A labor of love

This was not my planned topic for today. The wonderful rains we’ve been having have saturated the ground and water seeped into a storage area in our basement. Among other things, I store some heirloom garments in there, thankfully all in Rubbermaid containers. I am blessed to own my aunt’s, my mother’s and my own wedding dresses, among other items. Of the three dresses, mine is by far the most spectacular. I opened all those boxes yesterday to ensure that no dampness had entered to encourage mold and mildew growth on these priceless textiles. I have documented the dress in my wedding scrapbook in a section called My Mother’s Masterpiece. I do not exaggerate. However, I had never thought to take close-ups of the details until yesterday.

Hubby, me, my parents, my sister-in-love, bridesmaid; and my brother, the head usher. The gore-shaped decoration on my skirt front is unfortunately mostly hidden in a fold. Mother made my dress, the bridesmaid’s, flower girl’s and one candelighter’s dresses, plus arranged all the bouquets and boutonnieres. I called her my one-woman wedding shop.

Close-up of the bridal couple. My dress was a combination of three different patterns, so Mother had to engineer its construction from a mishmash of instructions.

Since I had removed my dress from its box, I had to try it on. I’ve slimmed down quite a bit and wanted to see if I’d fit into it again. No problem. In fact, it’s a bit loose around the waist. I may be a bit thinner than I was then, but I certainly looked far more glamorous on my big day. Obviously, snapping my own photo in the bathroom mirror was not an easy task. Neither was trying to walk around our house with that long train. I had to gather up quite a bit of fabric in my hands to prevent dress from dragging on the floor. When I began returning dress to its box, I realized that I had never truly examined the dress and its details. I was blown away at the hours upon hours of meticulous, painstaking labor involved. My mother modeled excellence in her work. Looking at the dress forced me to choke back tears. I didn’t want them to fall on the dress.

This shows the bodice neckline, cross hatching and beading. Mother ordered a special sewing machine foot to do the cording, but it did not arrive until she had completed most of it. Until foot arrived, she had to sew one side of the cording, then another. I cannot imagine how tedious this must have been. This dress has LOTS of cording. (Mother tended to keep every shred of fabric she had left, so I found some of the leftover corded fabric in her fabric stash after she passed. I have preserved a piece of it in my wedding scrapbook.) I know that Grandma helped her daughter quite a bit in this project. Since Mother disliked hand sewing, Grandma probably sewed on many of the beads. They must have spent many companionable hours with Mother at her machines and Grandma with needle and thread.

This is the lace on the hem. Every scallop had to be stitched, a lot of rotating the fabric.

Skirt and train featured several of these corded, gore-shaped appliques trimmed with lace. Ribbons and fabric roses were the last embellishments added to the dress. These ribbons and roses tied my dress to the other ladies’s dresses, which were made from a fabric woven with a ribbons-and-roses motif. Until last evening, I had never noticed the lace leaf. Those were added just before the wedding. Grandma and my aunts sewed them on while we were decorating church and reception hall.

These roses are on bottom of the sleeve cap decoration.

This is the sleeve cap, covered with cording and beading.

Here are the sleeve roses close up. Note the lace surrounding that applique. I’d love to know just how many yards of cording and lace she used on this dress! What I do know is that this dress was designed and constructed from love. The materials and workmanship are just its expression. Saying thank you — even if I could — seems so inadequate.

Celebrating milestones

Getting from Easter to Flag Day takes a long time. We get sick of cute little chicks and baby bunnies, no matter how carefully we avoid tackiness. Our house is not allowed to look like a grade school classroom. Until last year, I didn’t know how to bridge that gap. Since we got married and graduated high school and college in May, why not get out the stuff from those milestone events in May? So I did.

This is our cake topper. My aunt and uncle used it, then my parents. When it came my turn, the couple was a little battered. I cleaned the topper and touched up its paint. I enjoyed using this precious connection to my heritage. The rose on lace is one of our pew decorations and the candles — but not the candlesticks — are from our wedding also. The silver tray, which is out all the time, was a wedding gift from our jeweler.

