Last Saturday I went to a wedding of two friends and witnessed love sewn together simply and in sincerity.
Since I could spell I have been doodling the name of Jesus in the margins of bulletins and notebooks. Sometimes I would add a cross or a few swirls and hearts. I have always boldly claimed that any man I married must love God first. He would be romantic and spiritual like a twisted prince charming mixed with the fictional heroes Christian authors are creating.
But it was Saturday, listening to the vows that I was stunned with a new revelation. The pastor reminded both Brittany and Meguell that they would never be each others 'first love' and that the covenant they were entering was between three and not two. It made sense of course, Christ had to be the foundation or the point of the triangle; yet as the words came out of his mouth my heart protested.
I shocked myself with the honesty I masterfully repress when it contradicts my doctrine. All romantic tears which were welling quickly gasped and hid exclaiming the unjustness of this fact; Not my first love? I have to remind myself that I know all this, but why did it smack like my mom's chewing gum?
Knowing the answer doesn't always bring contentment, because awareness of the truth still leaves us with the decision to accept it.
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