The wedding last weekend was child friendly. There were babies in the pews, children chatting behind me, and six particularly cherished ones in the bridal party. The girls wore their hair up in braid crowns with baby's breath, and the boys had red suspenders. Did they know how darling they were? Not even close.
The
bridesmaids wore deep red, and beside the bright white of the bride's lace and the roses echoed the Danish flag.
How can there be so much joy in one finite space? There were no open windows in the cathedral for splendor to waft in, so it must have had a translucent origin. No doubt the preparations were a party as well, with a dozen women and girls giggling at the hair dresser's, and the baker of the three tiered cake picking the plumpest berries. There was no
alternative but to twirl the night away, and sink your gaze into the couple who both reveled that everyone they love was within arm's reach, and yet felt completely alone in each other's eyes.
The preludes were a collection of their dearest friends and songs, all hand picked to set the mood for a day that they have dreamed about for a year.
"I am the luckiest."
One of the traditions was to
snip off pieces of the veil for others to take home. It is a fitting way to show that the guests are blessed by this marriage too. Another surprising piece of Danish folklore showed up when friends tugged off the groom's socks, then cut off the toes. It didn't seem to slow down his dancing.
The minister spoke of compromise. Not the kind where everyone loses a little, but the partnership when each person rises to a better version of themselves. Some of the
lyrics a few minutes before invited the husband and wife to reach across any divide that might dare to affront them.
"When I lose my way, find me. When I forget my name, remind me."
It turns out most of us need help that way.
