When we lived in Colorado during my husband’s Army days, I first heard a now-familiar saying: “If you don’t like the weather, wait a minute.” In the Rockies, it can be sunny one minute and snowing the next.

When my son and his beautiful bride decided on an outdoor wedding, I revised the saying: “If you don’t like the weather, pray about it.”

I am embarrassed to confess how many prayers I said for sunshine at 6 p.m. on May 16.

For most of the day, it looked as if my prayers would be answered - in the negative. Clouds and showers ruled the late morning and early afternoon. Various on-line forecasts - and all the TV weatherpeople - put the rain chances at 6 p.m. at 80 percent.

Still, I held out hope. The bride, with help from a crew of friends and family, had worked for months, planning meticulously every detail. I couldn’t stand the thought that the one thing we couldn’t control - the weather - was threatening to ruin her big day.

I did the only thing I could do: put on my sunglasses despite the clouds, pronounced myself optimistic and kept praying.

I sat glumly in the back seat of the car, my son and his dad up front, watching the windshield wipers swat to and fro as we drove to Sweet Home Plantation in Harris County. By the time we reached Jones Crossroads, the rain had stopped. Hints of blue appeared in the sky.

“I told you I would need those sunglasses,” I said hopefully, still not confident. There was plenty of time for new clouds to roll in and soak the ceremony.

The weather held. We made outdoor photos with a beautiful blue sky backdrop, then went back inside to pace and primp as the guests arrived and were seated.

It seemed too good to be true - and it almost was. Gentle raindrops began falling as we exited the historic home, heading for our rendezvous with wedded bliss. The minister informed the guests that “we expect this to be a brief shower” and, God bless him, assured them that, if it continued to rain, there was a Plan B.

I exchanged a glance with the best man. “What’s Plan B?” I wondered. “Beats me,” the man of the house replied.

I can’t possibly tell the next part without sounding melodramatic. No movie wedding scene could match what we saw.

As the misty rain continued, the shimmering sun broke through the clouds and there, above the graceful pavilion where the vows were to be exchanged, arching elegantly against a gray/blue sky, appeared a wedding decoration more magnificent than our creative bride could have envisioned.

A rainbow! A perfect rainbow!

A buzz swept through the crowd and awe overtook the mother of the groom as I remembered God’s promise and felt God’s presence. “It’s a sign!” someone exclaimed. “No, it’s a prayer answered ‘Yes!’” I thought.

My boychild took my arm - they tell me I walked down the aisle and took my seat. I have no memory of getting there. I do recall, distinctly, the sensation of sitting down on a slightly wet chair.

I barely noticed the soft rain that continued to fall as the groomsmen and bridesmaids entered. I teared up again as my girlchild, beautiful in her emerald green dress, paused on her way to her assigned place to give her brother a sweet kiss.

Before I could regain composure, the grandtwins were marching solemnly down the aisle, ring pillows clutched tightly in their hands. The princess, followed by the bride’s little cousins, was a vision depositing rose petals on the rain-soaked aisle.

And as the music changed and we all stood to await the beaming bride, the rain stopped. Completely. Not another drop.

The future Mrs. Lovejoy walked down the aisle under sunny skies.

And the violin and cello soared to match the moment: Ode to Joy.

Andrea Lovejoy can be contacted at editor@lagrangenews.com