When Love Is Woven by Hand
Preparing My Heart for My Son’s Handfasting Ceremony
Scripture Focus
“Let all that you do be done in love.”
1 Corinthians 16:14 (NRSVUE)
Daily Devotional
In just one month, I will stand before my son, Christopher, and his fiancée, Sarah, as both his mother and their officiant.
That thought still takes my breath away.
As a minister in the office of Priest, I have had the privilege of participating in many sacred moments throughout the years. Yet this one feels different. This time, I won’t simply be witnessing a covenant of love, I will be inviting the people gathered to witness my own son’s handfasting as he and Sarah begin the next chapter of their lives together.
Preparing for this ceremony has become much more than writing a message or rehearsing the order of service.
It has become a journey of preparing my own heart.
Over the past several months, my hands have rarely been still. I braided their handfasting cord strand by strand; created the table cards; hand-painted olive branches onto a vintage window frame that will display the seating chart; decorated the card box; prepared seed packets for each guest; and now my final project is designing a shadow box to preserve the memories of this beautiful day.
Every project has been handmade.
Every brushstroke has carried a prayer.
Every knot has reminded me that love is built one choice at a time.
As I worked, I often found myself praying for Christopher and Sarah, not only for a beautiful wedding day but also for a marriage filled with grace, patience, forgiveness, laughter, and an unwavering commitment to walk beside one another through every season life brings.
Then life reminded us that joy and sorrow often arrive hand in hand.
On July 4, Sarah’s mom passed away.
Our family shifted from preparing for a wedding to preparing for a funeral. Plans paused as grief took its place. There were tears, difficult conversations, and the heartbreaking reality that someone so deeply loved would not be physically present on the wedding day we had all been anticipating.
The wedding preparations didn’t stop.
Neither did the grieving.
Both have continued, side by side.
That has taught me something I wasn’t expecting.
God doesn’t ask us to choose between mourning and celebrating.
Sometimes, He gently teaches us how to carry both.
A Cord That Tells a Story
The handfasting cord was one of the first things I made.
As I carefully braided each strand together, I couldn’t help thinking about what it represents.
Each cord begins as separate strands.
Each has its own strength, colour, and purpose.
Only when they are woven together do they become something stronger than they could ever be alone.
Marriage is much the same.
Christopher and Sarah will not lose themselves when they become husband and wife. Instead, they will bring together their unique personalities, experiences, hopes, dreams, and even their wounds to create something stronger through God’s love.
As my fingers worked the cord, my prayers became simple.
“Lord, help them always choose kindness.”
“Help them forgive quickly.”
“Help them laugh often.”
“Help them remember that love is something we choose every single day.”
The cord became far more than part of the ceremony.
It became a prayer woven by hand.
Ministry Looks Different Than I Expected
After Sarah’s mom passed away, Christopher and Sarah suddenly had responsibilities no young couple wants to face while preparing for their wedding.
My husband and I were able to help by caring for our grandchildren, Luna and Emmett.
Our home quickly filled with toys on the living room floor, bedtime stories, little footsteps racing through the hallway, early morning cartoons, and plenty of hugs.
There were moments of laughter mixed with moments of sadness.
Watching the children play reminded me that even in the middle of grief, life continues to unfold.
Those days also reminded me that ministry isn’t confined to a sanctuary.
Sometimes ministry is making pancakes before little ones wake up.
Sometimes it’s reading one more bedtime story.
Sometimes it’s rocking a child who misses Mom and Dad while they attend a funeral or comfort family members.
Sometimes it’s simply creating a safe place where children can feel loved while their parents carry burdens that feel impossibly heavy.
As I cared for Luna and Emmett, I realized I was preparing for the wedding in another way.
Not by checking another task off my list.
But by living the very covenant love I would soon be speaking about.
The Beauty of Handmade Things
None of the things I’ve made are perfect.
If you look closely, you’ll probably notice tiny imperfections in the painted leaves.
The handfasting cord isn’t woven by a machine.
Every brushstroke, every knot, every ribbon was placed by hand.
Years ago, I might have worried about those imperfections.
Now I see them differently.
They remind me that love has fingerprints.
