that I learned throughout the whirlwind 7 weeks.
Release tradition and embrace passions From one end to the other, Erin surprised me with what she wanted – outside ceremony, crazy food, no chairs, jokes in her vows, dressy casual attire (isn’t that an oxymoron?), and so much more. It was her day, though. Kim honored each of her selections and it all came together. Her dream was different, but it suited her, just like her marriage will.
Ask for help We were able to pull the entire wedding off without the typical professional help. We have wonderful friends who pitched in and did a great job. Bob built the wedding arch. Carra provided decorations and fussed over the details surrounding the reception. Pam and Steve demonstrated why they are MVPs every year. Gary entertained as he took pictures. Mike had my back all weekend. My sister made adjustments on the fly, never drawing attention to herself. The list goes on.
Weddings are about life in community. I’m glad we rolled up our sleeves and went to work with our best friends. It saved money, and the experience was priceless.
If you want help with your event, ask Kim or me. We will gladly share what we know.
Speak life We tried to tell the bride and groom the truth about who they will become. Guests spoke blessings over their future. I honored them in blog posts leading up to the event. Kim’s sweet spirit spread encouragement. Weddings should set the couple up for success, not stress them over details that are soon forgotten.
Keep God in the center It was a tough seven weeks. It was tempting to slip into the wrong mindset when Erin wanted a champagne toast at 11am and the city required special permits and police oversight (that one did not happen). It was hard to stay focused when Kim told me that we needed biodegradable forks and bamboo cones for birdseed. I wanted to go on strike when the flowers seemed too large to transport.
However, God brought calm to a chaotic rehearsal dinner when we stopped to pray. I found peace reading what the Bible said about weddings. Difficult people were easier to deal with when I remembered that God loved them.
Placing God in the center of a wedding is a first step in keeping him there throughout the marriage. And that is my greatest wish for them.
Congratulations Erin and Josh. The best is yet to come!
This is my eulogy, as delivered at mom’s Memorial Service. You can listen to me deliver it through the youtube link. After Mom passed away, our family had a meeting at the church with Pastor Thomas. When we arrived, he guided us to a large table in a meeting room down the hall.
He had a pencil and paper in his hand, and he made notes as he asked a few basic questions in preparation for the memorial service. What day and time did we have in mind? How many family members would be there? That kind of stuff. It was all easy. Then he asked an innocent-sounding question.
“What can you tell me about Jan?”
We didn’t have an answer. We sat dumbstruck, staring at each other in silence. Nobody could answer his simple question. Moment after moment passed at a table filled with people who always have something to say, but no answer came, just uncomfortable quiet.
Eventually, we stumbled through enough random facts to fill his page, but I left wondering why that was such a hard question to answer. Why couldn’t I describe my own mother?
It is easy to describe other people in my family. They are hard-charging people with long lists of accomplishments that can be used to describe them. Mom was quiet and never seemed very interested in conquering the world, or even in competing with others for a prize.
Mom did not leave trophies that filled her shelves or certificates that lined her walls. To my knowledge, there are no plaques memorializing her achievements. If you google her name, there aren’t many search results that tell you about her life. As the world measures success, she may not have accomplished very much. But that wasn’t how she measured success.
That night, I sat alone in an empty room trying to think about why she was special to me.
There are boxes upon boxes of old photographs at mom and dad’s house. I picked up one of the boxes and flipped through the stacks of pictures inside it, looking for inspiration. Mom loved to travel and there are hundreds of pictures taken in Ireland, Germany, Scotland, Australia, Newfoundland, and other places.
I never heard Mom talk about the history of those places, or how the culture is different from ours. She didn’t go there to gather information or even to make memories, she went simply to enjoy the trip. The best pictures of her don’t show her standing against a famous backdrop; they show her with her head thrown back laughing. There are a lot of those pictures.
Mom didn’t take many of the pictures, partly because she was a terrible photographer. She didn’t worry about how to capture moments, she focused on how to live in them. She did that better than anybody.
Other stacks of pictures show her Louisiana family. Mom was a diehard cajun who loved food. Some of her favorite memories were meeting at her brother, Jimmy’s house for a crawfish boil. The smell of seasonings cooking in the giant stew pot was intoxicating and she would swoon when he poured out the giant pot full of bright red crawfish, potatoes, and corn on the cob. Everyone would sit around the table peeling, eating and swapping stories. It could go for hours.
