Then he made a suggestion that confirmed how much I loved him.
The day of my wedding came and the sun was out. The stress and whirlwind of getting ready for the wedding had everyone running around freaking out, but Alyssa was the perfect princess all morning.
The church was beautiful and the bridesmaids made their way down the aisle followed by Alyssa and then myself. Travis and I said our vows to each other. It was a wonderful moment.
Our Reverend then asked Alyssa to step forward. It was then that Travis made his vow to my daughter.
I Travis, choose you, Alyssa,
to be my family.
I promise to honor and respect you,
and to provide for you to the best of my ability.
I promise to make our home a haven,
where trust, love and laughter are abundant.
I make these promises lovingly, and freely,
and vow to honor them all the days of my life.
He then placed a beautiful gold locket around her neck and gave her a kiss.
At that moment all the planning and worrying about how I looked didn’t matter. I knew that God had sent the perfect man, a man who taught me the meaning of unconditional love, of trust and renewed faith. A man who, on this day, completed us.
Michelle Lawson
Coming Full Circle
I met Sara during preschool. I was three years old and she was four. We were kindred spirits, alike in so many ways—inseparable sisters who became family through our own self-created love.
But one thing that differentiated the two of us was the fact that my parents were still married, while her parents were divorced.
Jim and Teresa’s divorce had shocked everyone who knew them. They were high school sweethearts who married right after graduation. Then two years later, shortly after Teresa gave birth to Sara, Jim divorced her and moved to another state.
“Why did your father leave?” I’d asked Sara.
“I don’t know.” She shrugged her shoulders and flipped her ponytail like she didn’t care. But deep down I knew she did.
Although Sara did not see her father often, he called regularly, encouraged and rewarded her good grades, kept abreast of her activities, and provided the family with more than enough money. So in spite of the separation, she always felt he cared about her.
Teresa never discussed why she and Jim divorced. Family and friends reminisced about their once-passionate relationship. But Teresa’s bitterness was apparent.
During her freshman year of high school, Sara met Brad, a sweet, smart and handsome young man who eventually won over all of us. All except her mother—who objected when Brad proposed four years later.
Teresa repeatedly explained how painful marriage could be, especially at such a young age. She did not want to see her daughter go through the same hurt she’d experienced. Sara insisted she loved Brad, and their situation wasn’t the same as her mother’s. Defeated, Teresa accepted Sara’s decision to marry.
The day of Sara and Brad’s engagement party, the couple’s families and friends enjoyed meeting one another and celebrating the upcoming nuptials. Brad tried hard to entertain and talk to Sara’s mother in spite of her persistent coldness.
Toward the end of the evening, Sara’s dad startled everyone when he walked through the door. I watched Sara run across the room and throw herself into his arms. Surprisingly, even Teresa looked pleased.
After meeting Brad and congratulating the couple, Jim spotted his ex-wife and immediately went to her table. He kissed her cheek, gave her a lingering hug and sat beside her. The two talked away the evening.
The day of Sara and Brad’s wedding was magical. As maid of honor, it was my responsibility to tend to my best friend. As I straightened her veil, there was a slight knock at the dressing room door.
Teresa walked in and quietly gave Sara her blessing, apologizing for being so doubtful in the beginning. Then she admitted to Sara that she’d been in regular contact with Jim since the engagement party. They had done lots of talking and, for the first time, Jim explained why he’d left, apologized for his immaturity, his panic as a young parent and his wrongdoings. More importantly, he begged for forgiveness.
Teresa explained how this conversation helped her deal with the resentment she’d felt and the lonely void caused by his absence. After all these years, she discovered she still loved him. Thrilled with the reconciliation, mother and daughter embraced.
Sara’s father escorted her to the altar where she joined hands with Brad. Then Jim sat next to Teresa; they joined hands, too.
During the reception, everyone danced, ate and toasted the evening away. And Sara’s parents did not leave each other’s side. When a slow song began to play, Jim asked Teresa to dance. Suddenly he got down on one knee and took his ex-wife’s hand in his. A clamorous crowd circled the pair.
“I love you,” Sara’s father began, “and I need for everyone to know how sorry I am for what I did to you and our daughter.”
Sara’s mother couldn’t utter a word, because her other hand was covering her mouth in shock.
“And I want you to be my wife. Again. Will you marry me, Teresa?”
She pulled Jim into her arms.
In Sara’s eyes, that moment made her wedding day perfect. Not only did she marry the man she loved but, after eighteen years of hope, tears and prayers, her mother and father reunited. Like the wedding band her husband slipped on her finger, Sara felt like her life had come full circle.
Denise N. Wheatley
Built on Love
Remember that the most beautiful things in the world are the most useless; peacocks and lilies, for example.
John Ruskin
“Is this a serious relationship with Matt?” I asked into the phone as I watched workmen nail drywall in our Florida home.
“It could be,” Betsy answered from her apartment in Washington, D.C. When I heard the love in my daughter’s voice, I knew there would be a wedding in her future.
