The rain stopped, the sun came out just hours before the wedding. The bride and groom had met in the Peace Corps, and now, at a lake in New Hampshire, they joined their lives.
The bride was the flower girl in my wedding to her uncle. Twenty-two years later, I was honored to be the celebrant at their wedding. It was a fitting part of the circle of life to stand with them as they chose each other.
My stole was made by Roz Hannibal, who did an incredible job of designing, dying the material, and sewing a wonderful celebratory piece. The bride’s father has a green thumb, the garden and borders were incredible. He must have worked all the wet, cold spring and early summer to make them happen.