I watched his face like a sentinel, him facing the crowd with bravely squared shoulders, his brother close behind, whispering, “Be strong. Stay strong.” Now and then he would close his eyes, take a deep breath, and slowly exhale. His jaw tightened and his heart raced, but he was ready.
I didn’t have to turn to see when she came into view; her entry was mirrored in his features as he completely melted, shoulders visibly heaving in the evening sunlight. Adorned in ivory and satin, her veil trailing behind, she was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen.
I couldn’t take my eyes off him, and he couldn’t wait to take her hands in his as her father joined them with a warm hug and a knowing gaze. The two were clearly so excited they could barely breathe, and we were right there with them.
Being the mother of the groom I had resisted the urge to bring my camera with me for the ceremony, but the whole time I sat there thinking, I have to save this. I have to freeze it for later. I just have to.
I soaked in every word and expression, every smile and every breeze that floated past and set the brightly-hued cloths above our heads to dancing like balloons held fast by ribbons. I longed to still time and savor it all.
The evening continued with stillness and prayers, with gold rings and laughter, with an impassioned kiss and the promise of forever. Then came dancing and dining and gratitude spoken amidst photo flashes, family gathered with friends and all wishing the best God has to offer the two-become-one.
And me, I smiled with my soft mama heart and wished them this day in a time capsule for the healing of any sadness that might ever befall.
And all that remembering has me thinking. I don’t always have a camera, but I always have words.
However I choose to weave them, wherever I choose to share them, words are always right there waiting to describe those precious moments, to let me stop time long enough to smell the wildflowers and watch the wildly-colored cloths flap in the wind and see a groom openly weep with adoration and joy at the sight of his bride.
Words weight the memories so they don’t fly away.
So I word it, this present wrapped in earth tones and silk, and I hold it out to my sweet boy and his beautiful girl with a prayer that they always remember.
May we never forget the magic of those moments, never lose the delirious delight that broke the dam and let the tears flow in the beauty of it all as we witnessed an event that will only happen once. May we hold it close enough to savor it over and over because what we witnessed was a miracle. And who doesn’t want to live a miracle again?
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A Write Where It Hurts Column Post