Autumn Marriage

This past Sunday morning, I woke up early to meet a friend for breakfast. I was driving along a back road, largely zoned-out thinking about coffee and impending wedding details.

Then the beautiful, early morning fog caught my attention as it rolled through a small field into autumn-tinted woods.

With the miracle of marriage on my mind, the sacrament was all I could see in that landscape.

Engaged, one stands in a clearing, looking at the beautiful but shrouded path ahead. A long walk through the woods, like marriage, it is at once mysterious, magical, tedious, exhausting and enchanting. It requires tenacity, patience, endurance, purpose and attention. At times it will be terrifyingly dark, and other times the light will dance through the leaves like a dream. At times momentum will carry you quickly forward, while some inclines will turn mere steps into gargantuan feats. There will be loss of direction, back-tracking, walking in circles, stumbling, and horrible changes in elevation. You become scarred and weathered, yes, but also strong and seasoned. And you see the face of God - the mountains, the clearings, streams, flowers, stars, songbirds - the miraculous moments that drew you to the woods in the first place are bread for the journey.

Sunday night, I watched two dear friends commit to this wooded-walk, knowing little of what lies ahead but certain of their Sustainer. It was a joy to watch them commit their strength and tenderness to one another, and we are eager to share this new season of life with them.

I distinctly remember the first time Yanni brought Kelly over for dinner at our house. She is gentle and soft-spoken, but, within minutes of meeting us, she was fearlessly singing an Aussie birthday song. We were sold.
Over the last couple years, we've had a small window into their relationship - we've seen them grow in communication, in purpose, in kindness and in sacrifice. They are both better people because of their love.

Congrats, Kelly and Yanni. You have all our love, all our support, and any ounce of walking-wisdom we can offer.