How many hours went into creating and finding these wedding dresses? One was perfect for dancing at the reception in, with a bustle that hooked in back to free the dancer's spinning feet. Another had a waistband embroidered with a pair of doves and a garland of flowers. Mine was made of wool, not because of the chance of frost in late June, as there is for my daughter's wedding this October in upstate Vermont. I chose a fabric that carried the innocence of lambs, an attribute I aspired to bring into our lives. The yoke was embroidered with red wool thread, and a quote from Revelation. I could read it then, but alas I no longer can. Luckily John knows Greek, and refreshed my memory.

"Let us rejoice and be glad and give glory unto Him! For the marriage of the Lamb is come and His wife has made herself ready!"

One way I readied myself was to embroider a small white lamb made of French knots that smiled below the neckline. And because I wanted them, the dress had pockets, and a red cape that went the way of superheroes. 

It was delightful to see the many gowns that day, and imagine or recall the splendid evenings. Or in our case, mornings.

And yet. 

The empty dresses reminded me that the women who wore them are no longer brides, but wives. There is a difference.  A bride is the shining star of her orbit, the one we can't get enough of. There have been weddings where I almost believed she was illuminated, like the moon. Yet, like the moon, her resplendence does not actually originate from her. It is reflected off of her, from another Source altogether. One so many miles away it can seem to be behind us, yet it is bright enough to light the sky. 

The room that afternoon was full of glad women, including wives. They had no desire to be the apex of attention. That day was back at the beginning. Now they each are absorbed in the all encompassing work of caring for their husbands, and children, and threads of service. 

It's a beauty I never grow tired of.