I think the running joke Saturday was what a miracle it was that my brother was getting married. Funny, but not quite true. Granted, going on 39 is a TAD later than average to be tying the knot; but anyone who truly knows Andrew knows that he is absolutely the marrying type. The friends he had there- brothers in a way, if you will- alone are a testament to his steadfastness, his loyalty. He is not a commitment-phobe, not anti-tradition or anti-establishment, not cold or cavalier or any of the things that might keep someone from a life-long devotion to another. If anything, I believe he is the opposite of those things. So dedicated and faithful that the decision to attach himself to anyone, to any THING, is never taken lightly, never made without some level of anguish over his ability to BE the perfect part in any relation or endeavor.
So, even though many will believe that the miracle happened this past weekend, I know that the miracle all along has been Amy: her willingness to see in my brother something that others could not and her patience to wait for him to see it in himself. Thank you dear, dear sister, for that. I think the miracle of YOU runs deeper than you know.