Tuesday afternoon found me at the back of an Anglican church as the groomsmen and bridesmaids walked down the aisle. I was trying to coax the two flower girls—daughters of the bride and groom—to walk down the red carpet after them, but they had an immense case of stage fright. In the end, I walked between them, thankful that my black suit and white shirt with a subdued gray tie in no way clashed with the wedding colors.
I let the girls’ hands go and was about to step back and fade into obscurity, but then they started crying. After catching the pleading eyes of the bride, I remained with them throughout the short ceremony. I’m sure there were other fires that needed to be put out somewhere, but Viola would have those in hand until I was able to take over my usual duties.
Afterward, I led
