“There has to be another way.”
A young bride, dressed in a magnificent array of wedding
finery, stood anxiously outside the mahogany doors of the chapel. She was
dressed in pure white, from the dainty heeled shoe that occasionally peeked from
under the abundant folds of the satin gown, to the half-blown rose placed among
her chestnut tresses surrounded with a delicate spray of baby’s-breath. In her
hand she held a solitary white rose, its faultless form and color symbolizing
the innocence of the hand and heart that held it. But behind that glad light in
her large hazel eyes was a look of earnest concern.
“There has to be another way,” she repeated quietly with a
small shake of her head.
“I’m afraid not,” an usher said. “In order to provide such a
stunning view, the building was placed with its back against the edge of the
cliff. The only way to access the back of the chapel is first to enter through
these front doors, cross in front of the altar, and pass through the aisle.”
“But the groom is already inside,” the mother of the bride
objected. “He would see her as she walked through. We can’t have that.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. But there is no other choice.”
The mother let out a sigh and turned to her daughter.
Reaching forward and gently stroking a wavy lock she whispered, “I’m afraid
this is the way it has to be, sweetheart. In the end it won’t really matter
that much.”
“Oh but it will,” the bride asserted. “I’ve waited so long
for that moment when I walk down the aisle and he sees me for the first time. Until
that moment, my beauty, my heart, and my innocence will have been shaded and
hidden from him. Oh mother, only when a woman is ready to pledge before God her
life and her very being to one man should her full beauty be revealed. Until that
moment he has no right to look on her. That is why I could not bear for him to
see me before our time. I want to save that moment. I want to see his face, his
eyes during that first glimpse of my unveiled beauty. It is important to me…
and to him,” she added with dewy,
dropped lashes.
“There is another
way,” a serious voice said slowly after a pause. It belonged to another, older
usher whom the bride and her mother had never seen before. “There is another way, but it is one few brides
take. For many look down upon it, calling it strange and unnecessary.” He
paused, as though testing the willingness of the bride. The earnest entreaty
and newfound hope in her eyes urged him to continue. “There is a path which reaches
the back door, but it first takes you down the hill, across the chasm floor,
and straight up the face of the cliff. It is a long journey, tiring and
extremely difficult. Many times you will be tempted to go back as the sun
reaches its height and showers its burning rays upon your face, as your friends
and family call you “fool!” and forsake you, and as your limbs tire from the
never-ending strain of battle. But,” he said after another pause, “if you
complete the journey, you will enter through the back doors, standing afore the
altar where your future husband waits. You will have saved the revealing of
your beauty for that one moment. Is this what you seek?”
“Yes,” answered the bride, “oh yes!”
“Then there is the path,” he said, pointing to a woodland trail
to the right of the chapel. The way looked easy enough, slanting downward
slightly but not to the point of difficulty, so the young bride walked briskly
toward it. But in reaching the path, she also reached a point on the hill that
enabled her to see into the chasm and view the side of the cliff she would
later have to climb. Her eyes widened in fear and doubt began to creep into her
heart. For the chasm was so deep she could not see its bottom, only hear a
distant howl rising from its center. The cliff was as high as the chasm was
deep, with sharp, angry stones jutting up and threatening every side. Questions
tiptoed into her mind. Was she strong enough to complete the journey? Would
anyone dare stay by her side all the way? What if she fell only steps from the
chapel door? What if along the way her face was dirtied or her dress torn,
taking away from the beauty she was so anxious to guard?
Without taking her eyes from the awful path she whispered to
the usher the most important question in her mind… “Is it worth it?
He took her hand, turning her gaze from the cliff and back
to the path saying, “It will be worth it. Trust me; it is well worth the fight…
and it is well worth the wait.”
To be continued...
