The morning before my husband, Jesse, proposed, I was awoken by a startling dream. In the dream, I stood on a riverbank with raging waters flowing past me. A large, scary wolf stood on the opposite bank, snarling and frustrated that it could not cross the river to get to me. Just as Moses’s face shone after spending time in the presence of God, my mind glowed with the supernatural. I knew the dream held a message for me in it. Since I had no major plans for the day (at least that I knew of), I sat in my light-filled breakfast nook, clutching my coffee mug with an unsettled mind bent on prayer. I couldn’t grasp the significance of the dream.

Soon after, I tucked away the dream into my heart. It didn’t seem relevant in light of the whirlwind that began when Jesse showed up at my door with flowers and whisked me away to nearby Whatcom Falls Park. A canvas photo print of that day still hangs above our fireplace four years later. A canopy of trees and ferns surround us as the waters below sweep past us. Jesse’s guitar lies in its case with the lid wide open as if beckoning us to sing, sing, sing. The photo shows us in a celebratory hug—my boots off the ground and my face hidden in Jesse’s shoulder. Joy, joy, joy.

Megan Mosback Photography

Two weeks after the proposal, my mom received the heavy diagnosis of stage four lung cancer. She only had months left to live. We had gone wedding dress shopping days before, and I didn’t know it would be the last time I’d see her jump for joy. My wedding plans felt like they were in danger of being torn to shreds, held captive by a beast.

In the wake of my Mom’s devastating diagnosis, the dream I’d had started to make sense to me. There would be sorrow; there would be grieving, but the enemy would never cross the bank of living water. He would not be victorious. God would be my good shepherd and my protector.

John 10:11−12 (esv): “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. He who is a hired hand and not a shepherd, who does not own the sheep, sees the wolf coming and leaves the sheep and flees, and the wolf snatches them and scatters them.”

Jesus knows every hair on my head and every tear that I cry. He plans my steps before I take them. That’s the kind of planner I need beside me.

God is the ultimate wedding planner. He cares deeply about our celebrations and weddings. Jesus’s first miracle was changing the water into wine at the wedding at Cana.

His plan since the beginning is to reconcile all things to himself. In Him and through Him are all things, which I would argue makes him the most qualified to have the final word.

God gives us perspective in the process. He is slow to anger and abounding in love, and his plans are for us and not against us. Why is it so painful to give those plans up?

How many of us have faced down the big, bad wolf—situations too devastating and complicated to handle with your own strength? Stared down a diagnosis? A loss? Or a heartbreak?

What do we trust in when our own moments of joy and celebration are punctured by sorrow and loss? Or more importantly, who do we trust in?

Megan Mosback Photography

Jesse and I were married at my hometown church months before my mother’s memorial service would be held there.

We celebrated our wedding, even as the wolf snarled close by. As much as it pains me that our marriage took place in the shadow of the wolf, I know that God’s planning a wedding someday that will be in a place free from death, pain, and sorrow.

God’s wedding banquet at the end of all things cannot be shaken. He is the ultimate wedding planner, you see. Just not the one you’d expect.

“Hallelujah!
For the Lord our God
the Almighty reigns.
Let us rejoice and exult
and give him the glory,
for the marriage of the Lamb has come,
and his Bride has made herself ready.”

Revelation 16:6−9 esv