Months later, Betsy called late one night. I could hear excitement in her voice. “Mom! Matt just asked me to marry him and he gave me a beautiful diamond ring. We’re engaged!” She paused to catch her breath. “The wedding will be a year from now. That will leave plenty of time to make the arrangements.”
As happy as I was for my daughter, I was relieved the wedding would not be soon. With our home under major construction, we needed to complete all the messy renovations before focusing on a wedding.
A few months later Betsy called with another surprise.
“Mom, guess what? Matt and I decided we don’t want to wait a year. We want to get married in two months. A Christmas wedding . . . at your home.”
Two months? Our home? A wedding at our construction site?
“Our home looks like a hurricane hit it,” I alerted Betsy. “The ‘curb appeal’ includes an outhouse for the workers and a Dumpster overflowing in the driveway. Bricks and debris occupy our front yard. The indoor tile floors and electrical installations aren’t finished. How can you have a wedding in all this chaos?”
“We’ll manage somehow.” Betsy, determined and undaunted, ignored my panic.
My stomach churned as we began to plan.
“There’s going to be a wedding here in a few weeks,” my husband, Jim, announced to the surprised contractor. “Complete as much of the construction as you can. Focus on finishing the tile floors.” The workers shook their heads in disbelief.
I immediately contacted my friend, Lois, an experienced caterer. “I’ll plan the wedding, make the cake and decorate your home the best I can,” she promised with a sigh, “but it’s going to be a challenge.”
I quickly hired a photographer who stared in disbelief when he saw the rubble. “I’ll have to avoid capturing construction eyesores in the wedding pictures. It won’t be easy.”
The day before the wedding, Lois and her assistant balanced boxes of decorations as they picked their way around piles of sand, broken bricks and discarded b
oards.
“Be careful to avoid the parts of the tile floor that were grouted last night,” Jim advised as they stacked boxes in a corner. “There is nothing we can do to camouflage the exposed air-conditioning ducts.”
“Let’s hang garlands and red bows above the floor-to-ceiling windows to frame your view of the Intracoastal Waterway,” Lois suggested, looking at the changing panorama of lazy sailboats, expensive yachts and squawking seagulls. “We’ll intertwine garlands and bows on the spiral staircase and outline the steps with red and green poinsettias. Tall candelabras at the base of the staircase will add a formal touch.” She stepped back to visualize her plans.
The day of the wedding, the sun cast early morning shadows on the overflowing Dumpster while dew clung to the outhouse.
“Welcome to our disaster area,” we teased, as guests navigated a maze of construction obstacles. Inside, people sat on a hodge-podge of furniture. Outside the open glass doors, guests awaited the ceremony on a lone couch perched on a sandy knoll.
The music began and Betsy entered from a bedroom, a vision in white on her dad’s arm. Her eyes twinkled as brightly as the lights on the Christmas tree. When she caught my eye, she winked at me with happiness. With the sparkling water and cloudless sky in the background, Betsy and Matt exchanged their wedding vows.
The photographer squatted in front of the tiered wedding cake positioned on a festive table in front of tall windows. He carefully aimed his camera and focused on the cake with the waterway, seagulls and sailboats in the background. With a quick snap of the shutter, he captured the scene.
“Let’s eat by the water,” guests suggested as they spilled out onto the deck and the dock. People were so impressed with the natural beauty of the waterfront they seemed oblivious to the tackiness of our construction zone. They enjoyed themselves as they feasted on fine food and a fine view.
Our wedding-under-construction was a success.
Years later, Betsy and Matt came to visit our renovated home. We reminisced about their wedding and decided to visit Lois at her bustling cake shop. She urged us to stay a few minutes so she could share her favorite story.
“Here is a book I show clients.” She opened a bulging black binder. “Your wedding cake, with the cascade of red roses, is right here . . . number 32.” Lois pointed at the picture. “This is a popular cake among my customers. They often linger and study the photo.
“They always ask, ‘Where is this beautiful waterfront hotel with the tall windows?’ And they say, ‘Look at the view with the birds and the boats in the background! We want to make a reservation to have our wedding there.’
“I get a chuckle out of it every time,” Lois smiled. “But I continue to keep your secret.”
Betsy laughed at the irony and shared a thought. “I’ve come to realize a wedding is something you construct at the beginning of a relationship. A marriage is something you build over time.”
Miriam Hill
With a typical wedding cake costing $300, Ed and Linda opted for the more economical wedding pizza.
CLOSE TO HOME ©John McPherson. Reprinted by permission of UNIVERSAL PRESS SYNDICATE. All rights reserved.
Raining Love
I found the music to her favorite song. I wore earrings that belonged to her. I searched out flowers that had grown in her garden to add to my bridal bouquet. Still, something was missing. Nothing could fill the space in my heart reserved for Nana.
During their nearly fifty-year-long marriage, my Nana and Granddad shared an unwavering love. A love ingrained in my own life. A shining love that made me hope to meet someone, someday, with whom to share a love as deep as theirs.