Dad was an early-to-bed, early-to-rise guy, and he would routinely remind her that it was past time for bed, but she didn’t care. She would say “I don’t want to miss the party.” She wanted to savor every moment.
There were other endless piles of pictures of Mom with her grandchildren. She loved each one of them dearly and would sit with them for hours. She would read them stories, or talk jibberish words with the toddlers. When their eyes got droopy, she would rock them to sleep and hold them as long as possible. Even as babies, they knew she was 100% focused on them. Everything else disappeared while she lived in that moment.
There aren’t any pictures of her as she spent hours on the phone with me. We lived in different cities most of the time and I usually called her several times a week. She loved to hear the little details of what I had going on. I loved talking to her because she never judged me or tried to push me in any direction. She was able to guide my life by listening and believing that God had great plans that stretched in front of me.
When I talked to her, she never seemed rushed or distracted. It was like she put everything she had into that moment, and I loved her for it.
Mom was brilliant in her ability to live in the moment. There are no trophies or certificates for that kind of thing, but she changed her corner of the world. Living in the moment is the very nature of love, and I still see her in the people she shared her life with.
Dad is a whirlwind of activity, who trained us to never sit still. But he sat with mom for hours every day for the past year and more. He fed her, helped her to get dressed, and watched over her when she could not take care of herself. He set aside his whole life to serve someone in their moment of need. That’s mom and you can see her in him.
Preston is a giant of a man who exudes macho. But this week at a crowded table during lunchtime, he quietly held his granddaughter and responded to every facial gesture she made to him. Emery knows that he is always paying attention to her. That’s mom and you can see her in him.
Kelly and I text each other at night. Not the little two words and a smiley face messages, but screens full of the things going on in our lives. I know she will answer when I am overwhelmed with life. I’m over 50 years old now, but still leap into things without thinking and when I don’t know what to do, she tells me not to worry, because she can see through eyes of faith that God has even bigger plans for me. That’s mom and you can see it in her.
Kim, for years, was uncomfortable hosting people at the house. All of the details of planning, preparing, navigating and being judged by guests was frustrating to her. I have seen her change, though. She doesn’t worry about the details anymore, she enjoys her guests. Little details may go unattended while she focuses on enjoying their company. That’s mom and you can see it in her.
I am impatient and get frustrated with people. When I lash out in criticism about someone in our lives, James and Erin gently remind me why we care about that person. They are kind. That’s mom and you can see her in them.
Mom’s legacy fills this room. Each of us is forever changed because of the time we spent with her because she lived her life by a different code.
Her code is captured best in 1 Corinthians, chapter 13.
Love is patient, love is kind. Love does not envy, is not boastful, is not arrogant, is not rude, is not self-seeking, is not irritable, and does not keep a record of wrongs.
Love never ends.
I have so many questions about why such a hard ending came to such a beautiful spirit. I have been angry, depressed, confused, and more. I miss her badly but I am comforted because I can still see her in each of you.
Thank you to everyone who came here today. You are a living mosaic of her life. As you go and love the people in your life, I know that mom will never be forgotten, because love never ends.
When Erin was six years old, she had a bicycle. It was exactly what you would imagine for a little girl. It was pink with turquoise accents and tires so white you knew they would never touch the grass.
One pretty fall day, I took her with me on a run. We removed her scrunchy ponytail holders so that her glittery helmet would fit and we both promised her mom she would drink plenty of water.
As I ran, she would pedal alongside me. Her handlebar streamers danced merrily in the wind as her constant chatter released every thought that crossed her mind. Our path wound through the park that adjoined our subdivision and we dutifully stopped at each water fountain to let her get a drink of water. I would stand on the foot pedal that was too stiff for a small girl and hold her while she drank a few sips of water. Then we would take off again, streamers dancing, white wheels turning, Erin chatting.
For ten miles.
I don’t know if most little girls can ride a bike that far or not. We certainly never trained for it. Like most of our weekends, we chased a whimsical notion that promised fun and grand adventure without thinking too far through the details.
