I have a million things to tell you, but I can't seem to string two words together. I need to start somewhere so I'm just going to start and hope it all makes sense at the end.
Kinda like always here on this side of the pond.
There will be several wedding related posts in the next few weeks, as pictures roll in and I remember all the many bits I want to record here on my blog. I'm beginning in the middle because I can, but will definitely go back and add the rehearsal, the ceremony, the reception, the people, and the 411 on so many amazing little details the bride made come to life.
Right now I don't have a lot of pictures, other than the phone shots friends have sent (
Keep 'em coming!), and it will be a while before we get the photographer's pictures back, so for now how 'bout some words?
The wedding was perfect. Seriously. My daughter said so, and she should know. It rained. A lot.
Still perfect. Absolutely perfect. Here's a little lesson for anyone out there planning a daughter's wedding, or who will someday in the future plan a daughter's wedding-
Everything does not need to go perfectly in order for the day to be perfect.
Did everything go perfectly on January 3rd? Almost. But here's the thing...it was the almost, the imperfect moment, that ended up being my most favorite moment of the entire weekend. It's the thing I have thought about the most, pondered over and over, and stored up in my heart as a treasure to pull out when I need to remember what real love looks like.
So let's get my little 'mishap' out of the way right off the bat.
Y'all. My dress. I loved it so much. I might never love another dress as much as I loved this one. I don't have a great picture yet, but this one gives you some idea. I did not wear my glasses all night, but put them on to help with the place cards, which is when this photo was snapped.
Yes, I needed to tell you that.
The color, fabric, weight, the way it fell, the length, the cap sleeves, the v-back, the sparkle, the fit. Everything about this dress made me so happy. I wore heels because I always wear heels. I'm not a flats kind of girl, and I'm most comfortable in heels on any given day, so naturally I was in heels on wedding day. And this is what I was wearing when the 'incident' occurred. Details matter.
The hair and makeup crew set up in our hotel suite bright and early, and all the super adorable bridesmaids came to our room to get ready.
Bless the maid who toted her steamer all the way from Georgia, because there was some serious dress steaming going on all morning long. We'd purchased yogurt and juice ahead of time, my mother-in-law had given us a loaf of her cranberry bread, and we relaxed and sipped mimosas.
It was sweet, semi-organized chaos while girls took their turns in the makeup chair or at the hair station.
FYI-false eyelashes are da bomb. Wish I had someone to do my hair and makeup every day.
Daughter1 had given all the girls a cute lightweight robe and fuzzy socks so they were all matchy matchy (
me too!) and hours passed, and then we had a deli lunch delivered from McAllisters before getting the bride into her dress and veil.
Everything was going swimmingly. Daughter2 was looking gorgeous in her minty green maid of honor gown, and the bride was beaming. The bridesmaids were beautiful and all smiles, and I was in my dress and heels, with hair and makeup done, feeling all the feels.
In hindsight I guess the feels were bubbling up a little and they needed something to set them free, so I obliged.
The suite had two rooms, a living room and a bedroom. The bridesmaids were all in the living room, so they missed the excitement (although I'm pretty sure they
heard it), but the bride, Daughter2, and myself-mother of the bride,
the one who is supposed to be calm, cool, and collected so as not to upset the bride on her most important day, were all in the bedroom.
The photographer had just walked out of the room
thank goodnessafter capturing Daughter2 and I helping the bride into her gown.
Which was stunning.
She looked like a fairy princess and I mean that literally. Like a fairy princess. One of my friends said she needed a pose, because all the Disney princesses have their own pose. I will post more pics as I get them, with details because there can never be too many details when we're talking weddings.
Anyway, Daughter1's dress did not have a train, but her veil did and I was fussing with it to get it to lay just right as mothers since the dawn of time have done on their daughter's wedding day. I took a step back to get a better look without realizing (until too late) that there was a very large tote bag right behind me.
I fell over backward in a most spectacular manner. I mean all the way over. Flat out on my back, one leg awkwardly splayed sideways. You know those chalk outlines on CSI? It looked like that.
I could not speak. I could not breathe. All I can say is I went into another dimension of time and space, totally and completely unnerving my girls. They were saying all the right things, patting me on the hand, telling me I was okay, which is exactly how every bride wants to spend those last five minutes they have with their mother before they climb into the limo for a ride to the church to get married, isn't it?
I knew I should pull myself together, but I felt incapable. I never feel incapable. I am a capable person, but in that moment I felt positively infantile. I wanted a do-over. I couldn't believe what was happening,
had happened. I wanted
my own mother.
I was ridiculous.
I didn't feel injured, but I did feel like I'd ripped my dress. So daughter2, bless her heart, all dolled up with her perfect hair and ready to go in a freshly steamed unwrinkled long gown, got down on her hands and knees to check the seams. The two of them helped me stand up (eventually, because honestly I had to lay there for a second or two) and they worried just a little.
I was not injured. My dress was intact, not a single tear or ripped seam, but my heart would not stop racing and I just could not seem to shake it off. My daughters recognized that, and didn't miss a beat. Daughter1,
the bride, the girl getting married in less than an hour, who had maybe imagined sharing a tender, heartfelt, even funny moment with her mother, instead had to take charge.
She said, 'We need to pray. Right this very minute.' We sat on the bed (okay, maybe they sat me on the bed), the bride on my left, and her sister on my right, and we all held hands, and the bride prayed the sweetest prayer I've ever had the privilege of hearing. Words I will remember all the days of my life.
I'm close to my girls and I know they love me, but in
that moment, in
that prayer, she articulated everything I felt she wanted to say to me, but that needed just the right moment to be said.
And my less than graceful fall over that bag created just the right moment.
So if I really could have a do-over of those minutes before we left the hotel, would I change anything?
No. Had I torn my dress or broken my ankle I'd probably answer differently, but since I and my dress were both unscathed, I'll say no. I wouldn't take a do-over.
We've all heard of God-winks and God-smiles? Well I like to call this my God-trip. That fall reminded me His hand was upon these girls, my daughters, me. Upon this bride and her new groom, their ceremony and this day. That He made us a family and has bound our hearts together in such a way that all we can do is feel grateful.
And I am. Grateful for a God who takes even the imperfect moments of our lives and makes them perfect.