Courage of asking for forgiveness
LAST Saturday I went to one of the most wonderful weddings it’s ever been my privilege to attend.
It wasn’t extravagant: the flowers all picked by family and friends, the reception at the bride’s Mum’s home, the wedding party leaving the church in the bride’s brother’s hay trailer, pulled by his tractor.
Because their father was killed in a terrible accident in 2005, the stunning 30-year-old walked down the aisle on the arm of his best friend, followed by her seven-year-old twin sons (one in a wheelchair), and six gorgeous bridesmaids in off-thepeg dresses — one of them my daughter.
The handsome groom had to use his handkerchief more than once and I could barely see the beauty of it all through my tears.
The story behind that glorious summer wedding is far too complicated to describe — even if I didn’t think it too private. Suffice to say there have been many difficulties along the way to this union of two delightful people. Things have been very tough for the twins’ mum, even though she’s blessed with the most heroic and caring family.
We all took our places for the speeches. Outside the tent, the early evening sun gilded a perfect Wiltshire hillside — so that when the bride’s elder brother (his role to give the ‘father-ofthe-bride’ speech) said that ‘Dad sent the weather’ no atheist in that large gathering could have doubted it was true.
His words were funny and honest, not glossing over past difficulties. Many of you reading this will know of weddings where some anger remains, bitterness maybe. I heard of one the other day — and just wanted to bang heads together!
Weddings should be about love and reconciliation. The speeches sometimes make you wince, but this groom and his brother/best man gave the sweetest, most honest orations I’ve ever heard.
This miraculous wedding enshrined forgiveness at its heart. It restored my faith in human nature — bestowing the joyful promise that anything is possible.
BeL answers readers’ questions on emotional and relationship problems each week. Write to Bel Mooney, Daily Mail, 2 Derry Street, London W8 5tt, or email bel.mooney@ dailymail.co.uk. A pseudonym will be used if you wish. Bel reads all letters but regrets she cannot enter into personal correspondence.