I drove up to Oakhurst this past weekend to celebrate my friend Annie. She was getting married. Annie and I have been friends since college. She’s one of those friends where you pick up when you left off. I love that.
I don’t know what it is about weddings, but I love them, like totally gushy girl love them. I love everything about them. I love the beautiful flowers and the color and the music. I love the dancing… Oh how I love the dancing. I’ve learned to wear black to weddings not because I am mourning the loss of a friend, but because I sweat so much. It’s just gross, like dripping off my chin gross.
I’m a wedding cake snob. I love insanely savory wedding cake. Moist and light, it melts in your mouth and the frosting doesn’t’ leave a film in your mouth. (I know, I have given this way too much thought).
I love people’s creativity. I remember my cousin, Monica, had a table set aside for everyone to splurge on her favorite food- donuts. Jackpot. I love candy tables where guests can grab a little baggy and scoop to their hearts content. Feeling like I am in the make believe world of Willy Wonka, I jam my little sachet with every morsel possible, the pieces of sweets literally falling out the top. It’s embarrassing, really.
I am mesmerized by twinkle lights and candles and find myself transported into fantasy world where everybody is happy and everything is beautiful. Pure bliss. Pure splendor…
and I love these moments because I get a glimpse of what heaven will be like- intense joy- intense beauty. I am reminded how often God uses weddings-wedding feast- and the bride and groom to explain how He feels towards us and towards the church.
And so I found myself this weekend, sitting for a moment, taking it all in and wondering what it would be like to meet him, my Lord, face-to-face in this kind of setting. Talking across the table, sharing a bottle of wine, dancing with him, me in a beautiful wedding down, Him beaming from ear to ear, his eyes set aflame.
I know it sounds strange. Even as I write I am aware of that, but if the stories in the Bible are real and his friends got to experience life with him, then I want the same… and I want to dance with him.
I picture us slowly moving across the floor as Louis Armstrong croons softly in the background. He holds me tight.
It’s not sexual- just safe. Intense love. Intense Him. Intense joy. I can rest now… I am in his arms.
If we are to spend all of eternity with him, dear sisters, then I want to start now.