Ol' Sweet Day

 Seventeen years ago today, I became a wife. The day was absolutely fantastic, and I carry so many wonderful memories with me still. Although our marriage ended a few years ago, I still recognize and "celebrate" the day each year, because it's an integral part of my life story, and I am grateful that it happened. 

When I was married, my youngest sister was seven years-old. My former husband and I were fortunate enough to have each of our immediate siblings in the wedding ceremony, but she was the youngest bridesmaid. She was not even up to my chest in height. It was one of my dreams come true to have my siblings with me on one of the most important days of my life. 

Today, seventeen years later, wearing my grandma's wedding dress, my youngest sister became a wife.

Before she and her fiance were ever engaged, she had asked me if I would officiate her wedding someday, if her path lead her to be married. I was completely shocked, but absolutely honored, and said yes, I would be willing to have that role.  Months later, her wonderful boyfriend, now husband, proposed to her, and she asked me again, to make sure I was still willing. I was overjoyed for her, and again, said I absolutely would do that. 

The day she introduced him to myself and my children, and I saw how well they immediately got along, and how he seemed to already love my kids, who are also a big part of my sister's life as they somewhat "grew up together" (she became an aunt when she was 11), and how at ease he was with us, I fell in love with him as a man for her. As we watched their relationship continue to grow, I prayed for them, believing he would be the one she would someday marry.

Granted, I am not one who likes public speaking, but there was no reserve whatsoever in my heart. She recently told me that she knew I would be the perfect person to write her wedding ceremony and officiate their marriage. I won't lie, it made me emotional and I laid there with tears, blown away by how strongly she felt that way about me. 

Being a divorced, single momma, married just shy of ten years... I will not lie and say I had not had a few moments where I questioned whether or not I was the right person for the job. My marriage did not last. How could I possibly be a good fit for helping someone begin a new one? It took being told that I was not bad at marriage to help me reframe my view. When I thought about it with a fresh perspective, I started to see where my little sister was possibly coming from when she thought of me as the perfect fit for her wedding. I was not bad at marriage, even though it failed. And, honestly, because it failed, I have a perspective I did not have prior, as to some integral parts of what helps a marriage be strong. I laid in bed last night, unsure of myself in this role, but woke up this morning filled with joyous anticipation of the wedding to come. 

The wedding was wonderful. I was slightly nervous speaking in front of the dear family and friends who were able to attend, but as soon as I saw my brother-in-law begin escorting his mother in, my nerves were met with pure happiness. I could not stop smiling. It was a privilege to officiate alongside his grandpa, who helped with a few components of the ceremony, making it truly a special fit for both the bride and groom. When the rings were exchanged and I said they could give a great big high five (yes, that really happened, but they got to kiss after it), I had a rush of pure exhilaration, and I proclaimed them Mr. & Mrs. It was such a beautiful evening. 

My dad held on to my sister's bridesmaid dress from my wedding all those years ago. As I look at this photo of her today, holding the dress from my wedding, wearing my grandmother's dress for her own wedding, I have so many emotions. I feel slight sadness that the years go by so quickly, because even though I was 16 when she was born, I loved spending time with her (and our other sister who is a few years older than the bride) growing up. I had them visit me so many times and created some magnificent memories. I find myself in awe of the fact that not only is she my sister but one of my best friends, and that I have had the chance of seeing her as a newborn and grow into a wonderful young woman. I've been blessed by our relationship in so many unexplainable ways. There's something indescribably beautiful about having your baby sister grow into an adult best friend. To top all that off with being involved in each other's weddings, and those weddings being on the same date, and I feel overwhelmingly blessed by the gifts God has given us in this journey. 

I am so grateful that we have been key figures in each other's life stories, and our love is so deep that we can't imagine our most important days without the other. 

I wish nothing but the absolute best, and am praying a lifetime of blessings for the new husband and wife. 

It still feels surreal to say that. 

Once Upon a Lifetime Ago

Once upon a lifetime ago, on August 5, 2006, a bright-eyed, creative, social justice seeking young lady married the man she dreamed of for as long as she could remember, a kind, caring, hard-working, musical and charming young man.

Their friendship had blossomed and deepened quickly, and grew into a deep love for one another, and on that hot summer’s day, in front of family and dear friends, they pledged their lives to one another.

Now, as we know, sometimes forever doesn’t last that long, at least not when humans are in charge.  As is the case more often than we would wish, “Come What May” faded and the fairy tale took a turn that two devoted love birds would never imagine possible, and the union between those two was severed.

I was the young lady in this story.

It’s been over four years now since my divorce was final.  As many know, the divorce did not come easy, and it was actually something I had to work very hard to be granted, for multiple reasons.  It was never anything I really wanted, but it was something I had to have.  Throughout the past six years, actually a little more, life has been a rollercoaster of occasionally unbelievable variety.

