Over the weekend Joel and I were groomsman and bridesmaid (respectively) in his sister's wedding. Marybeth is a few years younger than Joel but she's got the special position of being the eldest of the four sisters. There are seven total.

One of the first things I noticed about Marybeth was her hand-written quotes in the bathroom, beseeching the reader to be faithful and diligent servants of God. It was clear those pieces of paper had been there for some time - the edges were curling and they were water-stained. It was also clear that Marybeth was devoted to her path, to what really matters to her. As I am with the rest of her family, I'm inspired by her faithfulness. This post is for her. The photos are the ones I was able to snap (I joked toLizelle, the official photographerwho flew in from South Africa for this event! - that I was her sixth shooter).

Dear MB,

You were, of course, a beautiful bride this weekend. But that isn't what I remember most about your wedding.

I remember the music.

As you and your party applied (the tiniest amounts!) of makeup in the bridal party room, a portable speaker system blasted tinny beats. Your attendants hummed along to hip hop while applying lilac eyeshadow, poking yellow lilies into braids. You walked down the aisle to a song your moments-later husband composed. And the most touching moment of the whole day for me - when you lifted your left hand in worship - during song. You closed your eyes slightly and sang with your might (while I sang "watermelon, watermelon." But nobody needs to know I didn't know the lyrics, right?).

Then, as we arrived at the reception we heard Italian opera. The bass reverberated the room, stopping just short of rattling your champagne glasses. You can't learn to love music like that. You can learn to appreciate it, but I know you love it.

I know because I watch you teach seven-year-olds how to play piano. Your patience stuns me. How can you take him through the scales and hear him play that note incorrectly again? But you do. I think your family one day will be a spectacular traveling marching band.

There was the clinking of dinner knives on glasses of iced tea, signaling it was time for you to kiss your newly minted husband. There was opera on top of opera (your brother quickly fixed that glitch) during the slideshow of your photo memories. And then there was dancing. I saw babies dancing. And grandparents dancing.

I loved the music - all the tracks that played out on your wedding day. But what I noticed most was what happened after your DJ announced the music was ending. The sighs and whimpers that followed made me chuckle. Everyone wanted to keep dancing. The music ended and you held hands with your guy and waved to us as you stepped into the darkness. Your mother wept quietly.

The only sound I heard as you two departed was the sound of the sprinklers which had started their nightly watering. May the music always play like that for you. And may the space in between the notes, and what you discover there, reverberate for you each day.

PS: I think you might appreciate this little a cappella group out of Slovenia.

 Can't you see the joy on their faces? That's what I see in yours.