Toasted

There are wedding bunnies multiplying out in my barn. Dozens of lanterns, hundreds of various votive holders, candles both real and fake, jars and containers of all sizes, lace and tulle to beat the band, and fake greenery curling around everything. I've been collecting this stuff for years, but I'm afraid it's going to take over and start growing like kudzu. 

My extended family doesn't know how to do anything small. It's go big or go home. So when my niece's wedding was looming, my sister and I started hitting up antique stores and yard sales, looking for glass bottles, candle holders and yes, fake greenery. There's some really ugly stuff out there, but we found enough pretty to cover a small town. We descended on Cave Spring, Georgia last Thursday, rolled up our sleeves and got started. An army of young people showed up to help -- we have some giant families in our periphery. The Lord said to fill and subdue the earth and we're taking that seriously. Any event means all hands on deck.  After three days of intense work, the wedding music finally started. We all took a deep breath and watched as beautiful old and young folks filled the chapel. Friends from decades past, family from far and near, and there might have been a few wedding crashers, seeing as the venue is in the middle of a public park.  

When at last the Grandmas and parents were escorted in and the young people began gliding towards the front, it was hard to hold back the tears. This part of any wedding is the golden hour, when so much past, present and future is distilled into a glistening moment. Time seems to stand still and I just want to squeeze all the goody out of it. The symbolism in Christian marriage, where the groom represents Christ and the bride represents His people...paints a lovely picture of all that is good and hopeful and redemptive in this world. I ugly-cry when the groom sees his beautiful, luminous bride, love pouring out of his eyes. 

There's the ceremony, then the party, with feasting, cheering, whooping and hollering. Little kids join the energetic young folks on the dance floor and it all flies by like a dervish. Before we know it, the ice swan is melting and the sparklers are lit and the couple departs in their car. We turn to each other, hugging, congratulating, deflating. There's much left to do, but the party's over. The night and the next day is spent getting it all packed and cleaned up, promising each other that we will never do this again, laughing, because we know it's not true. There are many more to come, with nieces and nephews and then grandchildren in line for their turns. There's always hope that some will marry into money, but then we'd lose all the comradery of the shared, often torturous experience. 

Then again, we could still whoop and holler, even if somebody else paid for all of it. Here's to rich uncles and destination weddings!