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11BeautybyScottRussellSandersBeautybyScottRussellSandersInmemory,IwaitbesideEvainthevestibuleofthechurchtoplaymybitpartasfatherofthebride.Shehooksahandonmyelbowwhilethreebridesmaidsfussoverher,fixingthegauzyveil,spreadingthelongivorytrainofhergown,tuckingintoherbunaloosestrandofhair,whichglowsthecolorofhoneyfilledwithsunlight.Clumsyinmyrentedpatentleathershoesandstiffblacktuxedo,Istandamongthesegorgeouswomenlikeacrowamongdoves.Irealizethey'regorgeousnotbecausetheycarrybouquetsorwearsilkdresses,butbecausethefestivalofmarriagehasslowedtimedownuntilanyfoolcanseetheirglory.Concernedthatwemightwalktoofast,aswedidinrehearsal,Evatriesinvaintoteachmeaglidingballetsteptouseasweprocessdowntheaisle.It'sreallysimple,Daddy,shesays,asIbotchitoverandover.IfearthatIwillstaggeralongbesidemyelegantdaughterlikeaveteranwoundedinforeignwars.Eva,meanwhile,seemsblissfullyconfident,notonlyofbeingabletowalkgracefully,asshecoulddoinhersleep,butofstandingbeforethiscongregationandsolemnlypromisingtoshareherlifewithMatthewAllen,themanwhowaitsinthinlydisguisedturmoilatthefarendoftheaisle.Poisedonthedais,wearingablackministerialrobeandawhitestole,isthegoodfriendwhomEvaandIknowbestasourguideoncanoetripsthroughtheBoundaryWaters.Hegrinssobroadlythathisfullcheekspushupagainsttheroundrimsofhisspectacles.There'sonehappypreacher,Evasays.Hebelievesinmarriage,Ireply.SodoI.Remember,MattandIfiguredthatbetweenyouandMomandhisfolks,ourparentshavebeenmarriedfifty-eightyears.Evaletsgoofmyarmtoliftahandtoherthroat,touchingthestringofpearlsshehasborrowedfrommyownbride,Ruth,towhomI'vebeenmarriedthirtyyears.Lovemaylast,Iwanttosay,butdon't,feelingunsureofmyvoice.Evareturnsherfreehandtomyarmandtightenshergrip.Thearmsheholdsismyleftone,closeagainstmyracingheart.Inherownleftarmshebalancesagreatsheafofflowers--daisiesandlilies,marigolds,snapdragons,beebalm,feverfew--andinherlefthandsheholdsaBelgianlacehandkerchief,alsoborrowedfromRuth,incaseshecries.TheorganstrikesupBach'sJesu,JoyofMan'sDesiringforthebridesmaids'entrance,anddowntheaisletheyskim,thosegorgeouswomeninmidnightblue.Overawedbythecrowd,theflowergirlshangbackuntiltheirmothernudgesthemalong,andthentheydashandskip,carryingtheirfrondsofflowerslikespears.Finally,onlythebrideandthefatherofthebrideremaininthevestibule.Evawhispers,Remember,now,don'twalktoofast.ButhowcanIwalkslowlywhilemyheartraces?I'veforgottentheballetstepshetriedtoshowme.IwanteventstopausesoIcanpracticethestep,sowecangocanoeingoncemoreinthewilderness,sowecansitonaboulderbytheseaandtalkoverlife'smysteries,soIcanmakeuptomydarlingforanythingshemayhavelackedinhergirlhood.Buteventsdonotpause.TheorgansoundsthefirstfewbarsofPurcell'sTrumpetVoluntary,ourcuetoshowourselves.Wemoveintotheopendoorway,and200facesturntheirliteyesonus.Evatiltsherfaceupatme,quirksthecornersofherlipsintoatightsmile,andsays,Herewego,Daddy.Andso,liftingourfeetinunison,wego.TheweddingtookplaceinBloomington,Indiana,hometownforMatthewaswellasEva,onasizzlingSaturdayinJuly.NowinearlySeptember,Icansummonuphundredsofdetailsfromthatradiantday,butonthedayitselfIwasawareonlyofasurpassingjoy.Theglowofhappinesshadtocoolbeforeitwouldcrystallizeintomemory.Pardonmycosmicmetaphor,butIcan'thelpthinkingofthephysicists'claimthat,ifwetracetheuniversebacktoitsoriginsintheBigBang,wefindthemultiplicityofthingsfusingintogreaterandgreatersimplicity,untilatthemomentofcreationitselfthereisonlypureundifferentiatedenergy.Withoutbeingabletochecktheirequations,Ithinkthephysicistsareright.Ibelievetheenergytheyspeakofisholy,bywhichImeanitistheclosestwecancomewithourinstrumentstomeasuringthestrengthofGod.Ialsobelievethisprimalenergycontinuestofeedus,directlythroughthegoodsofcreation,andindirectlythroughtheexperienceofbeauty.ThethrillofbeautyiswhatentrancedmeasIstoodwithEva'shandhookedovermyarmwhiletheweddingmarchplayed,asitentrancesmeontheseSeptembernightswhenIwalkoverdewygrassamongthesongsofcricketsandstareattheMilkyWay.We'reseeingtheMilkyWay,andeveryotherdenizenofthesky,farmoreclearlythesedaysthankstothesharpeyesoftheHubbleSpaceTelescope,asitorbitsoutbeyondtheblurofEarth'satmosphere.Fromdatabeameddownbythetelescope,forexample,IsummonontomycomputerscreenanimageofJupiterwrappedinitsbandsofcloudlikeaballofheatheryyarn.ThenIcalluptheCat'sEyeNebula,incandescentswirlsofredloopedaroundthegleamofaheliumstar,foralltheworldliketheburningirisofatiger.Thisfierceglarebeganitsjourneytowardearth3,000yearsago,aboutthetimemyAssyrianancestorswereintheirprime.Pushingbackdeeperintime,IsummonontomyscreentheEagleNebula,7,000light-yearsaway,atrioofdustcloudslikerearinghorses,theirdarkbodiesscintillatingwiththesparksofnewbornstars.Istudyimagesofquasarsgivingbirthtogalaxies,galaxieswhirlingintheshapesofpinwheels,supernovasringedbystrandsofluminousdebris,andallthewhileI'mdelvingbacktowardthatutterbeginningwhenyouandIandmydaughterandhernewhusbandandthebrightheavenlyhostwerejoinedintheoriginalburstoflight.OnthesecoolSeptembermornings,I'vebeenporingovertwosetsofphotographs,thosefromdeepspaceandthosefromEva'swedding,tryingtofigureoutwhys