Wedding Coordinating

When an experienced wedding coordinator friend asks you to be a first-time coordinator for their big day, say yes. 10 to 22 wedding party sizes. 200 to 400 guests. 3 weddings later.

What is a specific question you were asked about?
“Where is the flower girl’s petals?”

What is something you remembered to do at the very last moment?
To add water in the vases for the couples’ watering of their bonsai unity ceremony. Guests were seating themselves at this moment.

What takes the most time?
Bride’s make up!!!

What is always a surprise?
When ring boys and flower girls get their time to shine down the aisle.

What is something unexpected you have had to do?
A bride asked me to rescue her father from their relatives because he was offered too many drinks.

What have you found is most important?
That the newlyweds eat!

Who runs to you the most?
The photographer, videographer and emcee.

Who do you run to the most?
The photographer, videographer, emcee and venue staff.

What is most satisfying?
Lifting weight off the shoulders of the newlyweds.

What is the most important reason to stay on schedule?
Vendors’ time contract.

Each wedding has a vibe of its own. I can’t attend weddings as a normal guest anymore. I wander behind the scenes. Why are they starting late? Oh, nice, they are starting on time which means they are on schedule. How are they standing? Hmmm, who’s the coordinator? Did the couple get to eat? I have to give myself little reminders to enjoy.

Thoughts on COVID-19 wedding adjustments: Maybe it’s a good thing to take away all the extra that can distract of what a wedding ceremony is about. Maybe we’ve become accustomed to wedding culture and it’s time to think outside of the box. Maybe we’ve been idolizing a wedding day and this is His way to reveal our heart. To minimize in many aspects and bring the focal point to purpose.

Grief and Gain

At the conclusion of playing back and forth between me, our church’s mission committee, organizations and travel advisories about where to serve on a summer mission trip, an opportunity came to be a guest speaker at a mission conference. God saying, Thanks for hanging in that wild ride. Now, go, like you never have before to speak. This is for you.

A month after returning was the Arizona mission trip informational meeting. My dad passed away. The same week. Our first fundraiser. Dad’s funeral. The same weekend. Our second fundraiser. Father’s Day. First Father’s Day without dad. Our presentation at church’s mission conference. Exactly six months since dad went to Heaven.

An immediate thought, How do I manage processing dad’s death and leading a team on a mission trip? An immediate answer, How did dad carry himself after grandma passed? I attempted to follow dad’s character after his mom’s death. Unimaginable, deep sorrow is driving fuel towards perseverance.

There has to be a supernatural to stay persevering.

Two different people who live in two different states who have never, ever met each other, shared the same Bible verse with me, maybe in different translations, after hearing the news about dad. I went with ESV (English Standard Version). “Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and do not lean on your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he will make straight your paths,” Proverbs 3:5-6. This super well known Bible verse full of depth between human and God needs its own exegetical breakdown post. Grief lurks to point towards truth.

Tears have poured at the sight of dad’s handwriting to the sound of his voice. To speak of dad in past tense is sometimes still strange and kind of hurts. Life continues on and dad remains in the past. When I see stars light-years away visible in the night sky, yet to know that dad who I once shared a meal with, got a hug from, is absent, gone, unseen. A void never to be filled. Dad was full of life, and to see him be lifeless, just…there. It was him, and it wasn’t him. Grief awakens the soul to purpose.

In sobbing episodes there is a voice within, Why are you crying so much? Am I not enough? I have never known a more powerful, assuring presence. I cried on our flight home from the Arizona mission trip. When I get home, dad won’t be there to welcome me back. Thankfully, my teammates were all asleep (shoutout to 2018 Team Navajo–y’all are really good at sleeping). Grief haunts even when you know of peace.

I was greeted by a large, manila envelope when I returned home. Illinois. Remember when I went to be a guest speaker at a mission conference? It was from the youth group. Homemade, handwritten sympathy cards with honest thoughts, encouraging words, Bible verses and drawings. A comfort I never knew I needed. It arrived at such a time. In His hands. His Welcome back, and the stamp of approval, I am for you. Grief brings great gain.

Twenty-Eight

When I turned 25, I wrote lessons I learned after having lived my first quarter century. When I turned 26, I started to draft a piece acknowledging my parents. I realized as I was getting older, I reflect bits of my parents. My dad passed away the following month. I deleted the draft. When I turned 27, I was surrounded by friends and family through a DIY party. Wood burning magnets, designing a journal/notebook, wine and food. Now, I am 28. I want to finish the deleted draft.

