Last October, my dear and lovely friend Sarah June told me about a boy -- scratch that....a MAN -- named Chip. Actually, the very moment before this photo was taken, she had just uttered his name to me. We had a little talk underneath the fiery amber-gold trees in the late afternoon air. We talked of God's surprising and unconventional ways of moving, of what men are capable of doing to our hearts, of possibility. This chat was followed by a few beers and a little line-dancing in the nearby field at the Americana Folk Festival. Her news of this fellow, while nothing was rumbling as of yet, turned over and over in my little head. I wondered, and I smiled.
A handful of months later, he had called her dad and asked for her number.
There were dates.
There were flowers.
There were prayers.
There was a man who was serious about a woman.
In a couple of hours, I and several of our closest girlfriends are driving up the mountain in an easterly direction, where the air is a bit more chilly and crisp and where the minutes go by a little bit slower, and where a big house with two porches awaits us. We aim to paint our nails, sing songs, talk about boys, eat fine food, drink good wine (and maybe tequila), stay in our pajamas, play silly games, freeze panties, go on walks, hold hands, hug each other, and celebrate the impending nuptials of our friend, Sweet June.
On the 21st of November, we girls will don our "burnished olive" cocktail dresses (with pockets!) and precede the delighted, delightful bride. God's goodness hangs in the air around this couple in a more palpable way than I've ever beheld. My heart, oh my heart is full. It overflows with gratitude for this woman, this man, and the love that flickers wildly in their eyes when they look at each other.
God is good, God is perplexing, and God is full of splendid surprises.
