A long time ago — more time than my sister and I care to admit to — Saturday was a day to be spent at one of the local movie theaters, as we used to call them. We even thought nothing in life could top that back in those “old days.”

Then we grew up, way up, Irma and I, finding out that there were greater things taking place on Saturday afternoons — like weddings, for example. And on this particular August day of 2009, we had an invitation to one — so off we went, to Brent’s and Rachel’s beautiful outdoor wedding at Brush Creek Park. No fancy man-made materials needed — God himself had provided all the decorations and they were perfect.

The sky was blue-bird-blue with puffy white clouds doing a slow-dance-shuffle across the heavens. I guarantee that if clouds can clap, they were surely rocking heaven that afternoon.

In tune with the happy mood of the day, I left my own spirit soar. I pictured Brent’s beloved grandpap perched up there on one of those comfortably-cushioned clouds, a witness to all the loving feelings going on down here.

What a setting for a wedding! Sun-dappled lakes sparkled in celebration as the minister, the attendants and, last but not least, Brent and the families waited for the arrival of the center of attention in any wedding — the bride.

An ancient tree in the background spread its protective branches as Rachel, escorted by two uncles, walked across a picturesque wooden bridge to stand beside the tall young man who was destined to be her husband.

Now it was the pastor’s turn to be the center of attention and he did his part with dignity mixed with a bit of humor. And than quickly, Brent and Rachel were man and wife in the eyes of God and man.

All around them, life was still happening but I doubt if the new couple was noticing any of it. In the background a tiny baby slept in a carrier; a young boy stood, daringly, at the edge of one of the lakes (hoping to see a fish, perhaps). Out in the sunshine, three little girls watched all this in perfect silence and the leaves on that friendly tree rustled in affirmation of it all.

Surely, somewhere up there in that blue heaven the angels must have been smiling while grandpap was saying “Amen,” only one more grandchild to go!”

In a church or beside a lake, on a mountaintop or in a park, a wedding is a solemn promise to each other and to God to love each other forever. Remember that promise on your best days and even more on the ones that aren’t so good. Keep it for all the rest of your life.

Back at the house conversations resumed; the feasting commenced. For the very young at heart — and limb — an energetic volleyball game began.

Different, huh.

May God bless it all, forever and ever. Amen.

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