Two families came together on Saturday, but by the end of the day, there was only one.
My daughter Nikki married her Darin, uniting a family from Illinois and another family from Washington state for all time.
Two women were joined in the bonds of mother-in-lawness, and brothers of the bride and groom suddenly found themselves with more brothers than they knew what to do with.
Two became one, joined in the natural light of a benevolent blue sky.
Rings were exchanged, and promises were made.
The mothers cried, as mothers usually do, and a proud father beamed as he escorted his daughter down the aisle.
The babies – the ultimate promise that life does go on – the babies fussed and were held in loving arms in the back of the church.
And with a prayer and a blessing, the two were joined.
Weddings are wonderful things. Despite a sobering divorce rate and shenanigans by stars who see marriage as just another publicity generator, we still choose to marry.
We lay aside our doubts and our fears, join hands and jump into the future together.
And if we’re very lucky, we do it with the support of our families.
When Dave and I were married so many years ago, we did it surrounded by the love of our families. Grandparents and aunts and uncles and assorted cousins came together to witness the marriage of one of their own, and found themselves both gaining a new member and being absorbed into another family.
It was the same last year when Amanda and Brian got married, and again on Saturday.
And at the end of the day, after too much good food and drink, when “Bohemian Rhapsody” came over the speakers, we joined together again. A brother of the bride and a brother of the groom, joined by the groom himself (and perhaps a random mother!) joined in a cacophony of sound and a little air guitar.
It maybe wasn’t the prettiest music ever made, but there was laughter and smiling faces and love in that room.
I can’t think of a better way to start a marriage.
Welcome to the family, Darin.
BCR Staff Writer Barb Kromphardt can be reached at email@example.com.