Here we are, 14 years after my wedding day.  After separating from my former husband, and especially after the divorce, I sit and wonder, each year, on this day, if it’s something I should acknowledge, publicly or privately.  It’s not an anniversary of continued marriage commitment, but yet, it is an anniversary of a huge life milestone.

I decided, this year, I will acknowledge it, publicly.

It is a big deal.

That love shaped me into a kind, devoted woman.  That love battled infertility to allow me to be a mother.  That love created innumerable memories, both good and bad.  That marriage shaped my life.  In the good times and the bad times, it molded me into a strong, brave, compassionate, woman full of faith in God.

Now that my youngest, my daughter, is six, and her father is in a new relationship with a woman he loves, a woman I am quite fond of as well, my little girl has a lot of questions about love and marriage.  She thinks kissing is gross, but she knows once upon a lifetime ago, I used to kiss her dad. She knows her dad kisses someone new now.  She thinks both situations are yucky.  Oh, I love how innocent she is.

In this new season of life, the kids all three talk about marriage and divorce more than they ever had in the past.

This year, on the anniversary of my wedding, I decided I will do something I have never done before with my children.

I will talk about my wedding day.

I will show them photos.

I will let them ask questions.

I will remember the day for the beautiful celebration that it was.

Being the sentimental and emotional woman that I am, someday I will also show them my wedding dress, if they’d like.  It currently is stored with my sister-in-law.  I believe my wedding rings are there too.  I saved both in the event that my daughter, especially, would like to see them.  I did not know then whether her dad would ever be in her life again, because for most of it, he really wasn’t, but I wanted her to know that she was created by love, out of the dreams her mom and dad once had together.  I have a shadow box their dad made me with my bouquet, our vows and my jewelry, which is stored with a dear friend, that perhaps someday I will desire to get back and share with them.  I just don’t know.

But what I do know now is that this year, I think it’s okay to open up those memories for my children.  I will let them see the joy in our faces as we became man and wife.  I will let my daughter marvel over my pretty white dress.   I will let them create their own memory in their minds of what could have happened that day, and let them know that it’s okay to talk about the joy that led up to their lives, even if that marriage no longer exists.  I will celebrate that lifetime ago that began their journey.        I will remind them (and myself) that even though happily ever after did not turn out the way we imagined, because God is SO GOOD, we have a happily ever after that we can love to live this way too.

(And what’s an anniversary without a wedding photo?  Here’s one of my very favorites of that day.)

I try not to wallow...

This evening, as I scroll through Facebook in my wind-down time, I see all sorts of posts about weddings and marriages and anniversaries. It is summer after all, which means wedding season is in full-swing.

Last summer, I don't remember noticing that as much. It's likely because I was stressed with trying to get my life in order and move out from the homeless shelter transitional housing and start our lives over.

This year, though... It's a different story.

Just last night, I saw something online about someone's anniversary, and it dawned on me that August 5th should have been a celebration of 10 years of marriage for me and my former husband.

Seeing all of these joyful summer wedding posts has me feeling a bit miserable tonight. Don't get me wrong, I am happy for others, but it doesn't negate my own heartache.

I had a summer wedding, once. I was engaged to the man of my dreams, as they say, who was promising me his whole life, everything and all things, no matter what, come what may. 

I was like most brides- anxious and expectant and excited beyond belief that it was my turn.

It's amazing how my simple little dream wedding lead to the nightmare ending that it did.

I sit here and wonder "why me? Why, out of all these summer weddings, was my story the one culminating with lies, control, manupulation, betrayal, abandonment, and divorce?"

I know I shouldn't wallow. I try not to. 

And there is no secret to the source of this much life...

Ah, the memories.

<-- Five years ago this afternoon, this is what was going on in my life.

I was so excited... and maybe a little nervous due to the fact that so many of our friends and family were staring at us as we publicly committed our lives to one another through God. We wrote our own vows, and I got a little choked up saying mine, but I did not break into tears, which I thought was an excellent accomplishment. When I cry, you can't understand what I am trying to say, really, so I had hoped I wouldn't start sobbing while trying to read my vows to my ne

w husband and he would be wondering "so, what did she just promise anyway?" Haha.

When it came time for the exchange of the rings, I think the magnitude of the moment hit me, and I tried so hard to put Jake's wedding ring on the ring finger of his right hand. He tried to stop me, which made me try harder to get the ring on the incorrect finger. Then, I realized what I was doing, and we all had a great little laugh. That's what the picture here is showing, us laughing as I place the ring, finally, on the correct finger. That is one of my fondest memories from the entire wedding ceremony. It's just... perfect.

I am still, fortunately, able to "play" the wedding day over and over in my mind as I please, and I pray that those memories never fade. We never received a video of our wedding, so I have never been able to actually watch the ceremony, but we were blessed with an audio CD recording from the church in which the ceremony was held. I have only listened to it a few times, because I feel like I can still remember it so well on my own.

