Two musicians meet in a freshened sanctuary. He waits at the top of the aisle; she joins him after a quiet procession with Bride’s Dad along a rose-strewn aisle.Eighteen of their closest friends fan out across the platform in muted greens and classic black. Groom’s Dad sings a blessing from his perch at the piano. A choir from Azusa Pacific University intones a marvelous Eric Whitacre composition.
Ministers minister, vows exchange, a ring surprises.
Will you? We will. And they mean it.
On to Old Towne, where so many Arts+Crafts homes line quiet streets designed a century ago. Out behind the French Estate, Mishavonna will sing – overflowing with the same talent and poise we witnessed so remarkably on American Idol – sans Simon.
The back-lawn buffet group is all smiles, quiet laughter, meaningful toasts. Sliced beef and sauced chicken, poured wine and decanted cider, a towering cake topped by the kneeling Batman and his chosen Belle.
If life is not entirely a journey through the rose petals, at least it can be launched amid mentors and ministers, sisters and fathers, grandparents and aunts, cousins and roommates. Hard times may come, but on this enchanted evening we ward them away with full glasses and plentiful plates.
Jonathan and Rachyl, we are here for you. Not just tonight, but always.
