I'm wondering why it is that the life-moments most heavy with meaning are the ones that are hardest to reduce to mere words formed into sentences. I have no answer to that question. I only know that, now I'm here with a half hour carved out for stringing together some words about my lovely friend Carla's weekend wedding, I don't really know what to say. I want to say that she was a magical bride, radiant with a sort of 1940s beauty. At the same time, she was thoroughly herself, laughing and crying and expressing her emotion in facial expressions as much as in words. Her new husband Alastair ("with three A's") was so very obviously overjoyed to be joined to this precious girl for life, and his tears as he watched Carla walk down the aisle to Pachelbel's Canon (the piece Carla had always vowed she would be married by) sparked a landslide of tears from a whole bunch of us who were watching.
The ceremony was a joyful one, full of worship and also a sense of festivity at the new beginning awaiting Carla and Alastair. And the reception following was sparkling with fairytale touches -- swags of linen hung from the ceiling, tiny white lights, glowing candles, and a profusion of pink roses. It was an overwhelming of the nicest sort to be amongst so many of my beloved New South Wales friends at once. The day was too short and the hall too full of excellent people for there to be much time to really talk and catch up, but it was awesome just to see them and to be reminded anew of how good it is to be loved by people who have known you long enough to see your flaws and to realise that you really take far too long to reply to letters -- and yet continue to be loving and kind and super all the same.
So, since I can't explain any of that in words sufficiently elegant, I'll instead point you to some pictures of the special day: Bethany's, Rachael's, and the wedding photographer's, all of whom got some gorgeous shots.