Better than the Sunrise

“Every good gift and every perfect gift comes is from above, and comes down from the Father of Lights, with whom there is no variation or shadow of turning.” James 1:17

My twin brother, Jason, got married earlier this year in April. I only have one other brother, Chris, and no sisters; I seem to be running out of siblings. I had known of Jason’s wedding months before I landed in Korea; before I even accepted an offer to come, I made sure my new employer would be okay with me traveling back to Texas for his ceremony. However, such was not the case the second time around.

I knew Chris had been dating a girl from Israel before I left, but it wasn’t until the first of the new year that he purposed. They tentatively set a date for August, which would have been two months before the earliest I would have been able to go back. “Jennifer Lowery thinks she needs to plan another trip to Texas before her contract ends in October,” I wrote on Facebook sometime at the end of January. I wondered why it was that life-changing events like this had to happen when I was stuck six thousand miles from home.

August came and went, with a surprise 28th birthday celebration for Chris but no wedding. As they hadn’t completely nailed down a date, I suggested they try for September 25, the Saturday after Korea’s Chuseok holiday and the only conceivable time I would have been able to make the wedding. “I really want you in my wedding,” Chris’ fiancé, Roni, would tell each time I chatted with her. I knew how important my being there was for the two of them and I wanted to do everything to make it happen.

“We were unable to book the 25th,” Roni wrote me on Facebook. “Instead, we got the 2nd, the Saturday after that. Is that okay?” I told her I’d try to come, but was almost certain that I wouldn’t be able to, due mostly to the week-long holiday from the previous week. They sent me an invitation anyway which I received two weeks ago, just prior to the break.

I felt so strongly that I just needed to be at the wedding—it was a weekend, after all, and I’d only be sitting in my one-room apartment as they were marrying each other. Of course I could make it! I started dreaming: I could ask for five days off or so, with the weekend sandwiched in there so as not to disturb the school schedule too much. I’d leave Friday morning and, thanks to the International Dateline, arrive in San Antonio nine hours later to spend the night with my parents before the big day. I told my dad about my “plan” via text message and he replied, “That’s an awful long way to come for just a short ceremony.”

“Lord,” I prayed the night I received the invitation. “You know my heart. You know I really want to be there.” It was a Thursday night; the next day, Friday, would likely be the only time to talk with my director about the matter before the following week’s vacation. “I’m going to ask Director Michelle tomorrow for time off from school. If I forget, I’ll know You don’t want me there.”

The next morning, however, I didn’t forget. I pulled out the invitation I had brought with me, gazed at it fondly, and even showed it to two of my co-workers. I had brought it with me to help build my case with my director. “See, this is proof,” I would say. “He is getting married. You have to let me go. You did it once.” I knew that one teacher would be out for most of the week following Chuseok because of a trip to New York she had been planning since July. In my mind, I thought about suggesting that I wait to leave for Texas only until I knew she was back: She would arrive back at school Thursday so that I could then leave the following day. The more I thought of it, though, the less courage I felt. Slowly, I began to see how unwise and brash my thoughts of leaving really were.

If I were the director of my school, having just come back from holiday with a teacher still out, I surely would have said no to such a selfish request. Not only that, but it was as if the LORD had audibly said to me, “You know, Jennifer, you could go. You have the money for a ticket. Nothing is stopping you. But what about what else I have planned for you?” By the end of that Friday, without having talked with my director, I had quietly resigned myself not to go.

Having settled the question of where I would be for the ceremony, I thought of something else: What if I could see it via video calling on Skpye? Last weekend in Seoul, I had bought a webcam and mike just for the occasion. I entertained thoughts of going to bed early and waking up at five that Sunday morning, as it would be three p.m. their time, just so I could watch the wedding and feel like I was there. I sent a message to Roni, Chris, and my dad asking if it were possible; Dad sent a text last night telling me it sadly wouldn’t be. It was disappointing to know that I would miss the wedding, but I was confident that I was still in the will of God. “Wake me up with the dawn, Lord,” I prayed that night before bed.

Towards the end of a quizzical dream, I heard the charm go off on my phone indicating the receipt of a text message. It wasn’t yet daybreak. I was almost awake; perhaps I should answer the message. But who would text at six o’clock on a Sunday morning? And then I remembered: only someone who doesn’t know it’s the middle of the night in South Korea because it isn’t so early for him. My family! “We are at Paesanos on the Riverwalk after the ceremony,” Dad wrote. “People in boats go by and cheer and clap.” The father of the groom had taken time out of the wedding’s festivities to contact me.

I quickly wrote him back. “Awesome, Dad. How was the ceremony?” I waited for a moment for his reply and then got to thinking: As Chris’ father, he would surely be a prominent figure throughout the evening, with little time to answer texts. Why not just call?

“Hey, Dad,” I recorded on his voicemail. “I just wanted to call and wish Roni and Chris a happy marriage. I wish with all my heart I was there. I love you guys so much and I miss you. I’ll see you—” My message ended abruptly; I had wanted to say “soon,” but didn’t quite know if that would be the case. “Bye.”

As I hung up the phone, another message awaited. “Just missed your call,” it read from Dad. “Call back.”

“Hello,” he quickly answered. I could hear the muffled noise of a small crowd in the background. He passed the phone onto someone else who sounded a lot like himself.

“Hello? Hello? How are you?” he asked. It was my brother, Chris.

“No, I want to know how you are! How was the wedding?”

The phone changed hands again and I heard Roni’s voice. “Hey Jennifer,” she said somewhat slowly, the “i” a heavy “ee” just like a Mediterranean accent. “How’s it going?”

“It goes well,” I replied, then paused a moment. “Congratulations,” I told her wholeheartedly, elongating my word slightly. At that moment, all other words escaped me.

We talked about the ceremony, wedding photos, and other such girly things. “I have some pictures that I will send to my parents [in Israel] so they can see what it was look like,” she told me. “I can send to you, too.” I asked about how the wedding went and she said that it was wonderful. “I cried and laughed a lot. I couldn’t hear what the preacher said sometimes. ‘What did he say?’ I asked. Some words I never heard of before!”

“Note to self,” I said tongue-in-cheek. “Study English before I get married.”

The phone switched hands again and I found myself talking with Chris once more. I told him the same thing: “Congratulations.” It seemed inadequate and yet the sum total of all that was in my heart for him. What more was there to say?

“Thanks. I’ve been getting that a lot lately. No, seriously. Fifty percent of the passers by tell us that.” I knew he would take such well wishes from strangers to heart.

“I wish with all my heart I could be there. I just want you to know I am so proud of you. Roni is such a gift.”

“I know,” he said with conviction. I could tell it was a heartfelt statement. “Most of the people that were not in support of my marriage are now in support of it.”

We talked about the weather in South Korea some, and then he said he had to go. “We’ve just gotten our entrees,” he intimated, a little disappointed. “I would like to talk with you more. Can you call back later?” I told him I’d try, but that I needed time to get ready for church that morning. I asked what time would be good to try to call, then said my goodbyes. “Miss you,” I heard him say. It was all I could do to choke back the tears surfacing to my eyes. “Bye.”

As I sat on my bed savoring the call and my brother’s voice, I knew it was from the LORD. “This was better than being woken up by the dawn,” I prayed. “Bless them exceedingly, Lord. Thank You so much.”

Scripture says in James that good things come from the hand of our God; I know this is true for both Roni and Christy, Jason’s wife. “Come back home soon,” Chris requested during our conversation. “Roni keeps saying she needs her best friend back.” I can’t wait to go back home and share in the joy of my brothers’ good and perfect gifts.