I married James last Sunday. It was an occasion for many reasons, but not the usual ones.
I had a beautiful, floating, silk dress. This is the only photo I have right now, an iPhone pic taken by my future sister-in-law, of my Dad walking me towards the beach, where friends and family waited. I was never one to dream about my wedding, but decided if I ever did get married, it was to be barefoot on a beach.
We walked up to my future husband, my father shook his hand, and our calm celebrant began the ceremony. No sooner had our vows been completed, when the heavens opened and our entire party was subjected to an torrential downpour, like in the tropics.
Rolling thunder and lightning cracking overhead, and rain blowing in sideways from the beach. Our umbrellas turned inside out. Our beautiful friends and family still came up to kiss & congratulate us, before running for cover to cars parked a good 10 minute walk (or a 5 minute sprint) away. I’m pleased I had suggested “beach chic, no high heels required!” It was an awesome display of Mother Nature at her most powerful. People running in all directions, hiding behind trees, laughing, completely saturated. It brings a great smile to my face.
Gone were any preconceptions of the perfect wedding. Perfect makeup, or hair, the perfect reception, or perfect wedding photos in the perfect beach location! Most guests went home and got changed, or put on spare clothes they had in their car. James and I separately changed into something comfortable, and we all met up at the designated restaurant for a laugh and fabulous meal. There were absolutely no tears. Our wonderful, drenched photographer, whose camera was thankfully unscathed, took pictures of us in our casual un-colour-coordinated clothes in a beautiful park beside the restaurant, with wet trees and that special late afternoon light.
I will never be afraid of getting caught in a rainstorm again. And I’m even less inclined to worry about being perfect.
Aloha blessings to you in the holidays,