Chapel Journal: Behind the Name
“So I have looked for You in the sanctuary, to see Your power and Your glory.” -Psalm 63:2
“This little chapel is the very essence of the word ‘sanctuary’: a place to take refuge, pray, and be sheltered under His wing.”
If I were to choose an image that symbolizes perfect peace, it would be a little chapel nestled high in the mountains, surrounded by wildflowers. When I am feeling stressed or afraid, I often imagine this dream place. My chapel is sweet, gentle, charming, and graceful. I imagine walking up a meadow path, catching first a glimpse of its steeple, then its stained-glass windows, and at last the whole miracle of it: the chapel glowing in morning light. This little chapel is the very essence of the word ‘sanctuary’: a place to take refuge, pray, and be sheltered under His wing.
Because it is my dream chapel, my personal vision of peace, this chapel is painted pink. A pink that has aged gracefully, over hundreds of years. Spring flowers grace the pink building with pastel colors, and in winter, the chapel gives the snow-covered scene its only color. Just imagine, a pale pink chapel in the presence of all that unvaried snow and white. A sight so unexpected, so miraculous, like a flower blooming under a crust of ice and snow. Autumn leaves lend gold and burnished colors to the aged pink walls, and summer days bathe it in endless light, as long evenings fill the soul with a sense of limitlessness. Seasoned and dignified, the chapel stands firm as seasons fade, offering hope that abides.
When I came up with the idea for this journal, I immediately reached out to Emily Mayne, an exquisitely talented artist and friend. Emily’s artwork has been a companion for so many of my creative endeavors, and with each new piece, I am overcome by the delicacy and lightness of her touch. I trusted no one else to interpret this dear chapel for me. As we prepared, I told Emily I always imagined the chapel in the Swiss Alps. I sent photos of Swiss chapels and even chalets, sweet countryside homes with tidy shutters, thatched roofs, wooden balconies, and window-boxes overflowing with flowers. While a chapel should have a sense of grandeur, I hoped mine also would have a certain storybook charm. Like an alpine home with balcony flowers and a bright garden where children run free (and, presumably, bunnies burrow under the lettuce patch).
The Swiss architecture and setting were undoubtedly inspired by my years in Vail, with its alpine-style village, chalets, and street corners and window-boxes brimming with flowers. Vail was the very heart of my childhood. I remember being in love with a certain house by the river: a chalet with flowers and vines painted on its exterior. There were flowers painted on shutters, above doorways, and across stucco walls. The flower house was everything, to me: a dream of a place situated alongside a creek which, if followed past a certain point, led to an alpine botanical garden. For Chapel, I certainly borrowed from this place and the reveries it inspired. The lush green summer evenings that drew me out evening walks past the home, where I’d imagine what it would be like to someday live there, tend its flowers, and cook dinner with the windows open to sound of the river and the birds. My Chapel would need to have all these intangibles: both childhood and present-day dreams of beauty.
“An answered prayer. Her artwork was and is that, for me.”
Drawing from these early memories and alpine villages, from a love of Swiss meadows and architecture, Emily created the Chapel. A chapel as charming as the flower house, and as angelic as a chapel should be. It is always surreal to pray for and dream of something and, after many years, receive it. An answered prayer. Her artwork was and is that, for me.
When I received the Chapel venue painting, I was struck by what at a beautiful place it would be to marry. I imagine a bride waiting behind its doors, her veil and train floating for yards behind her. She cradles a bouquet of sweet peas-- sweet, ruffled flowers that tremble a bit in her shaking hands—for she is overcome with anticipation and joy. A groom looks longingly at the double doors, waiting for a glimpse of his bride. I envision the newly married couple kissing on the chapel’s steps. Their tender promises to one another cause angels to fold their wings and look down on the scene with love.
Of course, this is a journal devoted to weddings and so the name pays homage to the place where couples marry. When I first had the dream of writing a wedding blog, I knew that my faith would be essential. I cannot view weddings as separate from marriages, and I believe marriage has the potential to be an instrument of holiness as well as a lifelong covenant. I dreamed of offering a new approach to wedding planning: one that felt peaceful and prayerful. Was there a way to navigate weddings in a way that wasn’t stressful and all-consuming? Was it possible to view this season as one with potential to honor God and others?
