So, here's the deal. Ian and I will be married on the 28th of this month.
Whether I trip halfway down the aisle, or he stumbles while saying his vows.
Whether we actually get these silly invitations out or we're stuck with Facebook and phone calls.
Whether his family is feuding or not.
Whether my family even shows up.
Whether or not we can see the light at the end of the tunnel.
The sweet arms of Jesus are wide open for us no matter what trivial things come our way...and we still have hearts filled with love when the day is over anyway. So why worry anymore? I know, I know. It sounds easier than it is.
When the day is over, and when the weekend is over...when the weeks and months and days and years go by, when they are over...this party, this celebration doesn't even matter in the scheme of it all. All that matters is the covenant we are making with each other, under God. What else and who else matters without God, and without our commitment and love for Him and each other?
Who is going to wipe my tears when I cry or pick me up after I slip (ungracefully, might I add) on the icy porch stairs and still tell me I'm beautiful? When I'm forgetful and leave the refrigerator door open, or leave my phone on the hood of the car when it's storming outside; when I put a red shirt in the laundry with all of his socks and turn them pink; even when I forget dinner, or worse, I burn his dinner; who is going to forgive me and tell me it's all okay?
Ian is.
Love is.
-A
