"Let the gratefulness overflow into blessing all around you. Then, it will be a really good day." Louie Schwartzberg
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A Nice Day for a Nearly White Wedding

posted by Susan Dominikovich on , , ,

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My girls carry their own special song in their hearts.  Each one unique and melodious.  Each one perfect and blessed.  A God-given song. 

Madeline's song is quite dramatic with grand sweeping movements.  It often dips into a minor key, but never for very long.  I'd say she's my Beethoven girl but often a heartfelt Chopin.  Abby's song is fully of happy little trills like a birdsong.  Probably Mozart but no Requiems for her.  And Violet's song is definitely something more modern, unpredictable. Sometimes out of key but when you hear it in the full, you realise what those discordant notes were trying to say and how clever it all is taken as a whole.  

There are days when the girls put there songs together.  And out of the combination of grand and sweeping movements , cheerful trills and unpredictability comes something magical. Something truly beautiful.

These are the days when they play for hours on end with a united purpose and put their creative imaginations together in their play.  And the play itself is the new song, all harmonies and melodies working themselves out perfectly.  

Last weekend, I sat on my garden swing in the afternoon early spring watery sun and watched their play.  And I smiled and laughed, my heart gladdened as I listened to their song.

It was a wedding.  Not just a five minute "here comes the bride" and "they lived happily ever after" wedding.  Gowns and suits had to be prepared, flowers picked, basket found, seats arranged, guests arrived, celebrant created, script written, feast put out, cake created.  And of course the vows, exchanging of rings.  And the kiss.  Mustn't forget the kiss.

Abby was the flower girl and her job was to lead Madeline the bride down the aisle, strewing daisies along the way.  Violet was the groom wearing one of her daddy's ties.  The black one because that looked best for a wedding.  Except it was navy blue.  The rings were daisies tied up in grass and the feast was tiny bits of carrot cut up and put on plates along with some cheese and marshmallows.  The cake was a stack of books.  I had not input at all except to play "The Violet Hour" (The Civil Wars, and the best I could come up with on short notice) on my phone for them while the bride walked down the aisle.  Then they had to do it all over again to show daddy when he got home.

The pictures tell the story that went along with the song of their imagination.

The groom gets ready

The guests wait patiently

Here comes the bride!

The flower girl performs her task admirably

Rings are exchanged

The kiss

Bride and groom dance

The happy couple

The wedding feast

I was grateful to hear the light of their song that day.  

But here's the darkness in the light:  as they grow up in this world of ours, as all our children do, I know that there will be some who will try to take that song from them.  It's a treasure and someone will certainly want to steal it.  While they are in our care, it's our job to protect them and their song.  We need to teach them the value of their song, how special and amazing it is and how to cherish it.  But we also need to teach them how to give the song back to God, to allow Him to nourish it, to grow it, to alter its rhythm or meter.  Because only He knows how the song should sound.  And only He can truly protect the song that's in them.   

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