In just a few short days her daddy will walk her down the aisle and give her away to the man who is God's best for our daughter. For 22 years we've known this day was coming and we've been actively preparing for the wedding since May, when Titus proposed after their brief courtship. It's been a bit of a whirlwind!
But even with all the preparation and knowledge that we would eventually arrive here, this is hard!
Our family has been so busy with wedding preparations, the wedding shower, figuring out decorations and hairstyles, and working tirelessly to condense their lives and love into an 15 minute video that will be shown at the reception, it's sometimes easy to forget that each passing day inches us closer to the inevitable. The distraction and busy-ness has been good. But in those early, pre-dawn moments when it's quiet and my heart is still before the Lord I feel the tug of war. Great joy mingled with sadness.
We've been down this road with other daughters and it doesn't get any easier.
On the one hand, there is this sense of impending loss. Even as he helped her pack up most of her belongings when he was here a few weeks ago to take the boxes back to the house they will soon share 12 hours away, I've tried not to dwell on it too much. She will marry and leave our home and life as we've known it will forever change.
But then there is this other emotion--irrepressible joy and the knowledge that this is good and right and God's glorious best. This transition is necessary for her. For them. For us. And while this lesson in learning to let go seems painful and hard at times, it is also stretching and growing each of us in ways we hadn't expected and is a great reminder that "life as we know it" is at best only temporary. There is a delicate balance between cherishing each fleeting moment, coupled with holding our treasures loosely in our hands.
A father once told me that he didn't mind if none of his children ever married; he would rather they all stay together, just as they are. I remember being perturbed by this thought and I reminded him of what the Lord says about our children.
"He calls them 'arrows in the hands of a mighty man...' but what about those arrows?"
He waited for me to continue.
Reaching over my shoulder, I pulled an imaginary arrow out of an imaginary quiver and loaded it into my pretend bow. "The thing about arrows," I said, carefully aiming at an imaginary target, "They are only effective once they are launched." I let the arrow fly.
This Saturday morning our family will rise early, pile into the big van, and make our way to the sweet little church an hour away to prepare for the big day. There will be laughter and smiles, and much joy. And I'm sure there will be tears shed by sentimental parents and misty-eyed siblings as we prepare to send them off on their new adventure together.
But regardless of the tears, in spite of all the emotions, Terry and I will boldly stand with Titus's parents and rejoice in what the Lord has done.
We will let go and watch our arrows soar.
Photo credit: Maggie Fox Photography. Taken before Haley's wedding.