What are the odds?

June 24, 2011 by Beth Shepherd

$Math book$ Math has never been my forte. When I was in grade school, I was fair to middling at math. Unfortunately, in tenth grade I suffered through “SMSG geometry” and a teacher—amazingly enough, a woman—who did nothing to inspire or motivate me. So by the time I was a senior in high school, I was doubling up on art classes, enrolled in college-level English and Sociology, but taking remedial math.

In graduate school my statistics skills were abysmal which, as a budding sociologist at a school known for its statistical prowess, did not bode well for my future as an academician. I left the program ABD (all but dissertation). The thought of cranking out all the statistics I’d need to support my thesis, froze me in my tracks.

Ironically, I married a math major. Or maybe not so ironic, since there are many ways Big Papa and I balance each other in our relationship.

It’s funny, this math-phobia of mine, because I am deeply fascinated with “the odds.” “What are the odds?” I frequently question, generally when the odds aren’t in my favor, which has been a greater percentage of the time these past few years. Or so it feels.

Remember: Big Papa and I were the couple who first lost the site where we were supposed to be married. Then we lost the B&B where we were going to spend our wedding night. But the kicker was when we lost our officiate, the person slated to marry us, just three hours before the ceremony.

Then, there’s the spate of “you’ve got to be joking” tales of woe related to our adoption. Two trips to try to register a child, plane flight to parenthood canceled at the last minute and botched paperwork. If I hear: “You’re the first family to…” or “Our form doesn’t cover your unusual circumstances” one more time, I’m contacting the Guinness World Book of Records.

Yet despite the sorry stats that have haunted my life over the past few years, the truth is I can recite an equal number of amazing percentage-defying outcomes too. Like the date Big Papa and I met for the first time: January 9, 2005 or 1-9-0-5. This significant date in our relationship matches our house number—1-9-0-5– the house I drove up to on 1-9-05. What are the odds?

And while we were nearly stood up at the altar by the person who was supposed to marry us, we managed to find an (even better) replacement, via an online Yahoo chat group (all hail ‘IslandMoms’) barely an hour before we said, “I do.” What was the chance of that happening?

There are more stories…

A few days ago, I want to a ‘Mamas with Cameras’ meeting. At the end of the session, when everyone else gathered around to share their best shots of the month, I wandered into the kitchen to chat with the guest speaker and her neighbor, a friend whom she’d brought to the meeting.

“I’m probably the only mom in here without a kid,” I told them. As I recounted the five-cent version of my adoption story, the speaker’s friend turned to me with an understanding smile. It turns out she is also an adoptive mom, with an adoption horror story that rivals my own. She told me how she ending up spending seven months in the country of her son’s birth before being able to bring him home. I felt like I’d found a kindred soul. What were the odds? If I hadn’t gone into the kitchen, we’d never have met. I told her I’d love to chat more, but by the time we left, we hadn’t exchanged any contact information.

The next day I saw an ad for an item I was interested in on ‘MadronaMoms,’ a listserv I receive. I exchanged a few emails with the mom who posted the ad and got her address. Guess who answered the door when I got to her house (a mere mile from my own)? The adoptive mom I’d met just the night before!

Then, there’s the recent celebration of my birthday. For my last two birthdays, Big Papa and I have gone camping at Salt Creek County Park on the Olympic peninsula. Each year, two years in a row, we’ve also stopped into Harbinger Winery for a few bottles of their delicious wine. This year, we were chatting with the gal in the tasting room and asked her about the owner and winemaker, because we’ve never been able to meet her. “Oh, she’s not at the winery today. She’s celebrating her birthday.” She’s never been at the winery when we’ve visited, because she shares the same birthday as me. Go figure.

I guess the moral of this story comes down to what my college professors told me: you can always find statistics to support your thesis, no matter what it is. And maybe there’s some truth to that.

There are days when I feel like I’ve got a target for bad luck plastered on my head, that if I was a betting girl, I’d be heading home empty-handed. Yet on days when my cup runneth over, I can just as easily “prove” the world is a small, friendly place filled with good karma and it-was-meant-to-be destiny. So after going through a long stint where I’ve felt like the world is set against me, I’ve decided I’d like to start spending a greater percentage of my time looking at life through rose-colored glasses. A world where the odds are squarely in my favor sounds pretty sweet to me.

Statistics can be made to prove anything – even the truth. ~Author Unknown

As long as we both shall live

July 28, 2010 by Beth Shepherd

Weddings are momentous occasions. Two people begin their lives together. Sacred vows are shared before a community of loved ones and friends. A commitment is made to honor and care for one another for a lifetime: through sickness or health, for richer or poorer.

Big Papa and I said our vows to each other merely three years ago. At 48, and marrying for the first time, I could hardly be described as young or naïve. I’d been around the block enough times to know that life can throw some serious curveballs that test one’s mettle much less a relationship.

I’d seen my own parents’ marriage dissolve amidst larger-than-life crises: a husband paralyzed by a stroke and a daughter who had cancer twice as a child. Even the best of relationships sometimes break under strain.