My dad was a walking actions speak louder than words. His care came in provision for others. He had admirable, driven leadership. He was full of respectful poise in formality. When I watched dad interact with people, they would smile, laugh or nod their head up and down by something thought provoking or witty he said. Dad didn’t get mad often. When he did his temper was quick. He even said “shit”–used in the right context–which made it even better. Dad was sensitive. He cried. It showed how much someone or something meant.

My mom is full of unbeatable patience. Her understanding, comforting presence uplifts any ounce of stored sadness or anger. Her life was built in being present with her children. Mom is overly considerate and caring. She is storyteller of the past. She is talker of the present though sometimes too much. She can explain her dreams in full beginning, middle and end. Mom’s face lights up when awed by nature. She would blast a cassette tape, then CD player, now YouTube on Roku with her favorite artists.

If there is one thing to take away from my parents’ marriage, they were the exemplar of teamwork. Worthy of many golden stars. Now, I watch my mom navigate the remainder of her life without her sometimes rude, hilarious, weird and brave best friend.

Thank you, God, for allowing me to share in their union from the standpoint as daughter.

People We Meet Once In Our Life, Part 2.

Harriet Alexander Nature Center boardwalk.
Roseville.

Around the bend was an unleashed dog and a man sitting on a bench.

“Are you scared of dogs?” He asks on my approach.
“No,” I continue to walk past.
“How are you doing?” A genuine, caring tone stops my walk.
“Are you a college student?”

He used to work in the Lutheran church before he became a chiropractor. He is retired. He had a lot of Hmong patients who went to “Hmong Alliance” churches. He asked if I had any people to support me during this time (COVID-19), how my students are doing, how I’m doing as a teacher, how my church was doing. I have never been asked all these questions at once in a conversation to process out loud.

This is a “shift in humanity.” It is “a time of birth–a birthing process–full of pain with joy to come.” It’s to “watch how the generation rises.” He mentioned about feminism and how mothers are raising their children different today from how their grandmothers raised kids. “This is my son’s dog,” the last thing he shares.

He encouraged more than once.
He was full of hope without even saying the word hope.

People we meet once in our life. Never expected or sought after (a Part 2?!) All it will ever be exactly as is.

sun & Son

The sun is light.
There is light in the sun.

The Son is life.
There is life in the Son.

The Son’s love is
longer than beams,
brighter than shine,
deeper than kissed-skin,
fuller than the largest star,
deeper than yellows, oranges and reds.

Still, sun gives life.
Likewise, the Son.

Written on June 13, 2017, 1:50 A.M.

Crew 52

• While waiting and stuck in the Bullseye Lodge line, “Hey ‘Crew 52’, can you get us free Doritos?”
• “Don’t trust someone who wears sunglasses indoors.” “Sunglasses are the best for people watching,” says fellow Zone 8A volunteer.
• Those who are really paying attention to Crew 52 uniform. “Where can we buy Bold North mittens?” “The color matches your skin.” “I like your hat!” “So, do you really get to keep it all?”
• “We were here last night. We live on 12th and LaSelle. We had to come back cause we didn’t see it all,” a couple shared.
• “Where are the restrooms?” Having to answer with the closest porta potty location.
• Waiting 30 minutes for the Kitten Bowl, “Can I get a beer while in line?”

Interview Day. Inside Volunteer Headquarters, I was greeted by happier than normal, brighter than usual smiles. I sat across a blonde lady who asked questions about what I enjoyed in Minnesota to times I provided hospitality. She said none of us hopeful volunteers would be inside the stadium on game day. I didn’t know Volunteer Headquarters would become an important place.

Orientation. A flock of purple and gold inside the Xcel Energy Center. My demographics fell within the youngest age group of volunteers. First time seeing Chad Greenway in person. The fashion show of our provided uniform was a sweet surprise. Counterterrorism, human trafficking and homelessness training to come? This was getting real.

Role Specific Training. Tailgates up early morning downtown on the day of Vikings’ soon “Minnesota Miracle” win against the Saints. Informed of possible duties. Picked up our uniform box sized best to carry inside a large Ikea shopping bag. Light flurries.

Super Bowl Live. A free 10-day festival filled with pre-Super Bowl fun. I was pumped to the point where I made a public video announcement to Facebook friends to invite and encourage them to come. What cold? What crowd? Layer up and enjoy! The most time I’ve spent with memories made along Nicollet Mall.

I was in my mother’s womb the first and last time the Super Bowl was held in Minnesota. I had to actively be a part of it this time around. A historical, once in a lifetime, moment. I initially wanted to be a Halftime Field Team Member. Crew 52 was a special way to represent Minnesota. There’s a warm, missing everything that happened, glow inside.

P.S. I’m glad Minnesota showed itself off on Super Bowl Sunday with the negative wind chills. Gotta be bold to endure the Bold North!

