Today marks our NINETEEN YEAR anniversary.
Our marriage could be compared to a young person of the same age.
Old enough to be included in civil society and given large responsibilities.
Immature enough to shirk those responsibilities occasionally, and definitely shocked when expected to pay for the clean up.
Some of you were at, or IN, our wedding! Others have heard the tale and regretted missing such a party. Well, fear not! As a special treat, I will walk you through the experience of June 16, 1990. I uploaded plenty of blurry, scratchy photos and will happily give you a play-by-play of the pink and teal extravaganza that was our wedding ceremony.
there was a lot of helium, fake flowers and polyester ribbon involved.
and we decorated with that stuff, too.
Despite the looks on our faces here, and my being engaged at age 17, it wasn’t a shotgun wedding. Not sure why we looked like this, I think it was “portrait fatigue” but it cracks me up. My Dad had a friend who was an amateur photographer and took our wedding photos for free. My biggest regret of the planning was agreeing to that! He was a little drunk when he arrived, at noon, to take the pictures. He never found the negatives so we couldn’t get any enlargements or extra copies. Most of the photos were blurry and off center. One thing I will insist on, for the kids future weddings? A great photographer, and I will mortgage the house to pay for it…you just don’t get that day back and pictures are all you have.
(I don’t know why Blogger is underlining everything I type. It’s not a book title! But it will be our 20th anniversary by the time I get it figured out and changed so I’m sorry but you’ll just have to ignore it!)
Anyway…this is our rehearsal. Quite the assembly of acid washed apparel, eh? See my brother Brian, in the red shirt, with his sunburned nose and bleached hair and pegged jeans just itching to get done with his sisters boring wedding and get back to his beloved skateboard ?! I find it prophetic that I am barefoot. And wearing a sundress that is suspiciously maternity-ish in style…
the groomsmen. hard to get a photo that didn’t flashout from the shine of all those silver pants! From left to right: Scott K, Brian, John, David, Jason W. and Kory. All but my brother were friends (and cousins) of John’s since childhood and still his friends, today. John is loyal to the core.
Left to right: Becky, Gabrielle, me, Sherri and Barb. The look on my face here is so haughty and aloof-I don’t remember feeling it but apparently I was thinking “Who is the Queen today, hmmm? Who is wearing the white dress, ladies?! That’s right, that’s right-ME.” I had very few female friends in high school, I was pretty focused on working three jobs and dating this tall guy. So when it came time to choose bridesmaids I was scrambling and the proof is that in all these women, the only friend that remains is John’s sweet sister, Sherri.
Deacon and Hilary!? look how little Tiffany and Heather were! I loved my sweet nieces but it still makes me sad that, because of family dysfunction and craziness, my little stepsister Christy couldn’t be our flower girl. All through our dating years, she liked “Big John” and I promised she would throw petals at us, but she didn’t get to.
I was surprised to see how my Dad was still without any silver hair, even in his beard, in 1990. He’s been silver-gray so long, I forgot what he looked like. Then I remembered he was ONLY 36 when he walked me down the aisle. Younger than I am, today. Oh my-I am going to need more coffee to wrap my head around that!
John’s Uncle Steve married us. He also gave what I am sure was very thoughtful pre-marital counseling too, but I was so giddy with the joy of being engaged I don’t remember anything from it. John does though, and specifically he likes to remind me of the part where I refused to say “obey” in our wedding vows. It took more than coffee, in fact it took quite a few years of studying the Bible, before I could wrap my head around doing THAT. I may not have said it that day, but I appreciate my husband as the head of our home and now fully practice obedience to his decisions regarding our life.
I mean, I try.
(an A for effort, honey?!)
Look at that balloon bonanza! Our youth group leaders wife worked for a local balloon store and she spent hours decorating the church for us, and my mother-in-law Sandy spent hours making the church and hall pretty. The cake had waterfall fountains of teal water. There was fake satin ribbon tied to everything that held still. Crepe paper bells and silk flowers and plastic hearts strewn all about. It was like a High School Prom, on steroids. I can laugh at the decor choices now, and the total lack of subtlety or class…but at 18 years old I was still kid enough to just love it…it felt like a party, and it was.After the vows, and the kiss and the announcement of Mr. and Mrs., most couples walk hand in hand up the aisle. Most. At some weddings, the bride looks up the narrow aisle and then down at her giant hoop skirt, and then out at all those people staring, and she gets a nervous giggle and makes a run for it. Dashing out of there, solo, with her incredulous but laughing new husband still holding her hand and charging after her. It happens all the time, people! I have been to plenty of weddings since my own and haven’t seen it occur again, but it’s a common occurrence. right? right?(now, it’s done underlining? What is up with Blogger today!?)
Here we are, at the reception, posing with John’s grandparents. It surprised me this morning to realize that they have all passed away, now. Back at my new father-in-laws house a few days later, we opened our wedding gifts and are pondering just why 4 different people gave us a big electric frying pan. Perhaps there was a good sale? Or perhaps they had noticed John’s stick-like legs and thought his new bride needed to seriously fry that boy a chicken or three.
Thank you, John for the best half of my life. Despite the bad photography and the unsaid vows, and those who weren’t there with us, and the garish colors and the food we forgot to serve at the reception and the way I left you at the altar (but after the vows, so that helps!) It doesn’t matter one bit…