08/01/2025
Still feeling the glow from yesterday. Mercy and Sam’s wedding was beautiful and full. Full of warmth, of joy, of that quiet magic their family always brings.
The laughter of children. The way everyone pitches in without being asked. Love that feels worn-in and steady.
I’ve known Mercy since she was little, and watching her grow into this calm, kind, radiant woman has been one of those slow gifts you don’t realize you’re lucky to witness… until you do.
She’s the youngest of twelve. The last to stand at the altar as her dad, who has done this so many times, officiated once more.
And like always, he told the story of meeting their mom… how she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen. How she still is.
But this time, with his last baby in front of him… you could feel it land different. Like time paused.
The sun filtered through the trees. Children wove between tree trunks and blew bubbles, light on their feet, dust rising behind them like breath. And the softest signs of Sam’s late mother showed up in the quietest corners.
It felt like love. Like legacy. Like heaven was just a little bit closer.