Ms. Esperance

Guest teachers have interesting career journeys.

“Where have you taught before?,” I asked Ms. Esperance.
“I taught in Rwanda. I moved to the US and worked in business administration…”

Rwanda. My heart dropped. I tried really hard to pay attention as Ms. Esperance continued sharing her work history. Ruranga, my dear sponsored child, lives in Rwanda. I shockingly found out Spring of 2017 I could no longer sponsor Ruranga because she moved to an area without a sponsorship program. 5 years with no official farewell.

I shared with Ms. Esperance my connection to Rwanda. Ms. Esperance named “Compassion,” the sponsorship program, even before I explained. My heart sank again. She expressed how Compassion really helps poor families. She asked about how sponsorship worked out. She thanked me for being a sponsor. She even read a part of a letter (I showed her one as I explained the sponsorship process) and pronounced Ruranga’s full name to me in Kinyarwanda. My heart became full.

I will take this as a sign Ruranga is doing well. When I shared with my sister, she said, “This is the closure you needed.” I cried a whole lot when I opened the letter saying the sponsorship had ended. It was a real heartbreak.

I had plans of going to visit Ruranga. Going to Rwanda was a trip I had to make in my life. All of that had to disappear.

Sometimes, I still wish it wouldn’t have to end the way it did.

I will remind myself of my own words, “Because our sponsor-relationship suddenly broke, I hold Ruranga even dearer within. I could let her go missing. I choose to build on what we had. Of all things, I pray most Ruranga holds onto her salvation and faith in Jesus Christ. If we do not get the chance to meet on Earth, I am extremely excited to meet her when it is our time in Eternity. To cope and slowly move forward, I will press onto the Peace which surpasses all understanding.”

Thank you God for Ms. Esperance.

School year is here.

The reason why I have disappeared.

“‘Mahogany,’ I like that word.” I miss my high schoolers.

“Ms. Lee, your shoes look like Michael Jackson shoes,” the best compliment ever in my life from a kindergartner.

Getting back into the swing of things. Lots of learning and adjusting to a new environment. Taking it day by day. Staying positive is key!

 

Responding In Crisis

A year ago.

3 p.m. Stopped at a T-intersection with oncoming traffic. Waiting to turn. Clear. Left. Right. Le…..

An immense, darkening, quick amount of pressure hit. I lifted my head in confusion to notice my car had been pushed into the middle of the T-intersection. Thankfully, no oncoming cars were present. I looked in my rear view mirror saying a quick, “Please don’t drive away,” prayer. I walked out seeing my hanging bumper touch the ground. Avoiding stepping on white plastic and glass, I made my way to approach the other driver.

After making a call to authority, I sobbed and grunted in frustration at the scene. “Why now? Why of all times, now? In exactly 12 hours, I am meeting my team at the airport, a team I’m supposed to lead, we are going to be in the deserted desert of Arizona. God, this really, really, really, sucks, please don’t let me get any excruciating pain!”

3 a.m. I arrive at the airport with an ice pack in hand for my neck. Everything and everyone passes security except for my ice pack as it was “50% solid and 50% liquid.”

I applied lots of Icy Hot balm on the plane rides and every night in Arizona. My teammates easily smelled my presence.

I could have blamed God, telling Him how awful He is for letting such a horrible thing happen, for making things difficult in such a time. After expressing to God how much the situation sucked, I chose to trust Him. Trusting God to allow me to be fully present as a team leader, to bring physical healing and let there be opportunity to take care of insurance logistics (We were out in the desert uncertain of service. There were cell towers right by the church!)

When crisis hits at the worse timing, choose to respond by fully leaning on God. Spill your beans to God. Pray honestly sharing with Him the hurt you feel, uncertainty you have, loneliness you are experiencing, distance you feel from Him. Hold fast in believing He is good in the moment of your pain.

“But when you ask, you must believe and not doubt, because the one who doubts is like a wave of the sea, blown and tossed by the wind.” -James 1:6

Go Outside

Standing and sitting on the edge were two different worlds.

Standing. Distant. My soles against the earth. Watching the winding, calm-rushing Kettle River. Making note of the shoreline. Treetops dancing, following their lead partner. The vast spectrum of green, blue and brown. Browsing.

Sitting. Touch. The smooth-rough sandstone. Sensing the swift pressure of movement beneath my freeing, dangling feet. The river’s airflow against my skin upon each lean to look over the water. Hearing the passing rapids. Pausing.

I really could have sat there forever.

It’s instances such as these where the simplicity of going outside is the best thing we are missing. Senses become alive. Refreshed and connected. Spending more time outdoors is one of the best decisions I’ve loved making. Let’s go!