my best friend's wedding

This past weekend my best friend got married. There’s something magical, delightful and gleefully fulfilling about getting to witness a union so shaped and molded by God’s hands that it could be labeled a masterpiece before ‘I do’s’ are even spoken.  Maybe it was the sunflowers bursting out of our bouquets, the gentle breeze that danced Katie’s veil in rhythmic motion, or the giddy, school-kid love of two people desperate to share life together. Whatever ‘it’ was, it was good. It was a little slice of heaven wrapped in each embrace and every banana cupcake. It was a taste of eternal in toasted, sparkling champagne. It was a glimpse of everlasting as guests of every age danced and laughed well into the night. We celebrated love and believed deeply in its force and freedom because of the bride and groom in front of us.

Katie glowed with an effortless kind of ease. She smiled bigger than I had ever seen her smile before and cherished her day in pure beauty and grace. Although there were countless memories written in permanent marker in my mind, there were those special, extraordinary moments that, if captured on film, would launch Kodak’s marketing department into ‘kodak moment’ advertising nirvana well into the next decade.  Still, as I sorted through the snapshots of Katie walking with her dad, Alex dancing with Katie’s four-foot-nine little Nanni, Emily tearing (as in cry) up during our speech, and my sister tearing (as in bust a move) up the dance floor, there was one incredibly special moment that I will hold captive as I look back on this weekend for the rest of my life.

If you know Katie Blackburn at all, chances are you’ve gotten Starbucks with her. That’s what she does, and what other people do with Katie. So the fact that I got to go with my best friend to Starbucks the morning of her wedding may not seem like such a big deal. But, I have to thank our venti soy chai latte and our grande iced coffee with sugar-free vanilla and room for being the means to the conversation that got to take place that morning. We sat in the Pleasanton Starbucks between one young man ferociously typing on his computer (perhaps a Berkley law student) and another older gentleman enjoying his morning paper as much as his morning scone. Two girls in their twenties, giddy with anticipation of what the day would bring, sat and chatted for a bit. We talked through the day, finalized some last-minute planning, and ended each new thought with… “Wow…I can’t believe it’s here.”

 Katie would well up with a few tears and then explain herself and her tears in a way that deemed them silly or inappropriate.  For the record, the only thing silly when it comes to crying in front of Kristin Stockfisch is an explanation of tears. If one only knew the water works produced by this 6 ft blonde, no future friend (or complete stranger for that matter) would ever feel the need to explain his/her flooded emotion. So on her wedding day, I got to cry a little with my friend. Not because she was scared, anxious, or unprepared but because she was grateful. Katie sat in her pj’s with her hair up and her flip flops on and cried because in God’s rich grace and renewing mercy she sat overwhelmed by his love. She shook her head looked off in the distance and just couldn’t feel like she deserved the love she felt from her family, her friends, and ultimately her groom-to-be.

There are a lot of things I love about my friend. But on August 13^th I got to look her in the eye and tell her how much I love her humility. If only I could approach every day with the kind of undeserving reverence that Katie had that morning, I might finally understand what this grace thing is all about. It’s only in the moments when we feel significantly low in the face of a perfect God that he pours out his undying love on us in a way that takes us higher than any substitute this world might offer. Katie soaked in a heavenly dose of God’s grace that day and it humbled my heart to get to with her.

So Katie, thanks for making the real thing the real thing on a day that is supposed to be centered around ‘you.’ Thanks for crying because of how undeservedly grateful you felt, and thanks for reminding me that the shadow of the cross is the only place where we can be equally moved and rested in the presence of saving grace.

To your forever love as Mrs. Blackburn,

cheers.