I had seen the 1999 film “Runaway Bride” starring Richard Gere and Julia Roberts with some girlfriends of mine, but I never thought I would experience it firsthand.
The year was 2003 and my good friend Sheila looked stunning in her Oscar De La Renta gown that she paid an inordinate amount of cash for. She was marrying a 39-year-old handsome Christian doctor in a beautiful cathedral.
He was the father of two, she, the mother of one. They got along so well and had similar backgrounds. The two laughed a lot and looked to have the perfect relationship leading up the fairytale wedding.
It was like something out of a marvelous story book.
As I stood behind Sheila and looked over her shoulder in the floor-length mirror, I wiped away tears before they could wet my sapphire taffeta bridesmaid halter gown.
“You are beautiful,” my voice cracked. I gazed at Sheila’s lovely high bun, flawless make-up, and sparkling 3-carat diamond on her ring finger. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a bridal magazine.
When she went into the “ugly cry,” I thought Sheila, like me, was just swept up in the emotion of the moment. But then, when my running mate since grade school uttered the words, “I can’t do this,” I knew something deeper was wrong.
Instinctively, I told her she just had nervous jitters and all would be well, but that wasn’t it.
Sheila didn’t care that all 300 of her guests were waiting and her groom would be left shamefaced at the altar, searching the empty aisle for his “runaway bride.” She called the wedding off… on the day of.
For weeks after that, she was the talk of the town, but wouldn’t speak to anyone, not even me, one of her most trusted friends.
Sheila basically went into hiding, which was perfectly understandable. Even after she reemerged and we began conversing again, it took quite some time for her to open up about it.
However, when she did, Sheila said something to me I’ll never forget.
“All the money and material things in the world cannot create a true and lasting friendship.” She told me it was killing her to settle for the “appearance” of having it all together, when she knew she was empty and unhappy inside.
“You can have the stuff,” she said. “Give me real love any day.”
Though her words were true and profound, that wasn’t why they impacted me so deeply.
Just four months earlier, my husband Andre and I had lost our home. It went into foreclosure after he was laid off from his job and couldn’t find work. We had saved up for the down payment on our 3-bedroom ranch-style house for 5 years before buying it, only to lose it 2 years later.
My income alone wasn’t enough to carry us, and we fell too far behind.
As I sat listening to Sheila, it hit me. We lost our house, but we still had love—something money could not and never will be able to buy.
It was rough, but after some time passed, Andre and I got back on our feet, got our finances in order again, and eventually, the Lord blessed us with a new home. Though the first foreclosure was a painful loss, it taught us that we have the most important things: true love and friendship, unity, and an unbreakable bond.
Sheila also found love and married her soul mate in 2011. This time, the tears she cried were at the altar during the beautiful exchange of self-written vows each read to the other.
The wedding, though not nearly as expensive (Sheila’s husband is an 8th grade math teacher.) was full of love, joy, and togetherness.
And in marriage, that is what matters most.
When it's all said and done, love is all you need.