Yet I also knew relationships that withstood gale force winds and came through on the other side even stronger than before. So as we prepared for our wedding, we chose two couples, whose relationship we admired, to say a few words and offer wisdom that we could draw on when times got tough.

I asked my closest childhood friend, Dee, and her husband Gaylen. They had been married nineteen years and Dee had been through a first bout and now a recurrence of breast cancer. Big Papa asked Bill and Pat, whom he’d known for six years. Bill had served on the same WWII ship that Big Papa’s father also served on. Bill and Pat had been married for 63 years.

As it turned out, neither couple was able to be there with us as we said “I do.” Dee and Pat were each struggling with illness and a cross-country trip was out of the question. But, they were there with us in spirit.

Shortly after they each called to let us know they’d be absent, a package arrived from Dee. In it, was a small antique pin that Dee’s mother had given her. Dee told me she wanted me to have it to wear on my wedding day.

A few weeks later we received two letters, first one from Pat and then one from Bill. Pat shared letters with us that she’d written to Bill over the years: one from the days when he was away at sea and she was waiting for him to return and another where she wrote to Bill describing some of the challenges they’d been through together over their many years of marriage and how they’d managed to overcome them. Bill’s letter offered wisdom and support, along with a few tips of things he and Pat had done over the years to ‘hold tight’ when their spirits sagged.

On the night before we got married, Dee called me to personally relay her best wishes and ask if she could send an email with a note she and Gaylen had written for us to read during our ceremony. Big Papa and I gathered up these words from our friends to share with each other and our guests on our wedding day.

And what a day it was! We’d already managed to find a new location to hold our ceremony when our original site canceled some six months before. A second B&B was lined up for our first night together as a married couple when the B&B where we’d intended to stay announced they were going out of business, just two months before our day. But when our officiant called Big Papa to say she wouldn’t be there to pronounce us man and wife just three hours before the ceremony…well, you can imagine that we were already putting the “through good times and bad” to the test.

It’s fair to say that in the process of getting married, we ran into a few catastrophes. And yet, miracles happened too, not the least of which was that a post, “Urgent! Officiant needed!” placed on IslandMoms, an internet chat group, turned up Debbi, the just-right-for-us officiant who made it to lovely Morgan Hill Retreat with minutes to spare. Lo and behold Big Papa and I became Mr. and Mrs.

Three years later we’ve experienced our share of trials and tribulations. We moved my elderly disabled father across the country two months before our wedding and overseeing his care (and him) has not been easy. Our adoption journey has been the source of many spirited and dispirited moments along with some pretty significant stress. My dear friend Dee passed away as did my beloved, nearly 18-year-old cat, Madison. We powered through a home remodel where we lived in one room and didn’t have a shower for four months. Our car was totaled in front of our house. And yes, like most couples, we’ve had your typical run-of-the-mill arguments.

In equal measure, we can lay claim to hours of sheer joy and days filled with playfulness, wonder and deep abiding love. Adventures to beautiful places both near and far have been ours: Tibet, Armenia, Willamette Valley and the California coast. Our home, the Urban Cabin, is now filled with light and a peaceful green oasis greets us outside our back door. We have enjoyed many amazing meals – some with food grown by our two hands and wine discovered on trips through the Pacific Northwest. Our understanding of ourselves and each other has improved by leaps and bounds and together we’ve tackled challenges and worked toward achieving our dreams.

Isn’t this what relationships, marriage – and life – are all about? You take the highs with the lows and the good with the bad. Things don’t always go the way you expect or happen in the time frame you might want. Then again, sometimes they do. “Life is what happens to us while we are making other plans.”

Truly, it’s the marriage, not the wedding that that those vows are really all about: the day in and day out meandering along in the world, looking out towards the future, remembering the past and enjoying the here and now.

I can almost hear Bill encouraging us to hold hands each night and try not to go to sleep angry with each other. I can see the images described in Pat’s letter: how sweet Bill is when he brings her coffee first thing each morning and how he stood by her during a long bout of depression.

Last night Big Papa and I sat together on the antique park bench we bought in honor of our third anniversary. I nestled my head against his shoulder and remembered a story Dee told me about being stuck with Gaylen inside their home for several days during a long snowstorm. Sitting next to each other on the sofa, she said, “It’s a good thing we like each other.”

When we exchanged marriage vows, I hoped that – on the balance – “health” would outweigh “sickness” and “good” would be more prevalent than “bad.” I still do. But no matter where the road may take us, I believe in the vows we said to each other and I believe in us.

…It will not always be smooth sailing; your relationship will be challenged. But in our experience, the process of weathering these storms will only serve to deepen and enrich the feelings that originally brought you together.

~excerpt from Dee and Gaylen’s wedding blessing

Happy Anniversary Big Papa! How lucky am I to travel through time with you by my side.

I do

July 27, 2009 by Beth Shepherd

Part IV of V

The biggest snafu hit on July 28, our wedding day. Historically, this date is one of four weekends with the least chance of rain. In the morning, when I awoke, gray clouds filled the sky.

