The morning started at the hair salon.
Her father brought coffee and muffins for everyone.
The bride and the bridesmaids were waiting for the stylist to create their wedding hair.
Phones were in hand checking the weather forecast for the afternoon.

It was not just any wedding, it was the wedding of my daughter.
It had not begun that morning; it had begun over a year before.
It was a day of answered prayer.
It was a day that had been waited for, and hoped for, and was now here.

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Everyone thinks that young love is the sweetest kind of love.
Young love is the focus of love songs and romantic movies.
It is prized and desired; it is put on a pedestal and described as the epitome of love.
That is not the whole story.

That is not even half of the story.
That is the first chapter of a book that needs completion.
Young love is precious and beautiful.
However, young love is not seasoned.

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They sat in the back while we sat in the front.
My husband was driving while I was in the passenger seat.
The future groom and his future bride were in the car with us.
My son, the soon-to-be husband, was sitting next to the young woman who will be his wife.

We were searching for places to have their rehearsal dinner.
We had reservations for lunch, followed by appointments at a few locations.
It was so nice to talk with them one-on-one.
It is so wonderful to hear their dreams.

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My daughter has a dear friend from college here for most of the week.
It is delightful to watch their friendship.
Each girl is in the same major: digital media.
Each is creative and artistic; each loves the Lord.

We have things planned during the day.
The evenings are theirs to spend time with some of my daughter’s friends.
Or perhaps go to a wonderful ice cream shop nearby.
The evenings are theirs.

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