Now, it was really happening: The time had come for me to marry David, the love of my life. But Nana wasn’t there to see it. Even the comforting knowledge that she and Granddad were dancing together in heaven couldn’t soothe the pain in my heart. I missed her.
The morning of my wedding dawned gray. As I left for the hairdresser, rain drenched everything around me. It continued to rain when I left for the ceremony. Showers gently washed the church windows while we exchanged our vows.
Suddenly, the rain stopped, as we exited the church.
The sun peeked out.
And I felt my grandparents there with me.
Later at the reception, my godfather, Uncle Bob, walked to the podium. “With all this rain, I know the ladies feel like wilted flowers. Your Nana always said that tears were ‘liquid love.’ So it is my belief that all the rain that has fallen is your grandparents’ love showering down. If you can embrace all that love you will have a very happy marriage.”
I felt my own tears “falling down,” and remembered the old adage, “Blessed is the bride on whose wedding day rain does fall.” And I knew now that it was true. I was blessed this day. Blessed with Nana’s liquid love.
Kelly Stevens-Hartley
5
WHO
GIVETH?
You know what they say: “My son’s my son until he gets him a wife, but my daughter’s my daughter all of her life.”
Stanley Banks in
Father of the Bride (1950)
A Tale of Two Fathers
Our parents divorced when Karen was a toddler, and a few years later we were blessed with the best of a complicated world—a father and a stepfather. The situation wound up a bit confusing later on down the road. Especially when it was time for Karen to get married.
As sometimes happened in those days, long before shared custody and divorce mediation, we didn’t maintain much contact with our natural father. It was hoped that our new stepfather would grow to be the apple of our eyes.
Gordon was, in fact, a wonderful man. He accepted us as his children and went on to nurture, counsel and play a major part in the raising of my sister and me. He was the humor in an otherwise dry existence. He was the fun where there often wasn’t any. And he was the true keeper of our hearts, with our best interests always at the center of his own.
I maintained ties with my natural father, too, although initially strained. I saw the situation for what it was and did my best to mend all wounds. Gordon supported this whole-heartedly. Karen, being years younger than me, grew up without really knowing our natural father.
When Karen was in high school and I was married, living far away from home, we went through a second divorce. This time, however, I was careful to maintain ties. Gordon remained the father figure he’d always been and even became “Grandpa Gordon” to my firstborn. Karen and Gordon grew apart some, but reestablished ties after graduation.
Gordon eventually remarried. Carol was ideally suited to him and understood the complications of our situation. When they both encouraged Karen to mend her severed ties with Dad, she bravely set about renewing a relationship she barely remembered.
Communication with Dad was, at its best, on the surface. We knew he loved us and he knew we loved him, but the words were seldom spoken aloud. And none of us ever mentioned our relationship with Gordon.
Before Karen announced her engagement, she voiced her concerns. “I want Gordon to give me away when I get married.”
“Mm-hmm,” I replied.
“But I want Dad to give me away, too. I don’t want to hurt either one of them.”
I knew Gordon would understand. My father, however, would be a little harder to convince. “Let me see what I can do.”
A letter, I decided, felt right. Gordon, of course, was privy to my plan and supported it.
Dear Dad,
We were children when this all started, and the situation was completely out of our hands. As adults now, we need and want you to be our father. We love you and want you to be a part of our lives.
But Gordon is a part of our lives, too. He has been a good man, an honest man, and has done everything a father would do for his children.
Karen is getting married in a few months. It would mean the world to her, and to me, if you would walk her down the aisle—together with Gordon.
Loving Gor
don doesn’t mean in any way that we love you any less. There is plenty of room for two wonderful fathers in our lives. Gordon always encouraged contact with you, never spoke a word against you or undermined our feelings for you. We respect the fact that you never voiced negative feelings about Gordon.
Give this some thought. Remember both Karen and I love you and want our family ties to be restored. Remember that in your absence, we established strong family ties with Gordon, and it would be unfair to all of us to expect that to stop.
It would be a beautiful sight to watch Karen walking down the aisle on her wedding day, flanked by two wonderful fathers. It would be an answer to prayer.
I love you.
Kim
A couple of weeks later, Karen received a phone call from Dad.
“So where do I go to get measured for my tux?”
In late August, Karen walked down the aisle with a handsome father on each side of her. They wore identical tuxedos with matching smiles and radiated the same fatherly love and joy.
The blessing to Karen and I was twofold. In addition to ending years of confusion and estrangement, we learned to share the joy of being the proud daughters of two extraordinary fathers.
Kimberly Ripley
The Best One
Blessed indeed is the man who hears many gentle voices call him father!
Lydia M. Child
When I was a little girl, my father had a time-honored tradition of tucking me into bed. Following my bedtime story, he would give me a nose kiss, tickle my stomach and whisper the most wonderful words into my ear.
“Michelle, of all the little girls in the whole wide world . . .” he would pause.
“Yes, Daddy?”
“How did your mommy and I get so lucky to get the best one?”
Before he had time to finish, I would say, “You got me!”
And then he would continue, “The best little girl in the whole wide world, and we got you.”