When the modest hills of central Tennessee proved too much for the young rider, she would look at me with big round eyes that said she didn’t know if she could make it or not. I would smile at her, tell her she was doing great, and place my hand on her back, giving her whatever gentle push was necessary to get her to the crest. Now on the other side of the hill, she would take her feet off the pedals, smile and laugh while the wind blew in her face. The moment’s rest prepared her to start pedaling again.
We never spoke about the pushes, only the great distances she covered and the majestic sites we encountered in the park’s wooded areas.
I wanted her to believe that she was always safe with me nearby and to use her creativity to envision big dreams where anything is possible. My daddy job was to create an environment where fear had no place and love filled every space.
I never thought I’d have to give her away.
It is a strange expression, but it captures the emotions that flood my heart as her wedding day approaches. As her ceremony begins, I will be the one who gives away the bride.
Life has been busy for the past twenty-two years as I focused to provide the basics for our family. So much to do, so much to teach, so much joy to pack in. With all my efforts focused on preparing her to lead the next generation, I neglected to prepare myself emotionally for this day.
I know that we will always have a special connection. But, for the first time, it’s not my job to enter each dark room first. It isn’t my place to stand by her side with my hand on her back in case she gets tired. No matter what I think is best, it’s not my time to choose.
It is my time to give her away. She has chosen someone else to walk through life with. There is another brave man ready to protect her and ensure that all of her days are filled with love.
She has chosen wisely. As the father of the bride, my job has been to keep the wrong guys moving down the road and to encourage the best and most worthy. When I release her hand so that she can embrace another, I need to know he is the right one.
For two years, I’ve watched Josh as he walks alongside her. I have weighed traits like the fun-loving, impetuousness of youth against the deliberate, forward-thinking of a provider. I have observed his response during danger, looking to see if he steps between her and the threat, or if he withdraws to protect himself. I have prayed to see if he is God’s choice to lead their family.
He is the one. I will surrender her hand to him and entrust him with her life.
But it won’t be without my own tears. There is a little sadness of the closing of an era, but there is more joy at the coming of a new day.
My role will change again, and I am blessed to have Kim to help navigate our next steps together. We have gone from a young, starry-eyed couple to parents, then to empty nesters, and are now blessing a family that will continue our proud march.
My message to Josh: Love Erin well, be everything that God calls you to be, and go build your own family. If the climb gets steep, know that I am ready to walk alongside you. What I have is yours. I am giving you the best and whatever you need from the rest.
** nothing below is intended to imply guilt or defend against details where I have no knowledge **
This week, a friend of mine got into trouble. Big trouble. This is the kind of thing that involves federal agents, potential prison time, and national headlines beginning “One of the largest ever…”.
The news portrays a heartless criminal that is impossible for me to reconcile with the friend and loving family man that I know. There is an insurmountable chasm between the buddy that I embrace when we see each other and the con man described on television.
It makes me angry to listen to news anchors brag about the shrewdness of their investigative reporting while they mispronounce his name. Doesn’t this type of story merit learning someone’s name before airing a broadcast? Why is our media so quick to share sordid details, but absent when it comes to helping us meet the man behind the story?
My experiences are so different from the headlines. The conflicting images are confusing and the brokenness in this world makes me profoundly sad.
There are other examples where stories seem incompatible with the people in them. Friends that have been married for decades divorce amid accusations from both sides that are hurtful and hateful. None of it matches the loving people I am proud to have in my life.
Another good friend of mine is tormented by addiction. It is an angry demon that devours his relationships, destroys his livelihood, and threatens his life. Google shares stories and pictures that can’t be the same quiet, humble person that I shared a holiday dinner with.
It seems impossible.
When my friends or family stand accused, my first response is to deny any possibility that these things are true. As time slips by, it becomes easier to believe there is truth in the charges. After all, I am guilty of so many things that they must be also.
The world judges people from a few isolated facts that do not tell the story of a complicated life. “Innocent” and “Guilty” are the only choices offered to a world that is seldom black or white. The pressure to pick a side is intense while lives are crushed in the middle.
Sitting as judge is exhausting. The burden of weighing accusations against defenses is more than I can bear. The few facts that can be proven or disproven stand so small compared to the souls I have come to love and that my savior valued above his own life.
I do not want to be naive or turn a blind eye and enable bad things to happen. I recognize the need to be vigilant but still embrace my neighbors. In Matthew 10:16, Jesus told us to “be as shrewd as serpents and as innocent as doves.” Simple words that are hard to live by.
