An interesting thing happened on the way to the alter...

...and so begins my daughter's new life. The beauty of my daughter's wedding will be treasured in photographs and in the memories we cling to. And while one of those is fairly simple: find a great photographer, mail him a check--PRESTO! Brilliant photographs, with the perfect editing, to seal the day! The second part, the memories we cling to--this part is a little more tricky.

The morning after the "big day", I sat with two of my best friends and my parents in IHOP and we debriefed on the previous night's events. It was interesting to hear the stories of what others had gone through while I was so intently focused on my daughter. One of my favorite stories was hearing about how my dear friend had lost all use of his iphone in route and had no address to the venue (thanks GPS) and no phone numbers (thanks speed dial) and no idea where to go. He had tried a few exits in the general vicinity of our home and had finally stopped at a Starbucks. Sitting in the coffee shop he stared out across the parking lot, when he noticed he was staring at an IHOP. (Yep, it was my IHOP). Knowing that I often walk to breakfast, and knowing that I probably don't walk far--he knew that our home must be near. So, he ventured back out onto the streets and, eventually, found our home (he has only been to it a couple of times prior). He pulled up to our house just as my youngest son, looking amazing in his tuxedo, was walking out the door. Ahhh...the hand of the Lord at work on a special day.
But, the next day, there was the temptation to focus on some of the frustrating things that had happened. There was a temptation to relive some of the things that were painful and disappointing. And, over pancakes, I shared my fears with these dear ones. How do I remember the good and let go of the bad? And, then, my father after hearing my heart said, "The stories you tell are the things you will remember." 
That statement struck me and has stayed with me all week. I have a lifetime of events, good and sorrowful that prove my Dad's theory to be accurate. The things I remember from the wedding where I was the bride--are the stories I have repeated. The memories I cling to from the day my daughter died--are the tales I have told. My mind has the capability of holding onto every moment of every event, but the stories I tell become my reality of the events.

With my daughter's wedding, my desire is to hold onto the beautiful things that happened, not the disappointments. My flesh is battling against my spirit and if I want my spirit, God's Spirit inside me, to reign-- I have to make the choice to tell the stories that will bring Him glory.
Rather than focusing on the lack of something on this momentous day, I have to tell the stories that will remind all, that on this day--God was faithful.

God was faithful when I sent out text messages and emails begging people to help us set up, decorate, shuttle and serve--beautiful servant leaders in our church showered down on us to set up chairs, prepare food and tie table clothes. God was faithful when he provided us with the skills and knowledge of some gifted and talented women to lead me through the planning of such a big event in a backyard venue. God was faithful when the bride, my beautiful daughter, began to have an allergic reaction (just before she was to take pictures) and her left eye began to swell closed and turn red, and as we called out for Benedryl (and no one could find even one pill) He led me, her Mother, to lead them-- her friends and her faithful bridesmaids--to lay hands on her pray. It was one of my favorite moments, sitting on a chair in the bathroom, overlooking those fabulous hills, we bowed before God and praised Him for being the creator of all things, including Benedryl, and we praised Him for stopping the swelling, because we believed that He would.  Within moments of praying--Benedryl appeared. Today, I am so thankful for that allergy induced eye reation. I am so thankful for it, because on the last day that my daughter was merely my daughter, and not yet a wife, when she faced what was quite frightening, God led me to lead her to Him. I am so thankful that in spite of any of the the times I failed at doing this--on this day--I did what pleases Him.
And so it comes to this, as the days pass and my treasure box of memories threatens to be emptied out and replaced with ugly disappointments, I continue to think of the wise words of my Father and I am determined to be more careful with the stories I tell.

Sentiment for my Mother-in-Law

My daughter is about to have one. I am about to become one. And, so, as I walk the streets of my foothill town and trying to calm nerves and release endorphins, I find my mind swirling and spinning back to the time when I had a Mother-in-Law.

I think back two decades, and remember the time when I was a young bride. I should not have even been allowed to have a Mother-in-Law, because I certainly didn't know how to handle one with care. I didn't know that Mother-in-Laws are fragile and sensitive. I had no understanding to that which she was giving up, on the day of my wedding. I did not know that the struggle I had with her for power or control would become insignificant in a very short time. I didn't know that she would soon become one of my greatest fans. 

I wandered through the first few years of my marriage easily irritated by things she would say. Jumping into the role of the nagging and negative wife. It wasn't the best time of my marriage, and now, when I consider the mindset I had, it is so obvious as to the root of the problems. This need for control. This desire to decide. 

It is a brutally sinful place for a woman to reside; sitting next to a tree in the middle of Eden, eating her apple of control, wanting to make each decision fall the way she has determined.

Fortunately for me, I found my way free from this place of selfishness. Somewhere between the graveyard of my daughter and the little league field of my children, I recognized that this woman did not only love her grandchildren, but she loved me. She loved her daughter-in-law as a Mother loves a child. She wanted my success. She wanted me to achieve and she was proud of any of my goals gained.

Sadly, it wasn't too long ago that she began to disappear. She became engulfed by her disease. Knowledge became her enemy as her memories became unobtainable. The darkness from her disease took her away from us, and now when I think of what we lost, my words work against me to describe my feelings. 

