Last week was the wedding blessing. If you follow my blog, you will know that my daughter was married in Scotland a few weeks ago—an incredibly happy day with lots of colour and loud voices and large men in kilts. It was a celebration, and it was marvellous. However, being married is something serious, and when I heard they also wanted to have a service of blessing, in our local church, I was delighted.

The plan was to have a short service, very low-key, attended by just close friends and family. We don’t currently have a vicar at our church, but the previous vicar—who my daughter and her husband have met and liked—kindly agreed to lead the service. I have never attended a wedding blessing before, and I wasn’t sure what to expect. But the vicar met the couple a few times, and talked about what they could do, and advised them on what was appropriate, and together they made a plan for a short service.

I spent the day before cleaning (not easy, as I will explain in another blog) and decorating the house with bunting and bows. I found some strings of flowers on Amazon, and hung them around the front door. My sons arrived, so there were beds to make, and meals to prepare, and time was too short but we got there eventually.

On the afternoon, we all dressed in nice clothes (dressed as if going to a nice restaurant—as instructed by my daughter) and set off in various cars. There was then a brief moment of confusion, as one of my sons realised he didn’t actually know which church he was driving to (!) but we all arrived in time.

My daughter and son-in-law were at the church, welcoming people and smiling and looking happy and not too nervous. My daughter was wearing another white dress (we only had one wedding dress when I was married!) and carried yellow roses, which made me smile. (When she was born, everyone sent me yellow flowers, so I always think of her with yellow flowers, not pink.) The church looked lovely. The flowers for the Sunday service were already there, and they were white as the flower ladies knew we had the blessing. The heating had been switched on, so it was nice and warm, and the verger had lit all the candles. It was very special.

The vicar started the service, my daughter and her husband waited at the back, and the organ started to play. . . The Phantom of the Opera! She had chosen this, to surprise her husband, and as people recognised the music they started to smile, and laugh, and by the time they reached the front, everyone had relaxed and realised this was not going to be ‘a boring church service.’ It was something different.

There was a reading about love from the Bible, and a poem. The vicar spoke about marriage, and advised that it could be tough, and needed commitment, and things like not going to bed angry (Husband kicked me) and remembering to notice the needs of the other person (I kicked Husband) were important. The couple then listened to the marriage vows, and agreed that this is what they had promised to do when they married. Their rings were blessed. They knelt, and were prayed for. The congregation promised to support them. There were  three hymns (songs that people would know from school assemblies, as many of the people there don’t usually attend church).

It lasted about half an hour, and I think it was perfect. The thing is, being married is not always easy. We have been married since 1988, and my husband is my very best friend. But sometimes I feel angry, or lonely, and sometimes we get things wrong. Therefore, asking God to be part of a marriage seems sensible to me. Why wouldn’t you want the extra help to sort things out, when someone needs to be forgiven, or things feel impossible because you haven’t slept for weeks due to a new baby? Marriage should be about love, and joy, and faithfulness, and those things describe who God is, so including him makes sense.

Afterwards, everyone came to the house for tea and cupcakes. We had champagne, and my sons made a speech. (Brothers speaking about their sister was always going to be funny and naughty and affectionate.)

And that’s it—wedding stuff is finished. It has been a special time, a good memory. Life should be about creating good memories.

Thanks for reading, I hope you have a good week. Take care.
Love, Anne x