ramerk_de
Reusing a wreckage
“Marriage” the Preacher said with a massive exhalation “Marriage… is like the wreckage of a crashed plane.” We the congregation sat in sudden, un-shuffling, silence, as absolute as the hardness of the church pews. Where the devil was he going with this?
“Some say everlasting love is a romantic dream, soaring above the clouds seemingly an impossible act. Much the same could be said of a heavy aeroplane. A plane has many take offs and landings over its lifespan, but every once in a while,” he sniffed “one of them hurtles towards the ground and smashes into a snarled up horror of metal, fire, plastic and aviation fuel, strewn luggage, and savagely ripped in-flight dinners.” Stunned faces gazed up towards the pulpit. The Preacher paused again and cleared his throat. He had us all in the palm of his ecclesiastical hand.
“But mostly they don’t. Mostly they do of course land safely at their destination after some minor turbulence. And so today..” he intoned “so today we gather here to wish the happy couple many happy years together.”
My wife leaned closer to me and softly whispered in my ear, “I understand that his family owns the local ferry company.”
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