The things made with the greatest care are rarely flawless.
Neither are people.
Neither are families.
Neither are marriages.
God has never asked us to become perfect before He can use us.
He simply asks us to offer what we have with willing hearts.
Perhaps that’s why handmade gifts mean so much.
They quietly say,
“I gave you my time.”
“I thought about you while I made this.”
“You mattered enough for me to create something just for you.”
That feels very much like God’s love for us.
Preparing to Speak the Blessing
As the wedding day draws closer, I’ve been praying over every word I will speak during the ceremony.
Not because I want the ceremony to be perfect.
But because I want Christopher and Sarah to know that every blessing spoken over them comes from a heart that loves them deeply.
I also know that joy will not be the only emotion in the room.
There will be an empty place where Sarah’s mom should have been.
Her absence will be felt.
Love doesn’t disappear when someone dies.
It continues in memories.
In lessons taught.
In traditions passed on.
In the people whose lives have been forever shaped by that love.
As I stand before Christopher and Sarah, I hope to honour both the joy of new beginnings and the love that continues beyond loss.
Because both are sacred.
The Final Project
The last project waiting for me is the shadow box.
It will eventually hold the handfasting cord, perhaps a dried flower, part of the invitation, maybe one of the seed packets, and other small reminders from the wedding day.
But as I think about filling it, I realize the most meaningful memories won’t fit behind glass.
It won’t hold the quiet prayers whispered while painting leaves late into the evening.
It won’t hold the laughter of Luna and Emmett echoing through our home.
It won’t hold the tears shed after saying goodbye to Sarah’s mom.
It won’t hold the deep conversations around the dining room table.
It won’t hold the peace that came each time I remembered God was walking beside us.
Those memories don’t need preserving in wood and glass.
They have already found a place in my heart.
Personal Reflection
Preparing for this wedding has changed me.
I began by making decorations.
Somewhere along the way, God began making something within me.
He reminded me that sacred moments aren’t created by beautiful ceremonies alone.
They are created by countless quiet acts of love.
By caring for grandchildren.
By praying while painting.
By weaving hope into a handfasting cord.
By showing up when someone is grieving.
By trusting that God is present in both celebration and sorrow.
Perhaps that is the greatest gift this season has given me.
Not simply a wedding to look forward to.
But a deeper understanding that love is woven, one act of kindness at a time.
Key Notes for Daily Living
- God is present in both joyful celebrations and seasons of grief.
- The most meaningful acts of love are often the quiet ones no one else sees.
- Ministry happens wherever compassion is lived out.
- Handmade gifts remind us that love is expressed through time, care, and intention.
- God prepares our hearts long before He asks us to bless others.
- The strongest relationships are woven together through daily acts of grace.
Journaling Prompts
- What season is God preparing me for today?
- How have I experienced both joy and sorrow at the same time?
- What simple act of love could I offer someone this week?
- What memories would I place inside my own symbolic shadow box?
- Where have I seen God quietly working while my hands were busy?
Closing Prayer
Loving God,
Thank You for walking beside us through every season of life.
Thank You for being present in joyful celebrations and in heartbreaking moments of loss. As we continue preparing for Christopher and Sarah’s handfasting ceremony, surround them with Your peace and steadfast love.
Comfort our family as we continue to grieve the loss of Sarah’s mom. May Your presence bring healing where hearts still ache, and may the love she shared continue to live on in those who knew her.
Prepare my heart as I stand before them as both a mother and their officiant. Let the words I speak reflect Your grace, Your faithfulness, and Your unfailing love.
Help us all remember that love is not measured only by the grand moments of life, but by the quiet acts of service, compassion, forgiveness, and kindness that weave our lives together day by day.
In Christ’s name I pray.
Amen.
Call to Connect
Have you ever found yourself celebrating one milestone while grieving another?
Life rarely unfolds one emotion at a time. Yet God faithfully walks with us through every season, weaving hope into places where we never expected to find it.
If your journey has taught you something about God’s presence in both joy and sorrow, I invite you to share your story through our Guest Stories page on Healing Journey with Christ. Your experience may be the encouragement someone else needs today
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