I know it is sadness. And I know it is regret. But, it is deeper. It is like my heart gets so heavy that it sinks down and causes my soul to crease. And when you have a crease in your soul, you can't ever make that go away.

I want so badly to go back and love her better. I want to go back and appreciate her for her willingness to love me and accept me into her family. Flaws, failures and shame~but she didn't see those things. 

Moving forward, with a wedding in 10 days, I am to become a young man's Mother-in-Law and I will have the chance to love him in spite of flaws, failures and shame. My daughter will be received into another family and everyday I pray that she will be loved as fully as I was.

A Letter to the Wedding Gown

Once you were merely fabric, but now you belong to a Bride.  In my home you hang, wrapped in plastic, your beauty hidden for just a few more weeks, and I feel the need to express some things to you before your grand debut. You are so lovely, so intricately woven, so carefully embellished. You have been chosen, chosen by a young woman full of hope for the future that she will have. Chosen by her, with a longing for bridal perfection on the day she presents herself to him, this man she desires.

Soon you will drape her as she makes her way down an isle, lined with loved ones, to begin a new life. But before you have your moment of glory, Beautiful Gown, you should hear about some of the lovelies who graced this girl.

There was a gown, simple and sweet—made from only a yard of cotton that danced with bunnies while she slept. This gown had a draw string to keep her tiny toes safe inside. While it was not embellished with rhinestones and crystals, watching the one who slept in that gown brought a light to my life. When I think of your bride, two decades ago, in that beautiful gown, it makes my heart swell and brings tears to my eyes. And, as lovely as you are today, I treasure the memory of that animal print sleeper, just as fairly. 

I remember a gown that she wore at age two, in her pinkness and blondness fresh from the tub. Her toes danced the hallways and giggles played their own tune for her nighttime rituals. She in her gown, snuggled in the lap of her Daddy, “Read another one!” she would beg, as she reached for a book. Whether the evening held laughter or bedtime tears, it’s irrelevant now, because the child in this gown was here for only a moment. The gown is long gone; one day tossed away like a rag. Not treasured, as it should have been. The simple nightgown of a preschooler never had a shining moment to waltz on a dance floor, but it wrapped her in soft sweetness, night after night, as she cuddled in her bed.

The pinkness disappeared for a while to make room for leopard prints and glamour gowns. The teenage girl found her way through dances and Proms. There were dresses and shoes, make up and nails, as if all a rehearsal for the day she met you. And, soon you will take the glory as the gown of this woman, and each one will pale—forever remembered, merely, as a dress of her youth.

In less than 3 weeks, you will embrace this child of mine; you, Beautiful Gown, chosen by her, will take a special place in my heart and in my memories. In the closet of my mind you will hang, with the jammies and miniskirts, the T-Ball uniform and the swim suits. Each piece of attire that she wore, when she was my child, and I chose the gowns.

“You have stolen my heart, my sister, my bride; 
you have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes.” 
Song of Solomon 4:9


 

Swimming Through Shark Infested Waters...

TIME STAMP: 1:34 AM

"Mom, wake up Dad, there's someone in the garage!"

And...I'm awake. And there stands my daughter in her pj's with the light from the hallway spilling into my bedroom. Behind her I see her 24-year-old, 6'3" fiancee', she follows my eyes and goes on to explain that she called Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome as he was on his way home to drive back to our house and check the garage because she heard someone shaking the door--trying to gain entrance to our house.

I reach my hand toward my husband to wake him, and I see my daughter's handsome fiancee' is making his way towards the garage. Near the door to the garage, is my son's room. The "shaking door" is not actually the garage door, but the door into his bedroom. It turns out that my son, (who we will henceforth refer to as Mr. PETA) has taken one of the felines that graces our home into his room as he went to bed, and now the cat is trying to open the door and get out. So, Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome opens the door and lets Maddie the Cat out of her bedroom prison. He then checks the garage, where he sees the other two animals sleeping peacefully on a large red pillow.

Cat tossed outside, fiancee' to his car, lights distinguished, and doors locked.

And...I'm awake, thinking about things to come. My mind is playing through what just took place and to me it is speaking volumes. You see, some may hear this story and think "Your daughter called her boyfriend back to the house just to let the cat out for the night!?!" But I see it a little differently.

I used to listen to Dr. Laura on talk radio and I remember that she used to tell women that they should find a man who would "swim through shark infested waters to bring her lemonade". I can confidently say that my daughter has found that in this young man. He loves her. He loves her with a passion, a protective nature yet a playful attitude.

This morning the Bride-to-Be and I took a walk, during which the conversation drifted around to her brothers, and what their future may hold. I couldn't help but tell her that I hoped that one day, each of my boys would love someone as passionately as Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome loves her. To love someone so intensely is truly a gift and it requires the ability to trust wholeheartedly.

The Bride-to-Be and Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Handsome will assuredly have obstacles that they must overcome. They will have trials to face, that no one can predict, and some that many of us older people can already see coming. But, they will draw from the examples they've had and truths that they've learned and they will be stronger for the wear. The small steps that they are taking, even now while they live separately, will help them in the future when the problems cannot simply be solved by opening a door.