It Takes a Village

For several months, the two of us have been rattling along—slowly and steadily at first, and then, all of a sudden, at lightning speed—toward our wedding day this past Sunday. There were a couple of brave souls who volunteered right away to stir up decor, to preside over refreshments, to fashion a cake. Then we all retreated to our respective workshops, pounding out the details one by one. Our own two-person workshop was a quiet but busy one. In the early mornings and late at night, we pooled our resources and put on our most creative thinking caps. Over simple lunches and steaming cups of coffee, we crafted our lists and spreadsheets, made our calculations and recalculations.

Everything changed this past weekend, when a small but mighty ensemble of joyful hearts and open arms descended upon us. From what seemed like the furthest corners of the earth, our loved ones swooped down and began to work magic in many forms. They read poetry and chopped cabbage. They lit candles and fireplaces. They held our hands and told us to breathe. They brought their singing voices and their dancing feet. They wrapped us in an embrace of busy and brilliant love.

By the time we woke the next day, it felt as if all the world were still. Our loved ones had packed up the debris of a wedding well-celebrated and returned to their vibrant and bustling lives. As we begin a new leg of our journey together, I know for sure that we are learning from the best. We are learning from those who love with their hands and with their feet, with their full hearts and with their comforting voices.

We often envision weddings as a celebration of the love of two people for one another. But I was delighted to witness this weekend what I already must have known: that our bright, little love is buoyed by our village of family and friends, near and far, who love us steadily, and then sometimes, all of a sudden.