Community’s role in wedding as vital as couple’s
We stopped at a small cafe in Coulee City, Wash. It was 104 degrees outside. I carried my red dress inside and asked Darlene Luedke, the woman behind the counter, if I might change in the cafe’s restroom. My husband and I were on our way to the wedding of a young woman named Amy Stephens, and I asked Darlene if it was true that in small towns you must invite everyone to your child’s wedding.
Darlene said yes; this is the tradition. She showed me Amy’s wedding invitation, published in the News & Standard, which serves Almira, Coulee City and Hartline. These three towns, about two hours west of Spokane, are not to be confused with the nearby Grand Coulee area. That is rock and desert. This is wheat country.
We arrived at Coulee City Assembly of God early. The church was already filling up, and, blessed mercy, it was air-conditioned. Tammie Stephens, mother of the bride, hugged me hello. I’d met Tammie and her husband, Jim, in May at a Whitworth graduation celebration for their other daughter, Katie. For three years, Katie and I were a student-mentor team, and from Katie, I learned about small-town traditions, including this inviting of the entire town to your wedding.
The combined Almira-Coulee City-Hartline population is about 1,000. Tammie had planned for 400, but harvest was happening; about 250 filled the pews of the church.
My husband and I watched as guests mingled before the ceremony began. We’ve been married 21 years, and I’ve written two books on marriage, but I realize now that no books, nor any advice, can truly prepare newlyweds for living out the marriage commitment. It’s both harder and easier than it seems; this is its divine mystery and its daily challenge.
The procession commenced. The young and beautiful bridesmaids, the fragile flower girls and the tiny ring bearers were followed by a beaming Amy, kissed and let go of by her father to be greeted by the groom, John Daniel Beaunaux.
Amy and John Daniel repeated their marriage vows after the pastor, Brad Fox, who had once been Amy’s youth pastor.
When you’ve been married a long time, you listen to vows in a different way. You understand what “through sickness” looks like at 3 in the morning and how the good times and the bad possess equal power to strengthen or destroy your union. Throughout the church, as the vows were read, husbands circled their arms around their wives’ shoulders.
John Daniel’s family lives on the West Side. As he and Amy started compiling the official guest list months ago, he said to her, joking, “It looks like you invited the whole town.” Amy said, “Well …”
The ceremony ended. Mr. and Mrs. Beaunaux greeted the guests, pew by pew. In the church’s kitchen, caterer Kathy Thomas looked calm. She is also the cook for Almira-Coulee- Hartline High School. Her sandwiches and salads lined the buffet tables, which led from the church to the reception area. Guests filled their plates and sat at tables that friends of Tammie had decorated.
At the reception, babies were passed lap to lap. Preschoolers raced between tables. Town elders shared stories of the bride’s preschool days. Marty Spurbeck, who altered Amy’s dress, and her husband, Ted, recounted the time Amy walked through their neighborhood selling 10-cent rocks from a wagon. They bought several.
“My kids would not be the people they are today without this community,” Tammie told me.
Marriage can force you to grow into an adult, even when you don’t want to go there. On Saturday, Amy, 20, and John Daniel, 22, were launched into married life, into adulthood, by community members who can now sit back and watch them grow.