Weddings

I performed my first wedding at my current church. Heat wilted and glistened and danced with joy on the faces of the bride and groom. Their child was part of the wedding, as a baby bump filling out Mom's dress. In a booming voice edged with emotion, Dad gave away his daughter with the words, "Her Mother and I." We sang "Jesus Loves Me" as the bride and groom poured sand together into their unity jar, creating swirls of white and pink representing two lives becoming one.

Under the shade of our church yard trees the wedding party greeted a cooling breeze and smiled for the camera. The whole experience felt like a breath of fresh air in a society supposedly walking away from conventional marriage.

The next weekend, I set up sound outdoors for my nephew's wedding. He and his bride married on the edge of a field I used to carefully 4 wheel through, so I wouldn't knock down too much hay. The ridge they married on is the big toe of Towner Hill, one of the highest old mountains surrounding my minuscule hometown of Rome, PA. We waited as a passing thundershower cleaned the assembled chairs and crafted bower one more time. The bride and groom turned their backs on Rome Valley and presented their vows to Almighty God and gathered family. As Pastor Theo intoned God's hatred of divorce, a passing thunderbolt underlined the sentiment.

Normally I spout all sorts of opinions about any number of topics built around marriage in the 21st century. Marriage and purity has grown almost as complicated as in Roman times. Purity is wonderful and so is redemption and so is watching young lovers meet before God and pledge their lives to each other.