Big Papa and I had spent the night before our wedding apart. I was in Seattle, and he was in Port Townsend, relaxing with Tom, his closest childhood friend and best man. My friend Jessica was slated to arrive at noon, take me over on the ferry, where we would enjoy a little wine tasting before heading off to the hair salon.

That morning, I’d treated myself to a massage. When I got home, there was an odd garbled e-mail from our Susan, our officiate, saying something about an accident, but “not to worry.” Jessica called to find out what had happened. Susan told her she’d been in a fender bender and would arrive at Morgan Hill, with our wedding license, a bit later than originally planned. We tucked a copy of the wedding ceremony in Jessica’s purse, along with a few pictures and sketches of how the tables and grounds should look, so that Jess could make sure the site set up stayed on track. Off we went.

Jess and I were sitting in the Eleven Winery Tasting room in Winslow on Bainbridge Island listening to Sarah, the owner, describe a delicious Malbec when Jessica’s cell phone rang. She stepped outside. I could hear her say, “What should I tell Beth?” Moments later, this is what she said to me, “That was Big Papa on the phone. Susan won’t be able to officiate your wedding.” It was shortly before 2:00 p.m. Our wedding was scheduled to begin in three hours.

Sarah immediately offered to pour me a glass of whatever I wanted. I sat silent, in shock. How could this be happening? I was 48 years old and had finally found the man I wanted to spend my life with. We were ready to love, honor and cherish each other for the rest of our days. Only there wasn’t anyone to make it legal.

Fifty guests from all across the country were on their way to Morgan Hill. What were we to do? Suddenly Sarah said, “I’m a member of ‘IslandMoms,’ a Yahoo chat group. Let me write a post. The post read, “Urgent! Officiate needed.”

Jessica and I headed off to Billy Shears Hair Design. Upon our arrival and a quick retelling of the events unfolding, I found myself with another glass of wine in hand. Todd stood behind me, doing his best to turn me into a vision of loveliness, even while I felt like the sky was falling in. As he styled my hair, Jessica’s cell phone rang twice. Two officiates offered to step in and marry us. The first wanted to charge an obscene amount of money. I said no. If that’s our only option, then we’d ask Tom to perform the ceremony, and go down to City Hall after our honeymoon to make it legal.

Then second caller, Debbi, said she’d just come back from of political canvassing. Her feet hurt and while soaking them, she was scanning the posts of IslandMoms. She was a new member. Debbi told Jessica that she had only performed only one other ceremony, but she was willing to do ours gratis. She wanted to be sure we got hitched. I gave a cautious ok, but requested the right to back out at the last minute if she turned out to be a crazy lady. We’d spent many months trying to find the “right” person to marry us, yet here we were, with less than an hour to spare, and someone we’d never met would lead us in saying some of the most important words of our lives.

We drove in near silence to Morgan Hill, clouds unfurling in every direction I looked. By the time, I sat in my dressing room, waiting for Suzanne, from Ambrosia, to apply my make-up; tears were streaming down my face. I spewed a few unsavory words about our ex-officiate just as Rebecca, our photographer poked her head inside to take pictures of the bride-to-be.

I was so angry, and worried that I would carry ill will with me to the alter where it would color this moment I’d waited half a lifetime to savor. It was 5:00.

A moment later, a woman appeared in the doorway. Her calm demeanor belied the chaos in my brain. She was dressed in a long linen gown with an embroidered challis thrown over her shoulders. Our photographer turned to her and exclaimed, “Debbi, what are you doing here? Do you know the bride and groom?”She smiled warmly and said, “I’ve never met them, but I’m here to officiate the wedding.” She took my hand in hers and told me everything would be alright. I melted. A floodgate of tears, this time in relief, burst forth.

Debbi ran off to study our ceremony. I pulled on my wedding gown, a vintage Mexican wedding dress I’d purchased from ‘Brides Against Breast Cancer,’ and fastened a pin at my waist, a token from my dear friend Dee, who was too ill to make the trip. I picked up my bouquet, a potpourri of flowers that looked as though I’d just run through the fields gathering them up. It was filled with lavender, Bachelor Buttons, little seed pods and, roses. Nestled throughout were my favorite, Sweet Peas, Big Papa’s term of endearment for me.

At 5:30 the sun began to peek out from behind the clouds. I could hear the ‘Mood Swings,’ our all-gal jazz band, playing Louis Armstrong’s “What a Wonderful World.” My niece April, our adorable flower girl, was scattering petals down the path where I would walk. I knew Big Papa was waiting for me under the old cedar tree by the pond.

I looked outside and saw the smiling faces of so many near and dear to my heart, and felt my spirits lift. Everyone was here to celebrate our love and good fortune in finding each other. Despite the odds, we’d made it! And, in the end, it’s all about the marriage, not the wedding. In that, I knew I’d grabbed the brass ring. Big Papa and I would have a happy life together. No one could cancel our love. If I could be by his side, on this day, and from this day forth, life would be very grand indeed.

Jessica turned to me and put her hand on my shoulder. “They’re waiting for you.” I took a deep breath and pulled myself up tall. My hands clutched tightly around my bouquet, I stepped out into the light.