Who knew? I pulled out the laptop to check the reception playlist for the umpteenth time, and a wi-fi signal popped up. A wonderful surprise in a church at the top of a mountain, where air conditioning is provided by big sliding doors that let mountain breezes flow through, and where the native gardens and playgrounds take up as much space as the church building. There are gardeners who live in residence here, a 60-something couple with gray dreadlocks and big, patient smiles. And there is an open kitchen at the back of the sanctuary, and the whole thing just whispers, “so, so salt of the earth…” Turns out my assumption that wireless would be a silly anachronism was happily wrong.
So I’m in the midst of those wonderful moments that pass several hours before the wedding starts. The bride and her attendants are upstairs making final preparations, the florist is seeing to the final details, and the groom his groomsmen are putting up signs and enjoying the company of the exuberant (but slightly anxious) groom before they change into their wedding clothes. The little kids who will soon be wedged into clean clothes and coerced into walking down the aisle are running around, letting out the last bits of energy. The father of the bride is straightening his tie and making small talk with anyone in earshot.
This is one of my favorite times, a time of anticipation. Soon, the place will be filled with love and laughter; family and friends. Soon, folks will whisper to each other about all of the I remember whens, and the speaking of the informal blessings of inquiry about honeymoon details and flowers and food. Soon, bluegrass music will fill the place as lifelong friends process and take their places up front. And soon, a young woman will stride the aisle with her father, pausing every heartbeat and sparking the longing that everyone feels for the Bride to be united with her Beloved, and for the whole world to be made right.