A weekend away at a wedding. I’ve written before about weddings which were just simply right, and here was another.
Jars of flowers tied to wire fences.
Music and candles under an immense tree.
Tiny children and grown-up people dancing in a candle-lit field.
In the evening the bride and her bridegroom stood on the porch and looked at one another as we prepared to send them off, and behold, it was very good. They rushed away in a cloud of sparkler smoke, and I stood in awe of the lovely thing which God had made for the girl with whom I once laughed and cried and learned the beauty of brokenness.
I have come home to a premature autumn and the buzz of my routine when I’d rather sit and dream on gold-lit grass.
So often we muddle along through our small and shadowed places, laughing at ourselves, and crying at ourselves, and being broken, and forgetting the Bridegroom who awaits us with such love in His eyes; who declares us loved, who makes us beautiful.
We can’t yet see Him perfectly; the mirror is dirty, our vision blurred. But still He grants us glimpses, bids us wait, for it will be worthwhile — hangs flowers on our fences and lights candles in our shadowed places, shows us glad, glad faces rushing away in clouds of sparkler smoke.
Very good? Yes, I rather think He is
©2011 by Stacy Nott