Trusting in Love
This past weekend, I found myself sitting on the bride’s side of a beautiful wedding. Think Oregon vineyard style. Fall. Indoors, complete with cozy fireplace, dimmed wrought iron chandeliers and candles everywhere.
Now, being a somewhat recent divorcee, I wasn’t entirely sure of this being the best place for me to be. In fact, at the moment, my comfy couch with a bowl of melting mint chocolate chip ice cream seemed to be the more appropriate place for me to be spending my Saturday evening. On the other hand, I have only been to one other wedding in my life and didn’t want to miss an opportunity.
That being said, as I was finding my seat for the ceremony and settling myself into my little white wedding foldy chair, I was also scouting out my exit (if needed).
There was a lot of murmuring and anxious noise around me as I and everyone else settled into our seats. Crossing my legs and folding my arms across my chest, I leaned back and took in the exquisite details of this beautiful place as I waited for the processional to begin. All the while an now-all-to-familiar epic silent battle on the topic of love and marriage was beginning to brew inside me between my post-divorce cynical self and my more natural naive & trusting self. And this environment, complete with its strategic lighting, enlarged engagement photos seemingly everywhere I turned and readings from “The Art of Marriage” were doing absolutely nothing to quell the internal argument I was beginning to take on in row five on the bride’s side.
Though I hate to admit it, this past year has wrecked havoc on my whole attitude toward love. Of everything that I have lost this year, trust is what I most wish I had back.
So there I was, sitting in my white wedding foldy chair, haphazardly looking through the wedding program while quietly trying to mediate the more negative thoughts being thrown my way, when the dim lights got even dimmer and Pachelbel’s Cannon and the wedding party began flowing down the aisle. So I slowly put the program and my negative thoughts away while I uncrossed my arms and legs and leaned forward in my seat. Vows were exchanged, readings were read, declarations of love were declared, new unions of family were made and in the end, James Brown’s “I Feel Good” followed the wedding party out.
And in the middle of row five on the bride’s side, I reclaimed a small part of my old self.
It’s an ongoing process, dear. Congratulations on taking another step, and thanks for sharing.