This past Spring I had the privilege to perform a wedding at one of our beautiful botanical gardens located here in Central Florida. The wedding was the second time down the aisles for both the bride and the groom and each had children in attendance; the groom with his three girls and the bride with her two sons.
As the wedding guests and the men of the wedding party assembled around a remote gazebo, the bride and her bridesmaids gathered at the start of the walkway. The first bridesmaid made her way down the sidewalk and gracefully took her place in front of the gazebo, as did the maid of honor. When the bride, who was escorted by her oldest son, started making the very long walk toward the gazebo a large red squirrel was playing overhead. About four steps down the sidewalk, the squirrel fell from his lofty perch in the Live Oak tree and fell to land with a “thud” on the hard concrete below. Motionless , the body of the squirrel lay in the middle of the walkway.
As I looked down the aisle I realized that for the bride to get to the site of her wedding ceremony she was either going to step over the lifeless squirrel or someone would have to move it into the foliage. Acting as quickly as possible I asked the remaining son of the bride (who was standing as a groomsmen,) to go and “kick that squirrel into the bushes.” Before the young man could take more than just a couple of steps toward the seemingly lifeless squirrel, it sprang to life and shot down the sidewalk; straight for the first bridesmaid. She screamed in panic, climbed upon the railing of the gazebo, and proceeded to wave her bouquet like a sword at the squirrel.
When all the commotion had passed, the bride made her way down the sidewalk to one of the most beautiful intimate ceremonies.
And it all happened down the aisles.