At this time last week I was fiddling with my rose gold hair pin in the bathroom. Timothy was on his way to come and see me for the first time in my wedding dress – the dress that had hung in my closet for 5 months, waiting and waiting for the day I could finally dance in it. Our day was everything we wanted it to be and this first week of marriage has been positively blissful.
Leading up to the wedding there were a few comments that were repeated over and over and over again by different people. The biggest one was that the day would be over before we knew it. That it would blur past us and at the end of the day we would find that we had missed things. “Don’t worry too much about the details”, they’d say, ” you won’t think clearly enough to even see them on the day of!”
Ultimately, I suppose this was true. I didn’t notice the center pieces on the reception tables, though it took an hour to put them together. I didn’t even think to look at the cake all assembled, though you must know I gave specific instructions to my sister to bring me a piece the MOMENT it was cut. Some dance songs played without my even hearing them and even some guests came and went without my getting the chance to see them. Try as I have this last week, I can’t even bring to my memory all the lovely words our pastor said during our ceremony.
I missed some things. But I would not say that it was a blur. I would not say the details hadn’t mattered. Maybe the aesthetic details didn’t impact the day very much, but details mattered. My wedding day didn’t zip past my eyes as quickly as people had said it might. I may have missed it when “Don’t Stop Believing” played during the reception, but the things that mattered the most are engraved into my soul.
I will always remember the most precious friend who spent the days before the wedding working at the church with me. With her beautiful baby strapped to her chest, she ironed table cloths and made my bouquet. She kept ladders sturdy and helped me create the altar at which I would be wed.
I will always remember the gathering in the kitchen of women I love putting together fruit kabobs the day before the wedding. I sat on the sill of a big bay window holding that sweet baby in my arms and watched my sisters and mother and aunt and friend laughing over bowls and bowls of fruit. Their joy, their willingness to serve, to help, was positively radiant. I’m thankful for their laughter that echoed through that kitchen and rested on my anxious heart.
I will always remember how I felt gathering up my wedding dress and beginning the walk towards a turned away Timothy. We saw each other before the ceremony because we wanted that moment to be just ours ; we had waited and counted and paced for that day and that moment was deserved by only us. I could tell even from looking at him from behind that he was nervous. I had heard him in the other room struggling to get his tie just right and the nervousness from his fingers seemed to have taken over his whole being. When our photographer told him to turn around, he did so slowly. When he saw me, his smile took over his entire face and the nerves he had been wrestling with turned into the most lovely laugh. I picked my dress up a little higher and shuffled as quickly as I could into his arms. The arms in which I have always felt safe and loved. That day more than ever, those arms were my home.
I will never forget the moment right before the doors opened for me to walk down the aisle. It was the most real thing I have ever felt. It was similar to the feeling you get when you’re at the top of a roller coaster, or when someone holds your hand for the first time. It reminded me of when I said goodbye to my parents the first time I moved away, or when I loaded up all my things and drove away from people I loved and moved to Memphis. Those moments when you’re about to do something that scares you, but you’ve been led there by God so you know that it’s good and right and true. I walked down the aisle with both of my parents because the three of us have always done everything together. They’re my people. My best friends and my foundation. Standing there in the hall, with my mother on my left and my father on my right, all the nerves that I had some how avoided leading up to that moment ransacked my heart. “Saturn” by Sleeping at Last started playing, my mother put her hand on my back, and the doors were opened. I was scared, so I did what I had alway done when I was scared: I squeezed my father’s arm. He cupped my hand with his giant, familiar hands, and led me through the doors.
I will never forget the sight that awaited me once I began walking down the long aisle to Timothy. Looking back at me with such love where the faces of almost everyone I love. The face of a friend who traveled down from Atlanta to be part of this day. The face of a friend that I have known since first grade. The friend who prayed with me when I needed it the most, the friend who traveled to memphis to visit me when I lived there and was so lonely. I saw friends who were carrying burdens and brokenness. Friends who sat aside their own hurt in order to be joyous with me – what exceptional community. I saw my family. Family who had to travel a long way to come but came anyway. I saw my nephews who were more like my bothers when we were growing up. I have looked into their faces a million times before this day but seeing them in that moment was the most important of all. I saw the precious woman who gave birth to me – our matching blue eyes filling up with tears.
I will always remember serving communion to all of our guests. Timothy held the wine, I held the bread and we asked all those who loved Christ to join in with us. God was so present in that moment. I saw Him in every person who came to us and partook in the body and blood of Christ. I saw Him in every shoulder squeeze and hug that were snuck in. The last thing Christ did with his people before he was crucified was take communion. The first thing Timothy and I did in our marriage was the same.
I will always remember the fullness of hearing Timothy say his vows to me. Words I had wondered if I would ever hear, words I don’t deserve to hear. I looked into the eyes of the man that I love. The man who God used to change my life. The man who has taught me grace and love and how the gospel plays out in our lives. The man that I prayed for before I knew him.
These are the things that really count in a wedding day. These are the things that matter… period. Community and love and grace and Christ. These details mattered. It mattered that the people who were part of my day weren’t strangers, but those who had made big impacts in my life. Anyone could have done my hair, but it mattered that it was one of the most lovely girls I have ever known. A friend who had loved me out of some heart break and who shared my joy on this day so authentically. It was important that the friend who did my make up had allowed me to intrude a day at the park years ago because my heart was so sad. She had been at the park with her children when I texted her. She brushed my hair out of face and poured wisdom into my heart as her kids played in the background.
Centerpieces and bouquets and favors don’t mean anything. Those are the things that blurred past. What lingers are the things that I wouldn’t dare forget.