Faith In Fiction | Culture Crash
“Anong balita,” my husband, Miko, utters, answering the phone with his traditional Filipino greeting. Hanging up after a few minutes of chatter in his native Tagalog, a language I don’t understand, he excitedly announces, “I’m going to be a sponsor at Tony’s wedding.”
“A sponsor?” I question, completely confused.
Having been married only a few months, we recognize this as our first cultural difference. A sponsor, he explains, is a member of the wedding party who prays blessings over the couple. Panic hits me as I wonder how his friends will react when they meet me, likely the only tall, blonde, blue-eyed person at the ceremony. As the weeks pass, my fear eases and is replaced by a sense of calm as I ponder,
“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid.” John 14:27
A month before the wedding, the bridal couple arrives at our home, hand delivering the wedding invitation, then handing me a picture. As they speak in birdlike sounds, I stare, bewildered by the image in my hands of a fire engine red dress and open-toed black high heels. Like a dog, my ears perk up and I cringe every time I hear my name mentioned in the conversation. After the couple departs, Miko confirms my suspicions,
“That's your outfit. Coordinating clothes make wedding photos picture perfect.”
At the dress shop, any hope that the dress will look good on me is quickly dashed. Clearly designed for a shorter, skinnier woman, this deep neckline, butterfly sleeves falling off my shoulders and 3-inch heels are a recipe for disaster for this ‘jeans and sneakers’ gal. I momentarily wonder if I can convince hubby to attend without me but then I realize the futility of worrying about a single event on a single day of my life,
“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to your life? Since you cannot do this very little thing, why do you worry about the rest? ‘Consider how the wild flowers grow. They do not labor or spin. Yet I tell you, not even Solomon in all his splendor was dressed like one of these.’” Luke 12:25-27
At the wedding, while my husband enjoys his role at the front, I feel glares and hear giggles from women who apparently find my attire as laughable as I do. Once the wedding vows end, we head to the reception area.
“We’re third,” Miko says, guiding me into the middle of the bridal party line.
As music begins blaring, everyone in the bridal party, except me, starts dancing. As names blare over the loudspeaker, the first couple in line enter the reception room jumping, dancing, singing and waving their arms. No! Struggling to slink out of line unnoticed, Miko’s tight grip on my hand inches us forward. As I hear the roaring introduction, “sponsor Miko and wife Sherry,” I’m pulled into the room. While trying to mimic my husband’s dance moves, my dress catches on one of my elevated heels and I plunge forward, missing the wedding cake by mere inches. With guests looking on in concern, I break the tension by laughing at myself, splayed on the ground, grateful that a dozen strangers, including several children, are graciously helping me back to my feet.
As the reception ends, the best man approaches our table to speak with Miko. Standing to leave, my husband smiles, excitedly telling me,
“You’re going to love this. Vic just invited me to be a sponsor at his wedding in December.”
To save my sanity, I’d better learn to wear heels and to dance well before then.
