The groom

As a little girl I dreamed of my wedding day.  A day full of flowers and a white dress, a beautiful shimmering white dress.  A man in a black tuxedo, waiting for me at the end of the aisle.  A father on my arm. A warm day.  A day of excitement and love. A day to remember for always. The beginning of a new life.
So every wedding I went to, I watched and waited for her to appear at the back of the church. Waiting... glowing... beginning her "float" down the aisle.  No one actually walks down the aisle on their wedding day - they float.  You didn't know that?  This is common knowledge to young girls :)
I would stare at the back of the church, first a bridesmaid, and then another, and then a glimmer of white from around a corner, or down a hall, through a door or across a ranch's graveled drive, and then she was there. I would gaze at her in awe.  I would imagine myself in the white dress, making my way down the aisle, smiling, glowing, sparkling...  Even after I was married, I still looked for the bride.  What does her dress look like?  What flowers did she choose to carry?  How will her hair be done?

Several saturdays ago, as I sat in the church waiting for the ceremony to begin, my eyes wandered not to the back of the church, but to the front.  In the past I would only look at the groom when the panorama of my vision included the groom in addition to the bride.  However, this time was different. Maybe it is due to the fact that my wedding day seems like eons ago, and my focus has changed over the past few years... A focus from girls - to boys.  Maybe it was the addition of our third son, or maybe the absence of a daughter, or that when asked what the "high" of his day was, our second son said, "I got to sit by my girlfriend" (the one with the heart on her backpack), or maybe just because... I'm not sure what had me looking for the groom.  In the past, he has somehow just sprung up from the floor.  I never watched him make his entrance.  For those of you wondering, he actually walked out with the minister.  Maybe this is customary... I honestly don't know, because this is literally the very first time I have looked to the front of the church, and watched for the groom.

I don't typically cry at weddings.  Sometimes a hallmark commercial can get me choked up, so I'm not sure why weddings don't have me weeping into my sleeve, but they don't.  That saturday, I watched a young man, maybe 23 or so, wait for his bride to round the corner with her father by her side. He smiled nervously, he shifted his weight quickly, he fidgeted with his hands, and he fixed his gaze at the end of the aisle.  He was standing tall, and he was handsome, but I could see him for a fleeting moment as his mom may have seen him... I could see him when he was 5, waving goodbye to her as he walked into kindergarten... I could see his face as he turned around after his first strike out in little league... I could see his grin from ear to ear when he opened his favorite Christmas gift... I could hear him ask for one more story at bedtime, and look at her with those eyes... She knows the eyes, the eyes she just can't say no to... the same eyes that are now fixed on his bride... floating down the aisle towards him.  I could see him if only in my mind, as his mother might have seen him a thousand times in a thousand memories prior to that day... And I cried.  I cried because I had never really thought about it before. I had never really thought about all of the moments that led up to that day. I had never really thought about one of my sons, ready for that day. The day that he was mature enough to take someone as his bride, to take care of her, to provide for her... 

Sigh... 

The wildness and silliness of my boys keeps me on my toes, stresses me out and brightens my days.  It is good to be reminded that even though they are young now, I am raising men.  Sooner than I realize, they will need to provide for someone else, they will need to have strength of character and an understanding of how to treat the beautiful white glimmer at the other end of the aisle.  This is a noble calling. I thank God everyday for my boys, and I pray that I would be reminded - in between diaper changes, mud on my carpet, and balls flung at my head, that a noble calling is before me.  I wouldn't have it any other way.

"There is an enduring tenderness in the love of a mother to a son

that transcends all other affections of the heart."

Washington Irving

Be Still My Soul

We arrived at church on Sunday (a couple of sundays ago now), dropped the older boys off at sunday school, and then headed into the service. Which, I might add, had not started yet.  Pretty good for our first trip to church with Archer along.  We sat down, and I flipped through the bulletin as usual.  I noticed right away that the celebration choir was singing a couple of my favorites, and then I turned further and saw one of the later hymns... "Children of the Heavenly Father".  I am sure I had heard it before, but because it was one that we had at Amelia's funeral, it will always evoke strong emotions and memories for me.  I don't think it was something that P would notice, but I didn't point it out.  He may notice that my shoes don't match my outfit very well, or that the wall hanging is a little too high or low, but a specific hymn, not so much. However, as we sang the second hymn, I stopped singing, my mouth couldn't form the words, and I didn't have the air to push them out.  I didn't expect it... Maybe I had never paid attention to the words before - I mean really paid attention. Soaking up the words and their meaning.
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Be still, my soul; the Lord is on thy side;

Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain;

Leave to thy God to order and provide;

In every change He faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul; thy best, thy heavenly, Friend
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Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end. 
 
--------------------------- and then these words-----------------------
 
Be still, my soul, though dearest friends (my daughter) depart

And all is darkened in the vale of tears;

Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,

Who comes to soothe thy sorrows and thy fears.
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As much as I hate the pit in my stomach from grieving, and the missing that is so painful at times, I must say that God was tender. He was tender and close.  His love for me evident, despite the hurt I was experiencing.  I don't think I realized it at the time.  I was probably still confused and mad about everything.  I am a little passive aggressive though, even with God (pathetic, I know).  You know - when you say, "no, I'm not mad at you", and then you are quiet and sulky despite 'not being mad'. I prayed to Him, I sobbed and hung my head, I pouted my lips and asked why, but I still said, "no, God, I'm not mad at you."  I didn't understand why us, or why her, and even though I will never know why --- at least I'm not mad anymore.  I will still look at other people and wonder why us and not some other family... but then I will also think of how close He was to me during that time, and I will crave that forever.  I am thankful that He was close to me.  I will know His heart in a way I couldn't have before. I will know His love in a way I was incapable of before. Just as the hymn says, "I better know His love, His heart," AND I DO.  He did, "soothe thy sorrows and thy fears" too. 
It is not my job to understand how He chooses to- as the hymn says, "order and provide" and it is okay that it is a mystery to me, because He is a mystery.  A loving and just God who orders the heavens and earth and knows when a sparrow falls, and yes, is still a mystery.  He is a big, HUGE, almighty God, and He chose to come close to me... as close as my own skin.  I miss my daughter, I always will, but later in the service when I sang "Children of the Heavenly Father" I didn't cry.  I didn't cry for her, or for us who live without her on this earth.  This time it was "Be Still My Soul" that brought the lump in my throat. Because those words were my experience exactly. He was all of those things to me.  He was so very real to me during a time when I wanted to look the other way, when I wanted to ignore Him.  However, it is impossible to ignore your own skin.  It's there, all the time, and you live in it.  I get to live everyday with His spirit in me, but those days when the outside world was foggy and my head and heart were wounded from grief, the Father was close, so very close to me.  I miss only two things about those early days. One - everything about Amelia was more fresh in my mind, and two - God's tenderness and closeness.
And during a time of turmoil and restlessness in my heart, He stilled my soul, as only He can.