Heaven breaking through

I went to the wedding of Carrie Lashbrook & Joshua Hodges last Sunday. My, but it was lovely. It was, as Fr. John so aptly described, a moment when heaven truly broke through this current reality. In that glimpse, the glass was not so very dark. Through it came a shimmering. And a quality of light. Maybe it was Carrie's white dress against the red carrpet, or the stained-glass-hued glow, or - yes, I'll say it - the light from the faces of these two young people. They were literally transformed - and transforming, like the icons that reveal a telling radiance in the curve of an arm, or the form of a leg. Here were the children of priests, products of loving, supportive, families. Here was no drama, no tension, no catty speculation as to the appropriate color of the dress.

The words of Fr. Mark were particularly poignant. He spoke about the wife not depending on her husband, and the husband not making the wife his heart's desire, for this is the road to utter disappoitment. Rather, he advised, we should make Christ these things, and all else will be as it should. He also said to not look back on the faults of the parents, but that these children should strive to be better, more fervent, more loving, and to pray for their parents, and for those who came before them.

Would that I had taken such advice in my own role as a wife.

In this life in Christ, it's never too late.

How does heaven break through me? Given that God is everywhere and fills all things, how do I so often and so thoroughly mange to conceal such a vast, wild, brilliant, pulsing reality? Surely the work involved in restoring translucence cannot be much greater than the effort needed to obscure it - indeed not, if the words of Jesus can only be realized: 'My yoke is easy, and My burden is light".