No one lives blamelessly. Even the apostle Paul was confused by his own actions (read here for that). It is easy to listen to Perfect Paul who writes the New Testament but would we have accepted him the same way while being rocked by news of his failures?
When accusations shock me, only God can allow me to see people the way he does. While I project my guilt onto others, He projects his perfect love onto each of us. He sees our ultimate potential whether we are fighting or dancing. That’s how I want to see people, too.
My friend may or may not be innocent of everything he is accused of, but God will have to be his judge because I will not. Instead, I choose simply to be his friend and hope that he believes I will stand by him regardless of the circumstances.
In this season, he needs me to be his friend more than ever, but I’m afraid I’ll disappoint him.
When writing a blog post, I can write, re-write and polish my words until they meet my approval. In real life, I get one shot and frequently say foolish things. I am painfully aware of my inadequacy. My actions are often inconsistent with the man I want to become.
Hopefully, he will judge me by the aspirations of my heart and not the limitations of my humanity.
That is what I will do for him.
The picture of the serpent and dove is from the Lichfield Cathedral in Lichfield, Staffordshire, England
Erin is engaged and everything was shaping up for a March wedding (click here for the background story). With six months to go, we saw no reason to hurry. We were relaxed and enjoying the scenic route.
Oh, what can change in a few weeks! On three consecutive days, she rattled us. Although I had already noticed that her wishes for the ceremony were undoubtedly non-traditional, she shook me out of my comfort zone as easy as 1-2-3.
#1 – Saturday
She asked if we could pull the wedding forward from March into November. The new date was seven weeks away. Can it be done that fast?
#2 – Sunday
Her first choice for wedding officiant could not make the new date so she asked if I would step into that role. Me a wedding minister? I am all in; stay tuned for more details on that.
#3 – Monday
She challenged me to save $500 on chair rentals by restructuring the wedding/reception. It’s just not done that way!
Add these factors to an event that is dress casual and has a menu lifted from Snoopy’s Thanksgiving Special. Decoration selections are based on environmental sustainability and avoiding plastics. Other suggestions that have come and gone suggested she go barefoot and have rugs line the grass pathway to the wedding altar.
As more of these unusual elements become incorporated into her big day, it feels strange to be worried about it. I’ve always had a rebellious streak and enjoy departing from people’s expectations. It bothers me when people rigidly hold to a ritual without giving consideration to its usefulness. I joyfully cast aside images of success in favor of deeper relevance.
Suddenly, I have become the defender of traditions that my daughter is gleefully discarding. I have started to wonder what my friends will think. Where is the dividing line between quirky and weird?
What is she thinking?
It is easy to dismiss her perspective as being “Generation Z”. We thought Millenials were confusing, but as their youngest now enter their mid-twenties, this new batch is coming of age. These are the children of the Great Recession, raised in a world where technology is cheap and abundant but tradition is a luxury. They will shatter images of how things have always been done.
I am trying to shift my focus away from what she is casting aside, and look at the things she is embracing. What does her style say about her passion?
I like what I see and can learn from her.
Erin knew that a March wedding would give her six months to work out a million details, but she doesn’t want to invest that time fabricating one perfect day. Instead, she wants to get married and savor the time with her true love.
There are a lot of ministers who could guide them through their vows seamlessly, but she isn’t emotionally connected to them. Instead, she chose an aunt that has loved her well. When logistics required a change, she asked me to fill in. Either of us would inevitably stumble over the words, but she selected us for our faithfulness to help them to live by the vows that they make.
Erin is in charge of her wedding budget and she has argued with me about overspending on chairs, clothes, food, and lots more. These items are insignificant to her. However, she has never questioned a guest we asked to invite, even as the list became longer than she had planned. She always chooses friends over frills.
They recently booked accommodations for their honeymoon. Josh’s family blessed them with the ability to travel almost anywhere. They will be staying in a quiet, rustic place in the hill country right here in Texas. Establishing roots and growing connection to her friends and the land they live on is more important than exotic scenery.
At her request, I spent the past weekend building a photo backdrop for their reception. It is 7’6″ tall by 6’6″ wide and I am really happy with how it is turning out. She chose a cedar structure with a chevron design that can be modified afterward to become the headboard for their bed. She doesn’t like to use things once and cast them away when their purpose has expired. Instead, she carefully weaves her present into her future. Once you find your way into her life, there will always be a place for you there.
