During our growing-up years, our families lived near the tallest of the Adirondacks—White Face Mountain—a few miles from Lake Placid, New York.
Bob and I loved hiking and one day decided to climb White Face to the top. Looking at the world below in all its peace was a surreal moment.
“This is the perfect place to share our vows,” Bob suggested.
Not wanting the typical wedding with a church, gown, tuxedo and four-tier cake, we agreed on a nontraditional ceremony at a place where our hearts lived—on top of the world.
Our excitement grew as we planned for a September wedding. The fall colors, that no florist could ever match, would be in bloom; and no church could compare to God’s mountains.
We found a justice of the peace in the small town at the foot of White Face and reserved cabins for excited friends and family. Everybody met at the local restaurant for dinner and celebrating the night before the wedding. Everybody except the groom.
Bob’s testimony of his love for me was unlike any other. He had a plan to climb White Face in honor of his commitment to me. He and his best man would climb halfway that night, camp out and then finish the climb to the top the next morning, the day of our wedding. All in time to meet me at the top by one o’clock.
With camping gear on his back, Bob kissed me goodbye. My heart in my throat, I was worried and excited at the same time. I couldn’t believe this man was climbing a mountain to show his love for me.
When morning came, I looked out the window and there it was—surrounding me like a large white blanket— fog. Although I knew the mountain was there, I couldn’t see it. And Bob and Kirk were somewhere on it.
Frightening thoughts went through my mind. What if they’re lost? What if they’re hurt? What if they ran into a bear? The mountains were full of them.
I was so upset I couldn’t think straight. Finally my maid of honor took me by my shoulders.
“God takes care of the pure of heart,” she assured me. And that was Bob, for sure. Holding on to that thought, I calmed down—until I was faced with even more bad news. The state ranger closed the mountain to the public due to the thick fog.
“Closed to the public?” I screamed. “They can’t do that! I have to meet Bob in three hours at the top. He’s on his way and I’m stuck at the bottom with no way of letting him know. What do I do now?”
The park ranger was alerted that there were two men on the mountain climbing to the top. He told me they would be all right; there was a ranger at the top who would notify us of their arrival.
Gathered at the restaurant, the rest of us worried as hours passed with no word. By now I was a total wreck and didn’t know how much more waiting I could take.
It was three o’clock and I should have been on my honeymoon. The ranger called: Bob and his best man had reached the castle at the top. While everyone else was cheering, I was tearing. A heavy weight lifted from my heart.
I asked if the ranger was driving them back, but to my surprise the answer was no! It was against the law. So after climbing all day in thick fog, the poor guys had to walk another two hours down. But I thanked God they were safe.
After I calmed down, a thought came to me. The wedding! Where will we have the wedding? If not on top of White Face, where?
Someone suggested Santa’s Workshop, a tourist spot known as The North Pole, located at the base of the mountain. The village had a small chapel, too. Our wedding day went from “on top of the world” to “Santa’s world” in one day.
To my surprise, I didn’t even need to tell the villagers my story. They already knew and graciously opened the tourist attraction and the chapel to us at no cost. Now all that was missing was . . . the groom and his best man.
Five hours late to his own wedding, Bob finally made it—dirty, sweaty, bleeding, hips chafed from his backpack, toes raw and bleeding. This sight for sore eyes was my sight
Bob and I loved hiking and one day decided to climb White Face to the top. Looking at the world below in all its peace was a surreal moment.
“This is the perfect place to share our vows,” Bob suggested.
Not wanting the typical wedding with a church, gown, tuxedo and four-tier cake, we agreed on a nontraditional ceremony at a place where our hearts lived—on top of the world.
Our excitement grew as we planned for a September wedding. The fall colors, that no florist could ever match, would be in bloom; and no church could compare to God’s mountains.
We found a justice of the peace in the small town at the foot of White Face and reserved cabins for excited friends and family. Everybody met at the local restaurant for dinner and celebrating the night before the wedding. Everybody except the groom.
Bob’s testimony of his love for me was unlike any other. He had a plan to climb White Face in honor of his commitment to me. He and his best man would climb halfway that night, camp out and then finish the climb to the top the next morning, the day of our wedding. All in time to meet me at the top by one o’clock.
With camping gear on his back, Bob kissed me goodbye. My heart in my throat, I was worried and excited at the same time. I couldn’t believe this man was climbing a mountain to show his love for me.
When morning came, I looked out the window and there it was—surrounding me like a large white blanket— fog. Although I knew the mountain was there, I couldn’t see it. And Bob and Kirk were somewhere on it.
Frightening thoughts went through my mind. What if they’re lost? What if they’re hurt? What if they ran into a bear? The mountains were full of them.
I was so upset I couldn’t think straight. Finally my maid of honor took me by my shoulders.
“God takes care of the pure of heart,” she assured me. And that was Bob, for sure. Holding on to that thought, I calmed down—until I was faced with even more bad news. The state ranger closed the mountain to the public due to the thick fog.
“Closed to the public?” I screamed. “They can’t do that! I have to meet Bob in three hours at the top. He’s on his way and I’m stuck at the bottom with no way of letting him know. What do I do now?”
The park ranger was alerted that there were two men on the mountain climbing to the top. He told me they would be all right; there was a ranger at the top who would notify us of their arrival.
Gathered at the restaurant, the rest of us worried as hours passed with no word. By now I was a total wreck and didn’t know how much more waiting I could take.
It was three o’clock and I should have been on my honeymoon. The ranger called: Bob and his best man had reached the castle at the top. While everyone else was cheering, I was tearing. A heavy weight lifted from my heart.
I asked if the ranger was driving them back, but to my surprise the answer was no! It was against the law. So after climbing all day in thick fog, the poor guys had to walk another two hours down. But I thanked God they were safe.
After I calmed down, a thought came to me. The wedding! Where will we have the wedding? If not on top of White Face, where?
Someone suggested Santa’s Workshop, a tourist spot known as The North Pole, located at the base of the mountain. The village had a small chapel, too. Our wedding day went from “on top of the world” to “Santa’s world” in one day.
To my surprise, I didn’t even need to tell the villagers my story. They already knew and graciously opened the tourist attraction and the chapel to us at no cost. Now all that was missing was . . . the groom and his best man.
Five hours late to his own wedding, Bob finally made it—dirty, sweaty, bleeding, hips chafed from his backpack, toes raw and bleeding. This sight for sore eyes was my sight
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