The setting was a field, the seating was haybales covered in quilts. Decorations included punched tincan lanterns and mason jars with candles inside and an old pair of cowboy boots with flowers in them.
The Bride's train had camo sewn into her white wedding gown, the Groom's suit vest was camo, and many of the guests wore a token bit of camoflauge, as well. The Bride's maids wore brown dresses and the Groom's men wore cowboy hats. Horseshoes were everywhere. One even plunked down on the meticulously crafted cake (without the artists' permission). There were gateposts and bandannas and bows made of twine. Even the handfasting cord was braided (by the bride herself) of camo colors. It was point-on country in all directions. One guest even brought a baby potbellied pig to run around the field and be cute.
Pagan was afoot, too. Passages from The Charge of the Goddess threaded throughout the wedding dissertation and vows. Many of the guests were Pagan, three of the four Bride's maids were Pagan, as was one of the three flower girls, (who pulled a small wagon in which the ring bearer rode, being, as yet, too young to walk). Mark, who was acting Priest/Preacher wore a brown poet shirt, mala beads, and jeans, and I wore a long brown dress and my pentacle, as I stepped in to tie the cord and place the broom. No one beyond the Pagans gathered there recognized a pentacle, so that didn't cause a stir. No one besides the Pagans knew the Charge of the Goddess, that was all just pretty words and didn't raise an eyebrow. The broom and handfasting cord, however, did. The place buzzed.
Mark explained that in old days, sometimes it was a while before the circuit-riding preacher made it to the outlying farms and hilltop homes. In the meantime, if two folks wanted to marry, they sometimes "jumped the broom" or "tied the knot". Most accepted this spin of the tale, and one even retold it to others. One elderly Baptist Grandma expected that was not quite true. I caught her frowning at me several times (it was I who carried in the broom for the couple to jump and who held the broom in the ceremony.)
After the vows had been said, the guests gathered around the tables with plates loaded with food. A local woman of the town* and friend of the groom's family had stepped in to dress the tables and place the food and be the "go-to" woman on questions of wedding etiquette. She knew which way the bride should walk and what the father of the bride must say when asked, "Who gives this woman?" and at what point it is customary to cut the cake. She knew a lot about church weddings, but didn't know anything about any broom or handfasting cord, and her head was spinning a bit. She decided to voice her concerns, without actually saying anything directly. (*This is the same town where a young mother's announcement of her baby's Wicanning in the local paper, prompted flyers in the local stores asking for prayers to help save this baby from Satan.)
While people took their places at their tables, the concerned impromptu wedding-planner stepped to the center front and said, "We're all Christians here." This made one Pagan at our table snort her lemonade, but we mostly smiled and shrugged it off. We'd heard it before how any religion is fine, ... as long as we all believe in Jesus. She said it was good to have God in your pocket and that this is what made those gathered here so happy, knowing where they'd spend eternity (which it seemed we were spending right now, listening to her while the food got cold). Having the God-subject covered, she went on to say that the city girl was country now (and so, acceptable, after all) and that while we all thought the place where the bride was raised was hellacious, she did allow that the bride's family seemed like good people.
After we'd all been thoroughly insulted, we reminded ourselves, this is the Bride and Groom's day and we shall be glad and rejoice in it.
As evening wound around, the men gathered with instruments, in the manner of a barn dance, fiddles and guitars, and a blend of old country and traditional hymns. Mark joined in, playing guitar, singing along with a hymn or two. The men stopped for intermission and the Bride and her ladies danced a dance they'd devised, humiliating the shy groom with gyrations in tune with "shake it, for me, girl." (Luke Bryan's song, Country Girl).
As the guests began to leave, two old women stood in the corner, in lively conversation with concerned (but somehow excited) frowns, and glanced, from time to time, to the bearer of the broom. But the feeling I got was that most of the people gatehred accepted there might be something here they didn't quite understand, but may be they had some rethinking to do. They knew the Bride and knew her to be a good person, even if she didn't have a God in her pocket.
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