The images of four weddings this summer are weaving around in my head. Each bride was a different facet of beautiful, each groom a distinct strand of comeliness. Four events drew their own crowds, both from down the street and across the country. Relatives arrived en masse, ready to dance. Some came twice.
I noticed that many of the couples attended each other's ceremony. For some it preceded their own vows, other times followed it. What was it like to be an observer in a ritual when your own is within spitting distance?
It provides another dimension to a moment that spins by all too fast. Maybe it is like the people who have a near death experience, and report watching their own bodies from the ceiling. The same promises, heard rather than spoken, can add a layer of commitment to a covenant that is intended to endure into gray hair and walkers.
I bet they mouthed the words silently, I do.
So do I.
