Yesterday afternoon my choir sang at a wedding. We didn’t know the bride and groom at all, but it was still such a lovely experience. I have sung for several weddings and they always affect me the same way. I love the readings, the vows and the advice from the vicar, and seeing the emotion on the faces of the bride and groom, and their families.

This wedding had the most beautiful flowers, and it was interesting as some of the readings were in Portugese. I have never knowingly heard Portugese spoken before, and I didn’t understand a word of it!

It was interesting to watch the other choir members as the ceremony was conducted, particularly during the vows. There were some, particularly girls, who like me were smiling and watching the couple. There were others who were less interested – and one girl who fell asleep during the vicar’s address, which I have to admit I was unimpressed by. I think attending a wedding speaks to the part of my heart which longs to be married and hopes for a church wedding for myself some day. The catch in the bride’s voice as she said her vows told me that she was overwhelmed with feeling on a day she will remember for the rest of her life.

The hymn choices were fairly usual; we were amused by the choice of Jerusalem as a final hymn for a Latin American wedding, but it is a good uplifting hymn that most people know. We sang two lovely anthems and I was pleased that the congregation stayed quiet enough to hear them – often they chatter excitedly over the background noise of the choir.

In a couple of weeks I will be attending a friend’s wedding. It will be the first time I’ve attended a friend’s wedding: a few other friends have got married but I didn’t attend the service. I haven’t even met her fiance properly but I’m confident that he is the right person for her. They met at church, and my friend has an inspiring strength of faith. I know she has prayed over her decision and is ready to take the step of committing herself to him for life.

Now I am back in my own life, attempting to pack up my room and keep straight in my head which things need to go where. I find packing very hard to cope with; living a rather transient life which requires me to move out of the place I’ve called home for 8 months every year puts a strain on my sense of security. As much as I try to remind myself that the only security is in God, I can’t help feeling that I would be better able to focus on God’s security if I weren’t surrounded by cardboard boxes! Some day I will have my own home, and I think that will feel wonderful.