In L’Arche, we often say that “we are a big family.” This idea may be understood in a number of different ways, but my experience yesterday completely affirmed that the expression is well chosen.

Léonette is house responsible at L’Arche Chantal. A reserved woman, silent, smiling, she does everything with love. To me, and now also to you, she is Léo, our sister. In Creole, she is “sè’m”– my sister.

Jean Chéry has been a carpenter at the Chantal workshop for some time. Self-effacing, gentle, he is a calm and smiling man. To me, and now to you, he is “Boss Jean.”  To be a “boss” means to be a craftsman. His craft, learned on the job as it were, is carpentry. In Creole, he would be “Boss mwen”– my boss.

Yesterday afternoon, in the quiet yard of a house in the middle of nowhere, two families prayed together. The coconut palms and the hens, the hot sun and one white man witnessed the singing voices of the mothers, who made us long to find comfort in the arms of this young woman, to find courage in the arms of this good man.

Léonette is going to be married. So is Jean. They have decided to have a double wedding since it is more practical. No! Kidding aside, the two lovers will join their lives forever this coming December 24th - just before midnight Mass, I was told. As Léo’s brother and Boss Jean’s friend, I was invited to the celebration of their engagement and I had the right to say something there – me, who loves to talk …

In Haitian tradition, the future groom does not attend the engagement event. So we toasted Boss Jean’s health and enjoyed excellent griot, bananas, acras, and carrot salad. As it turned out, it was a good thing Boss Jean wasn’t there– I would have eaten less! Before we ate, each person expressed his or her feelings about the upcoming marriage. Léo’s mother is a true grandmother, someone whose picture you want to take whenever she smiles at you. Her words were ringing expressions of love and pride; she was a happy and fulfilled mother – you could see it in her shining eyes. And Jean’s mother, more serious and reserved, was the person who made us laugh hardest. In Creole, she said: “Si w pa marie’l, w pa bezwen vini la kay mwen enkò!” Seated in the shade of a tin roof, she was overjoyed to participate. And what was it she said to her son? “If you don’t marry her, don’t bother coming home …!”

And, thus, everything was said. These two families have walked alongside one another for generations, and yesterday the ties between them were welded together, in love and respect. The white guest, proud to have participated in such a silently perfect event, left the gathering convinced that, sometimes, we do choose our family …