This table decoration is our unity candle set.

I was required to buy my first college graduation regalia — mortarboard, gown, hood and tassel — and I kept them. My hood hangs behind its degree. I used a half hitch to tie the associated tassel onto the diploma frame’s hangar. Unfortunately, Hubby has lost his college graduation tassel. He hung it on his rear view mirror and it disintegrated. Hubby’s picture with his parents at his graduation stands on the shelf. The back of his high school diploma is shown on the room divider above his college degree.

Dad graduated from college the same weekend I graduated kindergarten. He had gotten a three-year diploma the year before. My mother preserved his tassels and honor cords, while I kept my tassel, which she had made. She made my graduation gown and mortarboard, but those have long since been lost. I printed a copy of our picture together and matted it for the center of the shadowbox, then arranged the cords and tassels around the picture, using straight pins to hold them. I wish I could have made the picture an 8X10, but the slide was too degraded for that.

My high school diploma, tassel and senior picture stand on the room divider opposite Hubby’s. Unfortunately, we do not have his senior picture. I hung each tassel on the pillar next to the diploma. Each girl in my senior class received a real and crocheted rose at graduation. My crocheted rose sits next to my senior picture.

My mortarboards sit atop our china cabinet. Displaying an even number of objects is not good design, but I could not think what I should place between the mortarboards. I had to buy both high school and college mortarboards, but Hubby never had to buy any. Lucky him! Too bad we didn’t preserve my handmade kindergarten mortarboard, but one can’t have everything in this life!

Get me to the church on time!

In my wedding op order, I told everyone to be at the church by 11:32. Someone had told me that people pay more attention to odd times than they do to times like 11:30.

The bride did not follow her own instructions. I didn’t arrive the church until shortly before noon. This was not due to my choice! Bridesmaid Kelly and I were eating breakfast when suddenly everyone else vanished. They even took my car. We had no way to get to the church. And they did not return.

This was not a good thing. I had set this deadline and I should obey it! What kind of example was I setting? Oh my.

I paced up and down the dining room, fretting and complaining all the while. I was not a happy camper. How dare they take my car and strand me here? Had they forgotten me?

Kelly kept trying to calm me down, to soothe my uptight nerves, but I was having none of that.

I wanted to be at the church and I wanted to be there right this minute!

Dad got a rather angry welcome when he finally showed up in my Oldsmobile. Once we arrived the church, all was well. Even though Kelly and I were late, the wedding still started right on time. Whew!

Marking 15 years together

Fifteen years ago today, I walked down the aisle on my father’s arm toward the handsomest man I had ever seen.

I was so decked out that he hardly recognized me!

Pastor Steve insisted that we compose our own vows. I regret that because I cannot remember what we said. They are in my huge wedding scrapbook, so I can look them up when I want to.

The traditional ones are hard to improve on: “For better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do us part.”

We’ve had all those and we are still happily married. I am grateful every day that I married my wonderful, funny, handsome, charming, precious husband!

Most weddings have funny little bloopers. I didn’t want bloopers; I’d seen enough of those! So I made a 15-page operations order (“op order”) and sent it to everyone who had anything to do with the wedding. In consequence, all went well — except for one detail.

After the giving away portion of the ceremony, we were supposed to step forward so my train was not blocking the pew where my parents were seated. We forgot. Dad knew better than to step on my mother’s masterpiece of a wedding gown. He had to jump over the train. How I wish I had a picture of that!

I had told no one that I intended to kiss my daddy after he gave me away, but the photographer got that picture, for which I am very grateful.

The Murphy's Law wedding

George and Irene after their wedding. She’s holding the infamous throwing bouquet instead of the one she had planned to carry.

Going to a wedding, as we did Saturday, brings back memories of weddings past, our own and others.

All weddings are memorable occasions, but some are more memorable than others. In May 1989, I was the maid of honor in the most nightmare wedding of all I’ve had anything to do with. Murphy and his law disrupted the festivities repeatedly. I wondered if the mess would ever end.

