We’d been driving for what seemed like hours. Maybe because it had been hours. The atmosphere turned white, every last, loose snowflake not cemented to earth by former winds hurtled to the four corners by a vicious iciness; our sight often blinded to the road ahead.
We endured these conditions for the promise of what lay ahead. A reunion. A celebration. A ceremonial expression of self-denying love. In other words, a wedding.
Simple folk, simple setting, simple service, simple vows. Vows to love, honor, respect, in sickness or health, for richer or poorer, to have and hold till death. Beautiful.
Or not. Maybe more challenging than any bride or groom can fathom at the moment of speaking. Simple words to say. Costly promises to keep. A journey just begun – construction to be encountered, maintenance to be done and sometimes brutal conditions to be endured. Endured for the promise of reunions, celebrations, expressions of self-denying love and the wedding of all time.
Again we’ve been driving for what seems like hours. In fact, it has been hours. The winds are mellowed, the snow at rest on my particular highway. Cousins, aunts and uncles, however, are navigating storms and facing unknowns on their own stretches of road. As we all head for home, our prayer is for joy in the journey, excitement at each milepost, eager anticipation of what lies ahead, amazement at the unexpected bends in the road, and a sweetness and rest in our arrival. We pray to be awed by beauty, strengthened by storms, humbled by hardships, and captivated by love, enduring to the final destination.
©Erika Rice 2014