She stepped a foot down the aisle, vintage lace and strands of champagne pearls, her boys holding her hands on either side, and she was in every way what they call a vision.
Of beauty, joy, warmth. Behind and around her light streamed in full.
I could feel the catch in my throat, the burning in my eyes. Michael reached his arm around our three girls and cupped his hand around my shoulder, and we recalled that day and held back tears from running hard.
This friend of ours. Her radiance. Her smile. Her present. This future.
And you could see all over the groom’s face that he had not yet beheld her this day.
“Wow,” you could see his lips form the word. “Wow.”
Eyes holding her tenderly, these two did not stand so much side by side, as his shape formed to meet hers.
We saw the loveliness in the flowers, the bridesmaids, the cake, but there was something altogether transcendent about this story.
This beauty from ashes. This holy gift of one who pressed into every good thing that could be gained through loss.
My friend — the one who chose, as the groom’s sister said, to reject bitterness. To trust what God had for her even then.
The pastor spoke of Christ clothing us — with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience — and I remembered again that even when we do not know what this future holds, we can know what it is to be called cherished. Beloved.
Today, I’m meeting again with the community of Five Minute Friday at Lisa-Jo Baker’s Tales from a Gypsy Mama for some free writing. We follow the prompt, refrain from extreme editing, write for five minutes and encourage each other’s free-flowing offerings. Write with us? This post began with the prompt CHERISHED.