It all started with the dresses. Irene’s roommate Julie was supposed to make them. She procrastinated and procrastinated. Finally, Irene and I agreed to confiscate the material and send it to my mother, who had agreed to make them for her. But Julie had taken the material somewhere else, foiling our plan.

She was still making them on the night of the rehearsal. The fit was atrocious. While Julie was fitting the gowns, Irene and I were in another room tossing her throwing bouquet back and forth between us.

Irene intended to sing to George, but the church had no way to play an accompaniment tape. So my stereo system was pressed into service. During rehearsal, all went well with my stereo.

Irene had asked the florist to put all the flowers into the refrigerator in the church’s basement. When we arrived that morning, we found the boutonnieres in the fridge, but nothing else. No corsages, no bride’s bouquet. (Bridesmaids’s bouquets were silk.) I asked the best man and groomsmen to search for the missing flowers while I started getting dressed. I helped Irene dress as well.

God bless the best man! He was a career Army sergeant in George’s ROTC cadre and was unflappable. He finally found the corsages in a Sunday school room at the back of the church. That was a relief, but Irene still did not have her bouquet. She was getting very stressed by all this. So was I, but I told her, “We will get through this and all will be well!”

What did I know?

With all these distractions, I had not finished dressing when the photographer started pounding on our door. He was demanding that we pose for pictures. He said that we were behind schedule. “She can’t be late for her own wedding!”

She was near tears at this. “I’ll deal with him,” I said.

I told him that the wedding could not start without the bride. When we were ready, we’d come out for whatever we could get done before the ceremony.

He was still persistent. I told him to leave us alone so we could finish dressing. He was mad, but I did not care.

Irene had to walk up the aisle with her throwing bouquet. Then disaster struck again. When we hit the stereo’s start button, nothing happened. I fiddled with the machine, but could not make anything work. The silence was deafening and I was mortally embarrassed. I tried everything I could think of to make it work, but nothing helped. Finally, it was apparent that the stereo was not going to work. We scratched the song and George went ahead with the poem he had written for his bride.

The rest of the ceremony continued without incident.

Once the wedding was over and the bride and groom had left for the reception, I threw everything we had left at the church into the back of my Escort. It had a hatchback and I had put down the back seats for maximum room. While we were gathering up our stuff, someone saw Irene’s bouquet. It had been placed on top of a cupboard in the same Sunday school room where the corsages had been. What was that florist thinking?

At least she got to carry it during the reception.

As planned, I caught the throwing bouquet. Julie was disappointed and angry. “You planned this! You wanted her to catch it and not me!” Well, she was right, but I did not see what was such a big deal. After all, I didn’t marry my Mr. Right until five years (and at least one more bouquet catch) later.

After George and Irene left for their wedding night, more stuff went into the back of my Escort. I went to their house, fell on the couch and could not move. Irene’s mom showed up, looking for her purse. I dragged myself off that couch and we looked in the back of my car. We had a hard time seeing anything in the dark. The porch light and car dome light weren’t bright enough to illuminate every detail.

She said she’d attend that church the next morning and look for her purse after the service.

I fell back onto the couch. I could not muster up enough energy even to remove my bridesmaid’s gown. I slept fully dressed for several hours.

George and Irene came home about 11 the next morning. They unwrapped their gifts, then left. I crashed again. About 45 minutes later, they called. Their car had broken down. Could I come get them so they could catch their train to their final honeymoon destination?

Of course I could. I picked them up at the repair place, then I drove them the hour to the train station.

When I arrived home again, I figured the wedding had finally ended.

Not so.

A few minutes later, Irene’s mom showed up again. She still could not find her purse! We looked in my car again, but saw no purse. I promised I’d mail it to her when/if I found it.

I went back in the house, thinking that surely I had to be finished with this wedding!

A few minutes later, she showed up again! “I just had to look one more time before I leave,” she said.

