I'm not exactly sure how I got them. I mean I know they came in the mail almost forty years ago, but considering the fact that we have moved five times, and the infamous tendency of papers to escape it's remarkable really.

On my desk are three invitations. Two are to the weddings of dear friends. One is to our own. The oldest is addressed to my maiden name, and formally is from the bride's widowed mother. There are quotes flanking the date and time of the ceremony, from Deuteronomy and Conjugial Love. The calligraphy is certainly penned by hand, though I am not sure whose. There are a pair of young doves surrounded by grape vines. The fruit has been colored purple, also by hand, and the wingtips are edged in gold. The image is a hint of what guests will see embroidered on the bride's waistband. Enough of an enticement to attend, I should say. 

The passage on the left is a bold command to enter into the land promised by God. They chose this in anticipation of a life they could not yet fully see. The one on the right describes true marriage love as the parent of all others, which are like its offspring. They could not know then as they do now, that God would gift them with six precious children, who would enrich their lives beyond measure. 

The second invitation is from a couple whose wedding was celebrated hours before ours. It too is from the bride's widowed mother, and the original was done by hand. The flowers on the cover matched those embroidered on her waistband, and she sewed the ten commandments into the hem of her veil. The quote is about rejoicing. Gladness. Giving glory to God. The one on the inside tells what happens when we do just that: conjunction of God with His people. 

The third paper is not technically an invitation to come to our wedding. It is rather a request to participate once you arrived on the hillside on a June morning in 1980. It has a lamb, like the one embroidered on my own wool dress, and curiously, the same quote chosen by the couple married the night before. I guess gladness was on all our minds. Inside its pages are six pages of music. We like singing. None of it was written by John and me, as it was yet early in our era of composing. 

Three brides. Three husbands. All ready for what lay ahead. And in another sense, not ready at all.