My son and his wife were married five years ago today. The marvelous thing about a celebration is that you get to enjoy it many times. First in anticipation, second when it happens, and again each time you remember.
Today I remember.
The wedding was child friendly, with paper and crayons on
the tables, and sprinkles on the cupcakes. I had no responsibilities, except to schlep what was handed to me into the vans on the way to the community center, hang twinkle lights, and fill carafes with ice water. It was an iPhone savvy event, their vows being read from small screens, and the guests all shaking a cowbell app as the couple burst through an arch of friends.
Amy sang to Lukas. It felt like we were eavesdropping on a tender moment as their hearts were melted just enough to remelt together. Like chocolate. Her words, scribed by Rich Mullins, spoke of being truthful, and earning an honest wage. Amy could already count the twinness of God's blessings: what they had been given, and what was yet to come.
It has been half a decade,
and the gifts keep rolling in. Together they have seen the moon rise over Half Dome after a sweaty day of switchbacks, and scrambled to create a photobooth for hundreds of party goers. They have recorded the stories of grandparents, and the
songs of Christian
bands. They support one another in their careers, their faith, their pain, and their commitment.
