Sundays usually find me in the city of Nantes, where I prefer attending an evening Mass. You get a different crowd at the evening mass, and it feels more exclusive. This particular church stands out for its reverent atmosphere, the cherished celebrant, and the more traditional Mass it offers. It’s not just about tradition; it’s the sense of reverence it brings, allowing for leisurely Sunday mornings. But yesterday was different, and I found myself up at the somewhat ungodly hour to go to mass at 9:30 AM.

Why the early rise, you might wonder? I had a date with destiny at 1:00 PM, helping friends celebrate their 30th wedding anniversary.

If you’ve read my recent article about bidding farewell to my beloved X100F, you’ll recall the camera’s untimely breakdown. Fate, it seemed, had other plans for me. The ISO dial had broken down, rendering me unable to control ISO settings. It was a frustrating predicament for any photographer.

In an attempt to assess the camera’s condition, I had left it sitting in my glove box for over a month, thinking I might need to send it for repairs. But yesterday, as I turned it on, I was amazed and baffled to see it working again as if nothing had happened. It was a photographic miracle, one that put a smile on my face.

With my trusted camera miraculously resurrected, I set off for my friends’ home, ready to revel in their love story and join the festivities. It was a heartwarming celebration, marking three glorious decades of their union. But there was more to this gathering than just an anniversary.

My friends had recently embarked on a journey to adopt their second child, a precious soul from China. They were soon to depart for China, eager to bring their new daughter home. The air was filled with palpable excitement, the anticipation of a new chapter in their lives.

As I arrived at the party, I was greeted not only by the radiant couple but also by familiar faces from my past. Friends who had once been my teachers and companions in the orchestra I had been part of until the previous year had gathered. It was a reunion of kindred spirits, a chance to catch up on life’s many twists and turns.

The day took an unexpected turn when my wife joined the festivities later in the after. She had been having a meal with the people she had learned to drive a school bus with, so she was going to be late. Little did I know that the surprise and icing on the proverbial cake were yet to come.

A Serbian orchestra arrived, instruments playing and walked playing up to the rest of us. The moment they began to play, the air was filled with a symphony of pure magic. The musicians entertained us with their musical virtuosity, their music becoming the heartbeat of the celebration.

Under the summer sun and the backdrop of a joyful celebration, the strains of Balkan music filled the air. It was as if the very essence of celebration had taken musical form. The infectious rhythms swept us off our feet, and we danced with abandon, reveling in the sheer euphoria of the moment. Laughter, love, and music merged into an unforgettable medley, creating memories that would last a lifetime.

As I reflect on that day, I can’t help but marvel at how life has a way of surprising us when we least expect it. What began as a simple morning Mass and a camera conundrum unfolded into a day of pure joy and connection. It was a reminder that sometimes, the best moments in life are the ones we don’t plan for—the unexpected gifts that leave our hearts brimming with gratitude.

And so, my summer concluded with a flourish, with the echoes of Balkan rhythms resonating in my heart. It was a day of celebrations, a day of love and friendship, and a day that reminded me of the beauty of life’s unpredictable dance. It’s safe to say that I’ll be holding onto the memories of this day for a long, long time, and perhaps reconsidering the pace of my Sunday mornings in Nantes.