What Suits You Well or Not, by James Behrens

I was a parish priest for twenty years before coming here to the monastery. During those years I had a lot of weddings. Hundreds of them. I have many good memories of those weddings. I tried to do a good job with them and did the best I could to make each a memorable occasion. Strange thing, though, is that I do not remember some things that I know the couple put a lot of care into as far as making their day special. Like what the bridal party wore. Just one of those things,I suppose. All the dresses and tuxedos were surely all wondrous to behold but I just kind of fade when it comes to remembering details.

Except for one wedding.

A friend of a friend of a friend of the groom had offered to make the outfits for the men. I was and still am a friend of the parents of one of the young men who was in the bridal party. Peggy, his mom, was happy that this friend was so kind and generous as to offer her talents for the measuring, cutting and trimming of the cloth for a suit. I was at their house shortly after the package arrived. By then, Peggy had moved through the various stages of Kubler-Ross’s well known throes of death. She had passed from shock, through anger, then onto into the valley of hatred, emerged from that to acceptance, and then apparently decided to enter the realm of tears of laughter. When I saw the “suit” I knew why she had entered that last zone and decided to stay there.

She held up the jacket for me. What I saw was what I thought was a joke. But it was the real thing. It looked like something a clown might consider wearing. There were different colors where there should not have been. One sleeve was longer than the other. The lapels were unevenly cut. Threads dangled. Buttons did not match the button holes. Buttons did not match other buttons. One side of the jacket was longer than the other. The sleeves were too short 
and there were still scissor marks on the fringes of the lining – the kind made by those scissors that leave marks like little rows of mountains – maybe they are called tailor scissors. Peggy and her husband Walt invited family and friends over and the jacket became a source of a lot of laughter and a really fun evening. I wonder if she still has it. I am sure she remembers it. How could she possibly forget it?

Now it is strange that I remember that. And now I think of life and memory. There are so many blessings I have had over the years – the blessings of family and friends, good times, happy times. Yet if a bad cut comes my way, I tend to dwell on that and give it too much weight.I do not invite my friends over. I tend to stew alone. Well, I suppose a monastery is not quite the place to have a bad suit bash.
 
Anyway, a lot of plans go into life (and weddings) to make as sure aspossible that everything fits and that all goes well. For weddings it may be best hopes for the Big Day. For life, well, it is for life itself, for smooth sailing.

Sometimes life makes a delivery and it is kind of like that jacket. Everything about it is horrendous. We may have thought a perfect fit was on the way and there arrived a nightmare. There is no way to improve the cut or wear it well. Maybe the best we can do is to gather some friends and wail and then laugh.

Oh – all went well. Peggy found out that all the jackets were of the same savage cut. The nearest wedding rental place worked like a charm.

Life sends us things that can never suit us well. But friends can make a good fit out of some rough cuts with a generous trim of laughter.

There are no rental places for good friends and memories. What we already have suits each of us well – mismatched buttons and all. 
 
-- James Stephen Behrens, O.C.S.O. 
Monastery of the Holy Spirit
Conyers, Georgia 

Posted by Debra Classen at 7/7/2009 5:51 PM
Categories: Reflections
Tags: stages of death friends wedding
 

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