one year

On May 22nd, we celebrated a full year of the good, hard, and holy things that go into marriage. A full year of more joy than I thought possible. 

Far be it from me to suggest it's all perfect. It isn't. But as I look at us today, I want for nothing. Nothing. I'm just brimming with soul-deep gratitude for the life and home and rhythms we are forging together as one, the memories we've made and the ones we dream of making together. 

We marked our first wedding anniversary by doing many of our favourite things. Coffee and pastries at Nemesis, a walk hand in hand, poking around boutiques in Gastown, sun-soaked reading in Mount Pleasant Park, sipping honeyed iced lattes he made, time in our beloved first home and a long-awaited dinner at Nightingale (spring negroni, pinot gris, beet salad with whipped feta, lemon ricotta tortelliti, maple chicken, sulami pizza... a feast!). Our conversation carried us through the hours, as we remembered vivid details of our wedding day and the wondrous year that followed. 

We looked through our wedding video and photos, and relived the day we two became one. I won't go on and on about the ways our pandemic wedding was not what we'd always dreamt of, because it would only minimize how truly beautiful it turned out to be. That day, we stood in a small Baptist church in the heart of my city before a small cluster of our loved ones—hundreds more watching online—vowing promises to stay true to the other until death separates us. 

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So many sweet details and fond memories made up our wedding. Waking in my childhood home, so eager to finally marry my Paul. Getting ready in the beautiful home of family friends, who prepared a lavish brunch to enjoy before the swirl of makeup, dresses and hair began. Sending over a box to the place Paul was getting ready, full of all the letters and keepsakes I'd been setting aside since we started dating. Laying my eyes on the flowers when they were dropped off--everything coming together so perfectly. Mimosas with the girls. Mom's tears as she buttoned up my dress. Dad's joy when he first saw me in my full wedding attire. All my bridesmaids sweetly reacting, too. The drive to the church with my dad--feeling so many butterflies, feeling so beloved. 

My childhood piano teacher and a cellist starting off the ceremony with Salut d'Amour Op. 12 by Sir Edward Elgar. Sweet flower girls, so giddy with excitement, in lace dresses and baby breath crowns. Bridesmaids walking down the aisle to Camille Saint-Saens' Carnival of the Animals. Waiting and giggling in the church lobby with my dad, how very "us" that felt. Drawn breath when the doors of the church opened, and I caught sight of my groom. Walking with dad, ever so slowly, down the aisle to Sigur Ros' Hoppipola. Candles, flowers everywhere. Locking eyes with my Paul, my teary groom. 

The tender feeling of being surrounded by people who love and know us. Acknowledging those who were far. Auntie Danny reading words about marriage by Wendell Berry, Elise reading John 13:34-35, Nate reading our wedding passage, Romans 15:3-7. Uncle Glenn's beautiful homily. Worshipping together, Josiah's voice filling the room with hymns that have meant much to our spiritual journeys. Dad officiating the service. Paul so sweetly saying traditional vows in French--making everyone erupt in laughter when he got to the word "solemnly." Slipping rings on one another's fingers... a promise that "Where you go I will go, and where you stay I will stay. Your people will be my people and your God will be my God." Exchanging vows we'd written--we had tearfully read them to each other a couple days earlier, a moment just shared between the two of us. But it meant so much to do so in front of our community. Sharing communion together, centering our marriage on the finished work of Christ at the cross. Our parents praying for us and the new family line beginning that day. Levi's musical interludes, Vous etes mon coeur by Gungor, and Benediction by Josh Garrels. Being pronounced a married couple. Sharing our first kiss as husband and wife. Dancing down the aisle with my newly minted husband. 

Guests awaiting us outside the church, holding music sheet cones full of rose petals. Running onto Sherbrooke Avenue, showered by petals, cheers and cars honking. Kissing a lot. Hugging sweet friends and family. Cream petals strewn across my veil. My grandparents' joy. Walking to the park across the street with our bridal party, strangers expressing their congratulations. Finding more loved ones at a lunch reception under willow trees. Charcuterie, dad's bottled wine. Wedding photos from past generations in our families--a reminder that so, so much beyond the two of us led to this day. Montreal bagels and little jars of peanut butter & jelly (P&J, like us) as our favors. The reception wrapping up right as rain began to drizzle.

A bus ride to the Old Port with our best friends. Photos together. Our beloveds in the very place we began to date. The particular sight of our bridal party, dressed to the nines, betwixt Montreal's gardens and cobblestone and brick buildings, as church bells echoed across the city. This vision for our wedding day had become reality.

