Last weekend it was a joy and honor to officiate over the wedding of my youngest son and his new bride in Seattle. The sunset wedding took place in a lush woodland meadow where frogs croaked and crickets chirped near quaint little walking bridges that stretched over landscaped ponds and waterfalls, nestled charmingly within a retired Christmas tree farm.
As the capacious supermoon ascended the evening sky above, the sweet aromatic pines below glittered in white twinkle lights, creating an enchanted forest atmosphere around the canopied reception area.
Laughter could be heard over the din of music, as history and memories made their mark from large wooden farm tables held down by sunflower-filled mason jars, southwest fare and libations.
Some sat around the crackling fire pit making s’mores while others abandoned their shoes to the dance floor.
Then the farewell send off, when bride and groom made their exit through a cobblestone path, lit by sparklers held by those bidding them adieu. Two lives had officially become one.
In biblical times, weddings typically lasted as many days as our culture now sets aside to celebrate in hours. Trying to take it all in, I found myself drifting off to the sidelines to watch, listen and absorb this blessed event.
Here was my second of three sons now married off. Just a few hours earlier, I’d led him to the front of the ceremony, where we stood for the bridal party procession. Standing next to him, my mind was flooded with memories from his youth; from birthing him into this world, to stitches, ER visits and surgeries; the plays, concerts, ballgames; driver’s training, first job, heading off to college, and all things in between that prepared him for this moment in time. How surreal to now be at his side, leading him in transition to the next phase of life.
My sentimental journey was interrupted as I saw his veiled bride appear in the distance upon her father’s arm. It was time for me to instruct the guests, “all rise” so the vision of white could move toward us.
As her father gave her hand to my son, so I would lead them through their covenantal wedding vows before God, pronouncing them man and wife.
This in essence begins the leaving and cleaving process and encompasses the circle of life. In less than 12 months, I have officiated over the funeral of my father, which was soon followed by the birth of my first grandchild, and now officiating over last weekend’s wedding.
The greatest gift God gives us — outside of sending us his Son — is the family unit. It is through family that we are first loved and learn to love. It is through family we first learn to forgive and be forgiven. It is through family we first learn to communicate and feel heard.It is through family new life is birthed.
As I come back from the edge of the reception, I see my granddaughter yawning and scoop her up from her mother’s arms.
Her eyes dance when she sees me and I catch a glimpse of my late father in her eyes; you see she resembles her daddy, who resembles his grandpa, and so goes the circle of life.
Now two more have become one in our family. I look forward to God loving me and loving him back, through their next generation yet to come.
The Rev. Heidi Summers is affiliated with Freedom in Christ Ministries, is a board certified pastoral counselor, board certified life coach and is currently completing her doctorate at Fuller Theological Seminary.
No comments:
Post a Comment