Finally we saw that blasted purse. It had fallen down between the seats and was just barely visible. She drove away satisfied. I breathed a deep sigh of relief and took a long nap.

Even with all those difficulties, I count this as a successful wedding. They are still married 20 years later. Happy 20th anniversary, George and Irene! I cannot believe that it has been that long.

He's got her, babe!

I have attended and been a part of so many weddings, but I doubt I’ve ever been to one that was so sweet and fun. (Well, our own excepted.)

In the “Who gives this woman” part of the wedding, Pastor Mike told Jake to say “I will” if he assented to the questions. Jake got rather ahead of schedule and said “I will!”

Pastor: “Not now, Jake!”

Pastor Mike also had to remind Leslie to hug her dad as he gave her away.

Once through the giving away part, the couple, pastor and attendants stepped up onto the platform, then the couple addressed the crowd. They asked us to honor the chief invited guest, Jesus Christ. Jake cited Matt. 18:20, “For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them” and we applauded the unseen Honored Guest.

The recessional was decidedly nontraditional: Sonny and Cher singing I Got You, Babe, a song that hit the charts before they were even born. They danced their way out of the church. It was so fun and so them!

Because Leslie is a sheriff’s deputy, she and Jake received a police escort to their reception, with a detour down Main Street. What a fun beginning to their married life!

Only Fools Rush In

We attended Leslie and Jake’s wedding Saturday. At the Bible study we all attend, I sang Going to the Chapel and Marilyn joined in, harmonizing around me. Leslie said she wanted us to sing that at her reception, so I printed off two copies of the lyrics. I like being prepared!

As Marilyn, Wendy and I were visiting, I told them that I had Only Fools Rush In stuck in my head and I could not push it out! So we started to sing the Elvis classic.

The wedding party was seated close enough to us that they could hear us singing, but not what we were singing.

“Are you singing?” Leslie asked. When told we were, she told us to get up and share! We first sang Going to the Chapel, then segued into Only Fools Rush In. I couldn’t believe that I was singing classic oldies with two of my friends in front of a crowd with almost no practice, but we apparently sounded pretty good. Whether we did or not, it surely was fun and a dream come true!

The pastor that married Jake and Leslie is leaving, so their church held a going-away party for him last night. They were there and we learned the rest of the story.

They liked Only Fools Rush In so much that they had considered using it in their ceremony. When we sang that, Jake asked Leslie, “Did you ask them to sing that?

”No,” she replied.

They were totally delighted. She told us, “[Your song] was truly a blessing and a God thing!”

God is truly interested in the details.

I thank Amy Fenner Photography for taking the picture and allowing me to use it. Amy is truly gifted. Check her out.

Friday the 13th

We were married on a Saturday the 14th. Therefore, our rehearsal dinner was Friday the 13th.

I remember that day every time a Friday the 13th appears on the calendar.

Our to-do list stretched forever and every agenda item required more time than we had planned. Decorating church and reception hall caused the most headaches. I wanted my ladies to have matching jewelry as my gift to them and I wanted them to help me choose it. We rushed through that, but we were hopelessly behind.

For whatever reason, I thought I had to dress for dinner. My bridesmaid Kelly and I had not thought to bring our fancy clothes to change into, so we drove to my parents' house to change. That took over an hour and made us very late for my own rehearsal dinner.

When we walked into the restaurant, my fiance snapped, "Where have you been?" He thought I had dumped him the night before our wedding.

I had battled frozen feet, so he had some reason to be worried. He didn't need to be. I had already decided that life without him was unthinkable.

Hubby and I had planned to do a nice presentation for each of our wedding party's gifts, but that had to be scrapped. At least I was present. Hubby didn't have to chase a runaway bride.

I really shouldn't have bothered to change clothes. I changed back into shorts for the actual rehearsal. My shoes pinched me and I refused to be uncomfortable. The bride should have some privileges!

I was out of that dress so quickly that no one got a picture of me in it until a post-wedding shower. The flowers on the guest book table are my wedding bouquet.