On a sweet, rolling Tennessee hillside, on the family farm, Samuel married Valerie. They exchanged their vows before kin and loved ones and God. They seem very well matched and truly betrothed. The wedding venue, ceremony and reception was Pinterest worthy. It was a poignant day. The moment that finally caught me, took my breath and made me cry was when Valerie and her Daddy (Kevin) dance. It was a father daughter dance done quietly and privately without announcement. Most people at the wedding might have missed it. I didn’t. While people milled about and stood in line for the catered food and the spiked punch, Valerie and her Daddy danced. And I cried at the memory of my own wedding day and dancing with the man who – at the time – felt like my hero. So I quietly walked away across the grassy pasture until a lonesome single dove caught my eye, perched upon the power line. It cooed softly in the finish of the day, as the wedding guests mingled and the bride danced her last dance as a child.
Weddings are potent, they are meant to seize our hearts and minds; they demand we pause and reflect upon such things as love. And we get caught in the loveliness of love that we (too often) skim over the other really important parts. Or time and life grind away on us and a day arrives when love is gone, and its been gone for a while, its absence unnoticed in the haste and obligations of living.
But on a wedding day, it is easy (wonderfully easy) to recall our own weddings. A wedding is a birth, a beginning and in and of itself is a remarkable experience. Valerie is a lovely bride and Samuel and dashing groom. They make a happy couple and have a bright future. By the looks of the gathering, they have a wide and deep support system that wants all the happiness and good fortune for them.