The Wedding Remembered

I’m sitting in the reverent hush in the chapel waiting for the bridal party to enter. I’m watching the candles burning and suddenly I am transported to another time. I’m remembering a very similar Saturday afternoon thirty-two years ago in June when Frank and I came nervously to this same place to be wed.

The piano prelude, the bouquets of lilies, white and pinks with baby breath spilling down the sides like a foretaste of fruitfulness to come… all reminiscent of our own ceremony. Small. Uncomplicated. Holy.

We were so young. We had no idea what we would do, where we would go, or how we would get there. We couldn’t foresee the journey, the places we’d live and how beautiful our babies would be. All our adventures around the world spanning times and seasons, yet unknown, but sacred.

In sickness and in health. In times of prosperity and hardship. We were together until death us did part. Oh God! Thank you for my marriage! Even though it has come to an end, a premature parting of our souls—I thank you for giving him to me and for all that we shared.

And now I’m seated next to a lovely young woman with ravishing eyes. She is an exotic beauty in a tropical print of reds and creams. Naomi is the living reminder of her father’s spirit. His life continues and blossoms like these floral surroundings, living in watered urns before me or pressed onto the fabric patterns of my daughter’s dress.

These lives of ours, so simple and of such humble beginnings, matter immensely to our God. They will be recorded in His book and engraved on my heart forever.

+++++++++++++++