Okay, so there was a moment earlier this month when my faith waivered. Could it be that God really does like Pat Robertson better than me? Could it be that the great something out there somewhere really does listen to that scumbag’s prayers?

If you’ve been following along, you know that Dave and I took advantage of my home state of Iowa’s long legacy of of social justice and were married there this summer. But since it was the Supreme Court’s landmark decision that gave that marriage some real practical benefits for us after 22 years together, and since we were headed to D. C. anyway to see daughter Meredith, we decided that we wanted a ceremony in front of the Supreme Court building as well.

It was to be another small affair, just a few local friends, my daughters and some of Dave’s family members who wanted to celebrate with us but couldn’t join us in Iowa.

What fun it would be. The family would fly in, we’d tour the Smithsonian and the monuments, then we’d all taxi over to the Supreme Court for a brief, informal, (but no less meaningful) ceremony—followed by a gathering back at Meredith’s nearby home.

(Imagine foreboding music here.)

And then the government shut down (I won’t assign blame, that’s for another discussion) and the remnants of Tropical Storm Karen decided to stall off of the North Carolina coast—pumping one rainy day after another into the DC area.

Dave was so upset I feared he’d have a stroke before we could make it to week’s end.  The delightful celebration we’d envisioned seemed to have been washed away by a disapproving diety.

Oh me of little faith.

As it turned out—there was plenty for the family to do when they arrived. The fascinating Federal Reserve was open just down the street from the family’s hotel (they make money, so I guess they’re not dependent on congress.) Arlington Cemetery was of course open, and perhaps a somewhat rainy day is the best time to appreciate this tribute to those who’ve served.

The National Cathedral was open as well, which despite its name, receives no government funding. “If you’ve ever doubted the separation of church and state,” quipped the tour guide, “Please note that we’re open.”

While I may question some folk’s conclusions about the culprit for the National Park closures, I must admit we benefitted from the “storming” of the monuments on that Sunday and the removal of the barricades.

When the day of the celebration arrived the forecast still included a 40% chance of rain. It drizzled all morning as we made final preparations for that night, moving things inside from the planned courtyard party.

And then the rains stopped.

We grabbed our umbrellas just in case, and cabs to the Supreme Court building.  The guards smiled as are small group gathered near their guardhouse.  A couple of Japanese tourists stepped right up and joined our merry band with their cameras.

And our dear friend and Unitarian minister Charlie commenced to marry us…again.

Faith restored. Off to the party.