September 7th: Six years & counting!

September 7, 2002 was and is the greatest day of my life. Truly. Daryl and I visited the church where we were married six years ago. I love this church. I fell in love with it the minute we pulled up to the curb, let alone once we stepped inside its amazing sanctuary. And like most everything in my life, there's a great (in my opinion) story behind why we chose this particular church for our ceremony.

I had always wanted to get married in an old church. One with history. One that if the pews could speak they would tell of revivals and weddings and funerals and personal triumphs and personal defeats and great hymn writers and great sermons and spiritual uprisings and everydday tears of all kinds: love, joy, heartache, brokenness, rebirth, rededication, peace, etc. You get my point. After visiting England and Scotland, my desire only grew. Walking through grand Westminster Abbey to the small little churches in the Scottish hillsides, I was in awe and humbled. No matter the size of the church, I loved the old stone, the worn wood, the HUGE stain glass windows (even in the tiniest of churches!), the naves, the monasteries, but mostly the mere history and majesty of it all. I would often envision angels, as Frank Peretti so aptly writes, resting and recharging themselves for battle as the people of God prayed and sang, their wounds healing, wings spreading, and swords glowing as they prepared to fight satan's dominion. While I knew it was nearly inpossible, I would love to get married in a church just like this, I thought.

So when Daryl and I began talking marriage, I shared this desire of mine with him. And one evening we were sharing this with his dad as we relived our individual trips to the UK. His dad immediately asked Daryl, "Have you taken her to Zion Lutheran?" It turns out Daryl had helped his dad paint the sanctuary when he was younger...all 60+ feet high walls of it! I loved that this church already had a history with Daryl and his dad. Not that the history was anything like those of the churches in England or Scotland, but there was history nonetheless and it was on a personal level! (And as far as churches in our area go, I learned that this one was built in 1791, nearly destroyed by fire then rebuilt in the early 1800's--so there's some serious history within those stone walls.) So I jumped on the phone and arranged for us to visit with the pastor and tour the church. No description of this church could have prepared me for what I was about to see.

I was instantly taken.

And transported back to those beautiful churches in England and Scotland.

From the massive stone exterior and the beautiful sound of the bells chiming from the bell tower, to the three-story tall stained glass windows, the choir loft surrounding the sanctuary, the amazing pipe organ and the old wooden pews...this church could tell stories. And I wanted our story to be one of them.

And so it was.

Each year we visit Zion and relive the many memories of Our Day. I love hearing the sound of the trumpet and pipe organ revirbirating in my mind the way it did from the walls of that beautiful sanctuary that day, walking along the courtyard where we took many of our pictures, listening to the bells ringing, and thinking of all the history Daryl and I have written and shared together in the past six years, all that has transpired in our lives since that day.

If only the pews could talk...