“I believe in the creation of a wedding that’s not only visually beautiful, but suffused with the light of loveliness, prayerfulness, and faithfulness.”
I believe so—I believe in offering an approach to wedding planning that’s less about beautiful flowers and gowns and décor, even if it embraces those things as an avenue to expression. I believe in the creation of a wedding that’s not only visually beautiful, but suffused with the light of loveliness, prayerfulness, and faithfulness. Chapel would look beyond the material aspects of a wedding to dwell upon the more formidable task of creating a marriage and a union. No word could better embody the journal’s focus—on weddings, on faith—than Chapel.
Chapel has a deeper, personal meaning to me. I love the word, and I love it as a name. One day, if I am blessed with a daughter, I imagine her name will be Chapel. It’s so natural, for me: when I think of the word ‘chapel,’ one of the words that immediately comes to mind is ‘daughter.’ I imagine holding her hand on wildflower walks and picking daisies to put in our sunhats or woven baskets. I imagine praying next to her at bedtime and come morning, placing a miniature bouquet in her lunchbox. Chapel is my dream in more than one way. A dream so precious, so full of eternal love, I can hardly articulate it.
While Chapel is an idyllic vision, I am not unaware of the trials and pain, suffering and delays, that lead us to our answered prayers. A life of faith—and a marriage, for that matter—is not merely a walk through the wildflowers. To imply so would be terribly naïve. The way to anything worth having (whether a faith, dream, or a marriage that overcomes) is narrow, steep, and rife with conflicts. “And it is in the atmosphere of conflict that faith finds its most fertile soil and grows most rapidly to maturity” like trees which, left unsheltered, are beaten ruthlessly by winds until they become grand in stature, and send down deep roots (From E.A. Kilbourne, Streams in the Desert). While I like to dwell on visions of beauty—like my dream of a peaceful chapel, or my desire to create beautiful weddings-- I never want to imply that beauty isn’t born of suffering and patience. The most precious things come to the one who has known great sorrow and fierce testing.
Above all, Chapel is lovingly and prayerfully dedicated to Christ, my Savior. However exquisitely beautiful my chapel is, it stands for something far more meaningful than images can convey.
My chapel artistically conveys the everlasting love, acceptance, and home I find in Him. If the image fills me with a longing for home, the longing, I realize, is truly for heaven, and my place in it. The chapel is not simply a physical building—however blessed—but symbolizes something too miraculous for words: salvation, and the reality of being safely and securely held in the Everlasting arms. Of a life lived by grace through faith; a life lived in my Savior’s presence. This, the miracle too deep, too dear, for words—the miracle that brings heaven to the human heart.
The chapel, the church, the bride of Christ, awaits a glimpse of her Beloved every day. He is her heart’s theme-- the object of all her efforts, her dreaming, and her longing. All the time, she waits for Him to come home. So, she fills her time thinking of Him; she longs to thank and bless Him. To lift her voice to Him in one more hymn and give to Him the precious fragrance of a faithful heart. To make her life a song of passionate praise, “a prayer to the God of my life” (Psalm 42:8). Chapel Journal is the song of my heart, and-- I pray-- a sweet fragrance, a hymn of praise, and an offering to the God of my life.
I pray that, on Chapel’s pages, readers may encounter and receive the grace that only God can offer. I hope they take refuge in the sheer visual beauty of the blog and are inspired to create and dream. And I pray that Chapel allows readers to see weddings and marriages in a holy light. May you discover here a new approach to planning: one that honors God and helps liberate you from unnecessary stress, so you are freed to enjoy this sacred season. This graceful approach cannot help but spill over into the lives of others, bringing positive benefits to couples, families, loved ones, vendors—all whose lives are touched by the grace you give. May you come to Chapel Journal and encounter artistry that uplifts, encouragement that strengthens, beauty that brings hope, faith that overcomes, grace that sustains, and praise that delights the heart of God.