Erin is a product of the times she was raised in and many of her choices will forever remain a mystery to me. But the more time I spend asking “why” instead of challenging “what”, I like what I learn.
The wedding may seem a bit strange at times, but those who look closely will see her beautiful spirit throughout it. What more could a father ask?
In weddings as in life, she is reminding me to focus on what is truly important. My eyes can only be filled for a moment, but my heart can overflow for a lifetime.
This past week was a tough one to be a McAfee. It seemed like the whole family had challenges.
Kim’s and mine were physical. She’s had terrible seasonal allergies that have given her crippling headaches. Work has been tough as she tried to focus through the pain. I spent Monday and Tuesday wondering whether a stomach virus or some bad meat was responsible for the intestinal rebellion raging within me. We felt powerless.
Our problems were minor but kept us from being fully supportive of Erin and James while they dealt with their own situations.
Erin’s cash transfer app, Venmo, was hacked, and all the money in her checking account was stolen. Twice. On Tuesday morning, she woke up to an account balance that was several hundred dollars negative. She immediately notified Venmo and the bank. But even after visiting the bank and reporting the fraudulent activity, the bank failed to freeze her account. Two days later, the automatic deposit of her paycheck went through instead of being rejected. The criminals were still on top of their game and immediately stole all of her money again. She felt like a victim.
James bounced his rent check despite his best efforts to do things the right way. While he was dealing with that, his account was charged for an electric scooter rental that someone else had used. In all, he was out $150. In college money, it was a small fortune. He was then notified by the social/athletic clubs he had tried to join that he a was persona non grata. He felt rejected, lonely, and broke.
Are these attacks by the Evil One? Is his mission to steal, kill, and destroy (John 10:10) focused on our family? Maybe, but I’m not worried about him.
Instead, God put a message on my heart about how he refines us. In several places in the Bible, God is referred to as a refiner of precious metals (us). So I set about studying exactly what that entailed. Here is what I learned.
Ore is the natural state of gold. It is totally intermixed with all the different things of this earth and rests comfortably in the darkness. Ore has no real value. It isn’t pretty or useful. In order for gold to become what it was meant to be, it has to be set apart from the world and processed. The ore is first crushed and impurities are separated from it. It is purer then, but not finished yet.
The semi-finished ore is then heated to 1,064° F in a crucible under the careful watch of the refiner. Too little heat and it doesn’t separate. Too much heat could damage the gold. The fire burns away some of the impurities of the earth and causes others to rise to the surface, where the refiner can remove them. Through patience and a watchful eye, a perfect bar of gold emerges.
When gold is pure, the world no longer has an effect on it. Air doesn’t blemish it and water does not corrode it. It becomes an almost perfect conductor of power that reflects the light of the sun. Highly processed gold may be soft, but it is eternal.
In the midst of our family’s challenges, I choose to believe that God is refining us. The process is hard, but each step brings us closer to the full potential that we have through him. We have dedicated our lives to him and must accept the discomfort that comes with the transformation.
So, what about the Evil One? Is he powerless in all this? Is he real? Yes, the influence of darkness exists, but it has limits. The devil cannot steal what already belongs to God. He cannot kill a life that has been born again. And he cannot destroy the eternal kingdom.
I believe that God uses the deceiver sometimes. Because Satan’s authority is over the things of this earth, his dominion is over the impurities that God seeks to remove. He can steal, kill, and destroy those things, but God’s plan was to refine us, to separate us from those things anyway.
As I was trying to let all this sink in, I realized that I had an errand to run. I jumped into the car, and these words poured out of the radio as if he was speaking directly to me.
And though I know all about those men, still I don’t remember. ‘Cause it was us, way before then, and we’re still together. And I meant every word I said. When I said that I loved you I meant that I loved you forever. And I’m gonna keep on loving you. *
When things start to get hot, I need to embrace the crucible as if it were a relaxing jacuzzi, not an enemy hot box. My focus should be on releasing impurity and trusting in the Master.
I am in my Father’s hands. He is watching over me, refining me into something eternal because he loves me. And he’s gonna keep on loving me.
