My cousin got married yesterday, so this evening - not this morning because it was a long day and a late night - I am beginning a mini series of philosophical musings inspired by the joining of Scott and Anastasia in holy matrimony.
The ceremony took place at Holy Name of Mary church at Hunters Hill in Sydney. The beautiful old Roman Catholic edifice was adorned with blue plastic and scaffolding for the occasion which although disappointing, ignited my cogitation with regard to appearances. Once inside the church, and surround by spiritual and elegant artistry, and the heavenly sounds of a harp, I forgot all about the blue plastic and scaffolding. Once I saw and appreciated the beauty inside the chapel, I forgot all about its dishevelled exterior.
Furthermore, I considered the assembly of family and friends, all dressed in their finest clothes, sitting uncomfortably on hard wooden pews: conversation bubbling with anticipation, and perhaps reflecting on the occasion through the lenses of their own relational circumstances. Among them the single, the engaged, the married, the divorced, the separated, the widowed. As many stories beneath the veneer of smiling faces and sophisticated apparel, as there were people. Happy stories. Sad stories. Tragic stories. Tales which undoubtedly coloured their emotional involvement and enjoyment of the occasion. Cynics and dreamers, believers and unbelievers, all gathered in God's house. Fascinating.
Here's you first chance to share your wedding stories: good or bad, sick or healthy, rich or poor. I'd love to hear from you.