on wedding planning

Number 668 smells of homemade meatballs and spaghetti sauce, and the voice of Elvis Presley is flooding through the windows, all the way down from our upstairs neighbors' dusty record player. I'm humming along, in earnest hopes that The Wonder of You is up next. 

Where June and July in Vancouver made for the mildest Summer I've ever known, August greeted us with hazy and hot goodness. It's cool down here in the basement suite, and I'm ever so thankful -especially when I recall the heavy humidity and sticky heat ever haunting my apartment in the Bronx last Summer. Shudder. The calendar flip to September ushered in cool breezes, as leaves begin to slowly burn gold. Nowadays, though, the city is bewildered by skies of smoke, blown northward along the coast due to forest fires. The air is heavy, and every view is awash in thick smog. 

It's a strange time to be alive. The heaviness in the air somehow matches the heaviness in spirits, as news and neighborhood chatter seem perpetually marred by a sense of worry and exhaustion. There's an unquenchable sense of collective sorrow that doesn't seem to let up for any of us. 

As a couple planning our wedding in the era of COVID-19, we find ourselves hopeful yet cognizant of what could be (or not be). I think of the possibility of marrying Paul with many members of our village not being there. On one hand, I am filled with joy at the thought of marrying him, regardless of circumstances. On the other hand, the thought of our wedding being so far off from what we had always imagined breaks my heart. As we contemplate contingency plans and volley our options, grief sits on our chests like a heavy stack of bricks. This isn't the way it was supposed to be. But although there is a deep longing and aching and sadness for what should be, we are learning to have faith. We are honest about our fears and our heartache, while also celebrating the season we are in and uttering bold prayers for our wedding day. We are choosing to plan for the best-case scenario, whilst keeping open hearts and minds to a swift change of plans. 

The other day, my wedding planning book arrived in the post and I'm so eager to fill it out with every last bit of inspiration, and our endless hopes and ideas. I was, I dare to admit, the little girl who dreamt and dreamt of the one she'd marry and the day he and I would become one. I wondered such things as the season we'd pick, the backdrop of our ceremony, the dress that would feel just right, the flowers making up my bouquet, the vows we would utter as we entered into the covenant of marriage. I love weddings -the significance of two people committing their lives to one another before God and their community, the gathering involved, the unique details picked with thought and care. 

Wedding planning, COVID or not, is a real doozy. It's so special to think of the details that will make up the day we two become one. My hope is that our wedding is a true testament of who we are -those things that matter most to us, and that have been part of our story. I am adamant about taking a step back -often -and asking ourselves, Are we falling into trends and defaults, or are we being true to what our heart sings for? 

Paul is a true gatherer (one of the many things I love about him!), who cares deeply about welcoming our people and ensuring they feel beloved by us throughout our wedding day. It has meant so much to see how much he cares about the details -venues, food, favors, colors -and infuses every decision with his intentionality and wisdom. I love ambling along this process with him. 

Above all else, our prayer is that our entire wedding day would be an act of worship: that all present would bear witness to us yielding our lives (both separate and shared) to the Lordship of Jesus Christ, now and always. 

As people of Christian faith, Paul and I believe marriage to be a sacrament, a grace-filled and sanctifying work through which God makes Himself known. We espouse a theology of marriage that rests upon the principle that through their wedding vows, two people become one, thus mirroring God's union with His people. This institution, created by God, is therefore about much more than simply growing old together, or "living happily ever after." We serve a covenant God who never wavered upon His commitment to His wayward people. Scripture surveys God's love and faithfulness for His bride, the Church. 

With this at the forefront of our minds, we will purpose to espouse the same spirit of godly faithfulness, forgiveness, grace, service, self-sacrifice, and steadfast love in our marriage. Our wedding day, in this sense, represents the beginning of a union that (we pray) will point to the hope of the gospel: that Christ loved us sacrificially, to the point of death, that we might live with Him. Marriages act as a kind of object lesson, reminding us that Christ will return one day to claim His bride. 

All this to say, we take this whole marriage thing quite seriously.

Now don't hear me saying that marriage is the only nor the fullest picture of the gospel. One need not be married to mirror the Christian message: godly singleness, too, is a powerful means by which gospel truth is magnified. I know many singles whose example has highlighted the sufficiency of Christ and of His work on the Cross. This is no small thing. 

What I am trying to get at is this: we are planning our wedding day with a sense of gravity. I ask myself, often, how we can make wedding planning decisions that warrant gospel explanations. What is our focus? What is worth investing in? What is being worshipped here? 

Admittedly, it is easy for me to get swept up in the details. This might sound trite and hackneyed,  but the fine points making up our wedding day somehow feel sacred to me. I want the words, decorations, food, and sounds dotting our day to attest to what it means to be us. And while I don't consider this to be wrong, I want to remind myself what it means to be getting married in the first place, lest I find myself engrossed by lesser concerns. 

When I make the effort to remember such things, I am awed and humbled by the realization that invitations, menus, and color schemes pale in comparison to the commitment we are readying ourselves for. 

In May, I will be pledging my life to Paul's. Before God and our village of loved ones, I will vow to stay by his side until death separates us. I will vow to remain his faithful wife -whether we are blessed with health or are burdened by sickness and disability, whether we live comfortably or are concerned with poverty, whether we have the family we hope for or must navigate childlessness, whether togetherness feels seamless or we face dashed dreams. 

......... Remind me why my choice of venue and lipstick color is consuming my mind in view of such an immense, life-altering commitment?!? Absurd, when you think of it. 

Hence why I am placing mileposts in my heart, cautioning me to remember and dwell on what this is all about. 

People, well-meaning, have asked if marriage scares me. I suppose I understand where this question comes from, given the gravity of the covenant we will be making. Yet I speak for Paul and myself in saying that we approach our wedding with a sense of peace, not fear. We know marriage, albeit hard and momentous and weighty, will be a source of great joy. It is a gift to be able to share my life with the man I love (and genuinely enjoy) so much. And we know God walks with us, and is for our marriage. That is reason enough for us to want to celebrate. 

Setting aside all the world's false promises of endless wedded bliss, we approach the day we will exchange solemn vows with earnestness, yes, as well as heaps of deep-rooted excitement. As I call vendors and try on dresses and consider music for the processional, I am reminded that this season is precious. And I don't want to forget any of it. 

Here we are, at Summer's last gasp, planning our wedding nearly five years exactly to the day we first met. With every detail overseen and item ticked off our to-do list, a single thought brushes up against me: come next Summer, we'll be married. 

I do like the sound of that.