Last night I slipped into the penultimate pew of a wedding. For half an hour I watched hundreds of friends and family arrive dressed to the nines. Dapper groomsmen escorted ladies up the aisle and into their pews, with husbands following behind. This was an especially child friendly event, with elfin faces peeking into the aisle and more than the usual kerfuffle. I counted six daddies and grandpas toting out squawky babies when the noise escalated too high. I hope they came back. The couple themselves love children, as was obvious by the number of flower girls, and smiles tossed freely like candy at a parade to nieces and nephews while they strode back down as husband and wife.
The music... oh the music. The program credited the musicians, but left out any superlatives to prepare me for the voices and string sounds that came lofting down from the balcony. Even the groom himself serenaded his bride with a piece on guitar, recorded over hours of practice as he anticipated this moment. Happily we got to eavesdrop on his love song.
When a wedding involves a sit down dinner, the guest list is closely monitored. A private reception is not an event where walk ins are welcome. The crystal and silver have been counted and the number is set. But for the actual wedding, there is always enough for more. Enough what, I muse. Each person's share of enjoyment of the rose petals, and powder blue dresses, and conch shells full of flowers is not diminished by an expanded congregation. Rather, the pleasure increases to meet the swell.
How can this be? Surely there is a limit to how many friends a person can greet, how many gifts can be piled on a festooned table. Yet the power that surges forth when a couple opens the door to heaven comes from an abundance that is inexhaustible. God's blessings for marriage are as limitless as light on a summer day, or waves crashing against the sand. Even when our hearts are full to the brim, the joy keeps crashing in.
You anoint my head with oil. My cup runs over.
Psalm 23
