She got married on Saturday.
This one I’ve known for a decade
and loved as if she were my own.
I’ve seen her face hardships and disappointments
and I’ve watched her and her man
weather four years of dating together.
She’s the one who kept me going
when I wondered why I spent hours writing all that I did
and she cheered me on all through that first novel.
I love her so.
God granted me the greatest gift that day.
He allowed me, and some of my dearest friends,
to serve Makayli by feeding her fans.
two hundred, twenty-ish guests,
in one barn.
It was her perfect wedding.
Then, in a mad rush,
I left the food for someone else to clean
and dashed off to see my son and his sweet girl…
when the house was quiet,
and the dancing was done,
I laid awake.
How is it that the sweet twelve-year-old girl
who stood in front of our congregation
with a shaking voice,
and tears on her cheeks,
thanking me for the Bible studies that I wrote
and we cried together…
how is it that she was the most beautiful bride
I have ever seen,
and is now his wife?
How is it that my mancub,
no longer cub,
planned, paid for,
and executed an incredible weekend,
tuxedo, flowers, dinner, dancing, shopping
with his sweet girl…
how is it that I watched that one now a man
reach out and shake her father’s hand
and introduce himself?
how is it that I’m old enough
to watch one of my dearest friend’s daughter
walk in on her daddy’s arm
and watch my son drive away
in a convertible all dressed up?
In the dark and quiet hours
of early Sunday morning
I sat under a blanket
and prayed for these.
And, in that moment,
my past memories
and their future moments collided.
I’m so grateful for this front row seat.