There is a lot going on in the world, and most of it seems frightening, depressing and utterly beyond our control. So if you have not heard, let me tell you about a really wonderful thing that happened this week, a reminder of what matters most.

It's the story of a wedding that took place in Ohio last weekend. The father of the bride was set to walk his daughter down the aisle. But in a surprise move, Todd Bachman, the father, stopped the procession to take the arm of his daughter's stepfather, Todd Cendrosky.

"For me to thank him for all the years of helping raise our daughter wouldn't be enough," said Bachman, and invited Cendrosky to join him in walking their daughter down the aisle. There was not a dry eye in the house.

The wedding photographer, herself a stepmother, took the photographs and posted them on Facebook, where they have been "Liked" by more than a million viewers.

With half of all marriages ending in divorce, families are not what they used to be. When I grew up, divorce was rare and often scandalous, particularly in states that required "grounds" for divorce. The 1970s brought a radical shift, with the sexual revolution (which I've always thought only liberated men, and put unbelievable pressure on women), and no-fault divorce (ditto) bringing divorce to almost every neighborhood in America, including mine.

Since I was all of 19 at the time, I didn't think of either of my parent's subsequent spouses as my stepmother and stepfather. That was, at least in part, because the woman my father married was a world-class jerk (the true description would not belong in a family paper) who thought she was marrying a rich guy, and was bitterly disappointed when it turned out that he wasn't. Even small gifts to his children had to be hidden in the car.

When it rained on the day of my college graduation (36 hours after I'd been raped) and we only got two tickets, my father didn't come, because his wife didn't want him going with my mother and without her. He kept the gift he'd bought for me in the trunk of his car, so his wife wouldn't know, and when his car was stolen, so was the gift. Three years later he died and the witch gave me back the radio I'd given my dad, but absolutely nothing of his to remember him by or to show the grandchildren he would never know. As for my first "stepfather" — the man my mother married on the rebound — the best thing I can say about him is that this abusive man didn't last long. When he came at my mother with a knife after she attended my father's funeral, she moved out.

So I'm the last person you'd expect to write an ode to stepparents. But the story of that wedding in Ohio touched my heart and reminded me that all stepparents are not alike. As an adult, I have seen many of my friends struggle to love and be loved by children who are not their own. Sometimes it doesn't work. But when it does, it is a blessing.

As Todd Cendrosky, the stepfather, described it to reporters, "He came and grabbed my hand, and said, 'You worked as hard as I have. You'll help us walk our daughter down the aisle.' I got weak in the knees and lost it. Nothing better in my life. The most impactful moment in my life."

"Our daughter." No one ever said divorce was good for children, although sometimes it is the best option available. But as these two men showed, divorce does not have to destroy a family. It takes a big man to share his daughter's arm on that special day, and a big man to raise a stepdaughter with love and attention. Congratulations to the bride and her fathers. God bless.

To find out more about Susan Estrich and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate website at www.creators.com.