Wedding Moments

I call Juliann my red-headed stepchild. As a teen, she and her brother spent the better part of several summers with me and my kids, and during those visits, she grew near and dear to my heart. It has been my honor and privilege to watch her grow up, to give her advice that she sometimes even takes. Her life, through no fault of her own, has not been a bed of flower petals, but despite (or perhaps, partly because of) the hard things she's lived through, she has grown to be beautiful, inside and out. She works hard, she loves fiercely, and she dreams anyways.

And, this past weekend, she married her high school sweetheart. 

They haven't been together during all the years since high school; life sent them down separate paths for the better part of a decade. But since they reconnected three years ago, it's been fun to watch them create an adult version of that adolescent love. They haven't shied away from asking the hard questions. They've worked hard to lay the groundwork of a solid foundation, on which they are building a lasting relationship.

My red-headed dear carries a lot of weight on her shoulders. I watched with delight as, on her wedding day, she set down every one of those cares, and just let herself feel the joy of the moment. As she and Josh stood beneath the wedding arch, looked tenderly at each other, and exchanged the vows they had created, my heart soared.

There's something about the hope inherent in a wedding that brings tears to my eyes. It takes courage to look around at the debris which is the end state of many marriages, and decide to commit to one another for a lifetime.

At the dance after the ceremony, the DJ called all married couples onto the dance floor and the music started. After a moment, he asked those married less than two years to leave the floor. The music played on. Five, ten, fifteen years - already there were only a few people remaining in the dance. When he got to thirty years, it was just my sister Julia and her husband Ed still moving to the music, looking at each other with laughter, and perhaps a bit of amazement, because they've made it this far.

I hope, in thirty years, Juliann and Josh will be at a wedding, and will be dancing just such a dance. I hope they will still look at each other with tenderness and care as they circle the floor, the better part of a lifetime of love still holding them together.