To All Of Us With Rings

Photo credit to K. Overson

There's something about watching wedding vows from shiny wooden benches in the sunlight. Grey storm clouds that hung ominously overhead all afternoon, suddenly slipped away, and family and friends straightened in the unexpected heat. The bride, with a cut-out lacy back repeated her "I do" vows in giddy joy, and I watched her fair skin pinken in the hot September sun. The groom in swirled dark hair stared steady at his bride, proud wonder and amazement seeping from him.

A violinist, guitarist and pianist joined several vocalists in the golden grass to our left, and music floated under blue skies. Bride and groom spoke promises to each other, and I leaned into my husband's side, tracing his gold ring on his tanned finger. He turned and glanced at me, smiling softly, brown hair streaked with slight silver now. We kissed gently, and turned back to watch the vows.

There's something about watching wedding vows from shiny wooden benches in the sunlight that raises in me joy, nostalgia, and gratitude, and yet an awareness this weekend of my own brokenness and flaws. The pastor spoke of sacrificial love that was willing to die for a spouse, and yet often our hardest sacrificial choices are the day-to-day smaller ones. I sat in sunlight, a light flashed onto my own discrepancies.

We huddled close that afternoon as twilight fell, the sunlight disappeared, and grey clouds rushed in. Over wedding toasts, bride and groom games, and guest laughter and conversations, the cold crept in. We dug out fleeces and blankets, sharing between friends, and draping ourselves in overly-large jackets to stay warm. Sipping caramel coffee creations and Indian spiced chai's, my man and I sat close, laughing with others, and exchanging glances through the night.

On the car ride home that night, we talked quietly, affirming love for each other, apologizing for our brokenness some days, and leaning in close. "God is bigger than all this, Jen," Mark said, picturing my struggles, his struggles, and everyone's struggles. "He is patient and good."

This morning, he melts chocolate chips into our home-made hot chocolates, and we hug and pray together before I head out the door. We text a few times, intentional and kind, building each other up, and speaking truth into our relationship.

God is bigger than any of our sins or bad habits or attitudes. He is patient with us, forgiving, and good. He is fighting for us, friend. And marriages are worth it.

Linking with Ann at A Holy Experience.