Wednesday, June 1, 2011


Nine years ago on another warm summerish evening, my beloved and I were walking down brick aisles, through a congregation on the lawn to have and to hold from that day forward.  We were joined in front of an intimate group of family and friends, in the practical backyard of our first shared home, within the seminary community that had drawn us together. 

Our wedding was a dream, one of those perfectly realized ones that is still vivid in my mind.  We planned and shared each detail together, from the invitations to the ceremony itself.  I can recall the heat and humidity of the day, and friends circled 'round to fan me with my dress.  I treasure the casual schedule of the morning, painting pottery with my honorary bridesmaids, while the guys checked out the art museum.  My girl friends helped me get ready, took pictures, and even made our bridal bed before our evening service.  John was getting ready in a neighboring apartment, and when he was late, I was initially nervous, but was delighted to discover he was orchestrating a flower surprise for me.

Our ceremony was planned and written by us, down to our carefully selected vows, which we both managed to mangle in the same part.  A professor and friend officiated, and the dean of the seminary played and sang our wedding song, to which we walked in together.  I remember the smiles of my mom and grandmother, the busyness of friends' preparations, and the fun of everyone mingling as we waited, and the meeting of my groom halfway as we prepared to walk together.  I remember our happy tears and a kiss to remember at the end.

Our postlude walk was to bubbles, and a wave over our shoulder as we walked back together to our home and to the new life ahead.  We shared Chinese take-out for our wedding feast.  It was perfect.

I feel so blessed that our life together still feels both so new and so comfortable.  Three moves, multiple jobs, and two kids later, he is still my soulmate, my love, and my best friend.

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