Our reception, a dinner party under fairy lights. I would never have believed someone if they'd told me I would have my wedding reception in the youth center I worked in for five years, but pandemics do have a way of shifting plans don't they? Despite it not being our venue of dreams, it turned out to be wonderful. Flickering candlelight in brass holders, roses and greenery covering tables, his & hers signature cocktails (lemon gin fizz, raspberry mint lime mojito), everyone sitting in the circle seating pattern (how intimate that felt), a really delicious meal our friends still talk about (beet salad with goat cheese, sweet pea risotto, beef short rib or chicken roulade or gnocchi as main courses). For dessert: espresso budinos, tarts, Napoleon torte wedding cake (a nod to Paul's Mennonite heritage!). 

The dearest people in our lives joining us on Zoom for the speeches and dances, the sight of them making me cry. Our first dance to Ella and Louis' Cheek to Cheek. Dancing and twirling with my Papa to Charles Aznavour's For Me Formidable. Paul nearly forcing his mom onto the dance floor to dance to Lullabye, by Billy Joel, and how their laughs echoed across the room. Speeches, so full of love. Nathan honouring Paul so well. My sister's words, making me cry. Mom's speech-turned-modern-fairytale, Dad playing a music piece written just for us. Paul's sisters sharing words from afar--how moved he was. Thanking our people for being there, and missing those who couldn't. Escaping for quick sunset photos. Cutting our wedding cake. 

Sparklers sending us off. Driving off to our honeymoon, hand in hand. Starting our life as husband and wife, utterly thankful. 

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Our wedding was a wonderful, wonderful day. If you know me or have read recent blogposts, you know it was not what we'd planned for--pandemic restrictions meant Paul's family and many of our friends couldn't come, our evening reception could only host 25 people, and a curfew ended the party far earlier than we'd hoped. But I'm glad our wedding was never meant to be the best day of our marriage. When I remember this, I'm better able to focus on the very, very good things that happened that day. I remember, too, that God never promised me a perfect wedding--but as my sister said so well in her speech, "Although I know you weren't able to have the wedding of your dreams, I pray you two do have the marriage of your dreams." One year isn't enough to evaluate a full marriage, I know this. But, thus far, marriage with Paul has far surpassed what I ever could have dreamt. 

Many, well-meaning, told us to expect a difficult first year of marriage. This seems to be the narrative spread in our faith circle⁠—the first year is all about figuring the other out, learning to live as one. And while we certainly faced some growing pains and steep learning curves in this first year of marriage, I can say earnestly that it was a delight. 

I feel utter gratefulness for this good, good life with Paul. Grateful for our slow mornings, for the cup of coffee he brings me day after day, for the familiarity of reading by his side in our cloistered living room. Grateful for our walks down Quebec street, for the fistful of flowers he surprises me with (just because), for reading Harry Potter to each other with a spot of tea before bed. Grateful for the practice of gathering, for our storied farmhouse table and the many dinners shared around it—sometimes just the two of us, sometimes full of friends. Grateful for Calgary and Victoria and Montreal and DC and the Carolinas, the distinct joy of exploring places together. Grateful for the intimacy of prayer, for Paul's way of meeting each day with such reverence, for a church community that feels like home. Grateful for summer barbecues and beach sunsets, for birthday candles on a funfetti cake, for Thanksgiving pies, for our first Christmas tree, for snowy walks, for cherry blossoms, for changing seasons just beyond our window and live through together. Grateful for the comfort of arriving at events, together, and leaving, together--no more goodbyes. Grateful for our conversations during long car rides. Grateful for even our disagreements, the growth we experience through them. Grateful for robust laughter, for movie nights in, for Saturday mornings in our neighborhood, for late night pillow talks. Grateful for his embrace after a day of work. Grateful for the way marriage betters and refines us. Grateful for a man who is such a great influence on me, whose treats me as his equal and honours me as his wife. Grateful for a life shared with my best friend. 

I'm just so astounded by God's common grace to us in this season. Such, such grace. 

Weeks ago, I read The Alchemist, and these words stopped me in my tracks: 

"So, I love you because the entire universe conspired to help me find you." 

And it got me thinking how kind God is, to have orchestrated our meeting and coming together. In September of 2015, we were two teenagers alighting our distinct flights to Germany from opposite Canadian coasts. To think of all of all the decisions, conversations, prayers, steps taken to lead us both there, and to where we are today. I can't think of how else we could have met and crossed paths. I'll never know what would have happened had our gap years not aligned, had our friendship not sparked, had we not boldly chosen the path of long distance in the years that followed. I do know, thought, that it was no small thing for us to have found each other. So I thank our God for stitching our hearts together all those years ago, and now still. 

Here's to nurturing the soil of a growing love and partnership that won't wane. I love you, P. Thank you for marrying me a year ago!

A very small selection of our beautiful wedding photos by Kristina Bastien. She was amazing!