I drove to Alabama on a Monday, happily exchanging the palm trees of the coast for the kaleidoscoped colors of the autumn-cloaked mountains. My college roommate and dear friend, Kayla, was to be married the following weekend, and I was arriving early to offer whatever assistance I could during the final preparations.
In the midst of mass chaos, the line between tragedy and comedy is often a fine one. It's as if you have been inserted into one of those disaster movies where everything goes wrong, and though even hearing the two words "tablecloth" and "crisis" strung together might be hilarious from the other side of a television screen, the dilemma of a tablecloth shortage suddenly seems more serious when you're the one who has to fix it. Especially when a new dilemma is certain to arise the next time the phone rings, which is apparently about every fifteen minutes for a bride-to-be.
As the week progressed, we were late for nearly everything. Decorating the reception, the rehearsal, the bachelorette party, the pictures. But somehow, at 3:47pm on October 27, 2012, a gray, windy day that was kind enough to withhold the rain, all the pieces came together as if drawn by an unseen force (let's just call it God), and the rest of the week melted away into the single moment that mattered, the moment that all the week's craziness had been leading toward.
Kayla entered the aisle from the basement stairs, veiled and radiant in white, her mother by her side. I ventured a glance at the groom. The expression on Daniel's face was one I had seen before. It meant the woman he loved had entered the room.
Kayla and her mother walked slowly, to the rhythm of the gentle music. When they reached the front of the church, Kayla's mom lifted the veil to give her daughter a kiss before taking her seat. The preacher, who also happened to be Daniel's grandfather, said a few words, but the words didn't seem as important as the people standing there, they couldn't encompass the meaning that those two lives did.
Then came the vows. These promises they had written themselves, and Daniel went first. I smiled while he spoke and tried to keep the tears at bay, for I had no doubt that he meant every word of love and devotion he uttered. When he finished, it was Kayla's turn. As she read her vows, her voice began to shake--not with fear or nervousness, but with the strength of her emotion. And I started to cry, because I knew the stories behind the words, the stories that had led Kayla and Daniel here. I knew the roads they had traveled to stand before us that day were not easy ones. But I also knew, as the bride and groom looked into each other's eyes, and the joy lit their faces in a way that words simply cannot do justice, that it had all been worth it, for the sake of this moment.
They lit the unity candle, were pronounced husband and wife, kissed. Walked down the aisle as Relient K's "Must Have Done Something Right" played in the background. We followed them outside, where hugs and congratulations were exchanged. We shivered in weather that had dropped twenty degrees since the previous day, but we were happy, because they were happy, and because their love was beautiful.
The reception was perfect. Lasagna for dinner, followed by a speech by the Best Man, which celebrated the occasion as a truly momentous one. The cake was cut, and a second speech was given, this time by the Maid of Honor, Kayla's little sister. The speeches were so filled with genuine love for both the bride and groom, I was fighting tears again. They danced their first dance as a married couple to the song "Kiss Me," by Sixpence None the Richer. Afterwards, we joined them on the dance floor, and the rest of the time was a blur of music and movement, broken only momentarily as the floor was cleared for the mother-daughter dance to Lee Ann Womack's "I Hope You Dance." The Maid of Honor also sang a gorgeous rendition in French of "The Music of the Night" from The Phantom of the Opera, though I've already forgotten where exactly in the order of events it was placed.
As the bride and groom prepared to leave, those of us who were left crowded them with goodbyes. We ran out ahead into the frigid night air, lining the path on either side and blowing bubbles over them as they walked to their car. Daniel helped Kayla into her seat. I waved goodbye and blew kisses at Kayla until they drove away.
It is awe-inspiring to witness something as God intended it to be. It is the feeling of watching the sun bleed over the horizon on a clear day, or snowflakes swirling down and blanketing the world in white, or standing on a mountaintop and seeing the world spread out below like a patchwork quilt, almost as if you are flying. It is a moment in which you know everything is beautiful and right, and you forget for an instant that the world is broken, as you see a vision of the world as it is supposed to be.
Kayla and Daniel's love is like that. Yes, it has its imperfections. But if you spend any length of time with the two of them, you come across moments in which you see love exactly as God created it to be. A love like theirs is rare, but it is real, and when you see it, you can feel it in your bones. And I thank God for it, for I know these things are miracles, brief glimpses into heaven.
Awesome. Thank you so much for writing this so I can have a little peek into the wedding and the emotions surrounding it. I'll go look for those songs you've mentioned now and see if I can't increase the depths of my vicarious experience of the event.
ReplyDeleteGreat job, too. Very nicely written. I hope they'll print it up and frame it somewhere in the house, maybe pin it to the fridge. :)