It's been five years since Jake and I became husband and wife. I can't decide if it sounds like a short time or a long time.

I remember our first wedding anniversary (which we celebrated a few days early by this moment, because friends of ours were getting married the day before our actual anniversary and we were going to the lake the day of our anniversary) when I waited in my wedding dress, in the dark of our living room, with our first dance song queued up on the CD player with a note that said "press play." I sat, waiting, and waiting, for him to come through the double doors after his long day at work. I wanted to have our "first dance," again. I had planned that second first dance before we were even officially married. It was a wonderful surprise.

I remember thinking how big a deal the FIRST anniversary was. ONE YEAR! Wow! Consequently, each passing anniversary I have thought of as a bit more important, or monumental, anyway, leading up to today.. our FIFTH. I joke and call it our "golden anniversary," seeing as how we were married on August 5th (yes, I know the 50th is the official gold).

Five years is, in my opinion, the second big milestone for marriages. It's half a decade, which makes it sound like a long time, but it's only 5 years, too, a single digit number.

Regardless, I hold today with high esteem and great importance. It is a monumental day in our lives.

Unfortunately, this year, Jake is in Howard, SD, working a long day. He has been there since yesterday, not coming home due to DOT laws. So, I have not seen him since yesterday morning, and there's a good chance I won't see him until tomorrow morning, as he is usually home past 1am on this route day.

While I am sad that I cannot be "with" him physically to celebrate this wonderful day in our lives, I was blessed to have him call me and tell me he loved me. And, tomorrow, he does not work, so we have the entire day to be together. That's worth being thankful for, too.

So, to summarize, I can't believe that this milestone anniversary is already upon us. I am blessed beyond measure to have Jake as my husband, and to have started a family together (this is our first anniversary with Spencer celebrating with us!). We're already "growing old" together, which is something we looked forward to for many years.

I cannot wait to celebrate our 6th anniversary... and every anniversary after.

Jake, I love you. Thank you for choosing me.

Mother of the Groom

This past weekend, we attended the wedding of Jake's step-brother, Cody, and his sweetheart, Emily. It was a wonderful wedding, I might add, very representative of the couple's personalities.

I've been to quite a few weddings in my lifetime (ever since I was a little girl), and been in a couple of them as well. And, obviously, I've had my own wedding. I've been a wedding photographer as well. I've enjoyed weddings from many facets because of this, participant, best friend, relative, and photographer. I've always been filled with joy and excitement for the couple, especially after being married myself, knowing what it feels like to be a bride.

But, I will admit, I've never really spent a lot of time thinking about the parents of the bride and groom, other than at my wedding when my dad walked me down the aisle to give me to Jake. I guess, if I had thought about it from a parents perspective, it's always just been the joy that I've felt that I assumed was all they felt too.

Well, now I'm a mother. For the first time, I sat through a wedding (other than my own or my best friend's), and was on the verge of tears the majority of the time. This time, I was experiencing the wedding, I feel, more closely to the way a parent of the groom would experience a wedding.

It was crazy to sit in the seat and watch Cody, my brother-in-law, get married, but see him as I feel his mother might have seen him. She always will be her firstborn, her "baby" boy, so to speak. And on Saturday, her baby was becoming a man. Yes, he was legally a man, in his early twenties to be exact, and had graduated college already. But, as I felt when Jake and I were married and we became "true adults," so too were Cody and Emily. I have no idea where this concept I hold of marriage meaning you're REALLY an adult came from, since there are many adults who are clearly adults and they are unmarried. So, I hope that didn't offend anyone reading.

But basically, I sat there watching the wedding, filled with joy, but feeling the bittersweet side of things much more purely than I ever had before. No longer would the groom come home to his mom's house as his own, because after Saturday, he is off to build his own home with his own wife. They're building a life outside that of the parents. Officially, there is a new leading lady in his life. While she has been there a while, it seems a bit different after a wedding, you know?

So, I sat there, dwelling on those feelings, and realizing that before I know it, God willing, MY baby boy will meet a woman who will become the leading lady in his life, and I will give him away to her to build his own life, to become a man, to move out and to move on, just as Jake and I have already done, and our parents and so many others in our families before us.

Yes, he's 7 months old only, and I have many years before a wedding will happen (like I pray that it will, I pray so dearly my boy will find love like I have), but when that day comes, I know it will feel like it's come all too soon.

Four Years Ago.

Four years ago today, I was called by my maiden name.

Four years ago tomorrow, my name changed.

My world changed.

It's funny to think that it's been four years tomorrow since Jake and I were married. Sometimes it feels like the years went by in a flash. Other times, it seems like we've crammed so much into them that they have gone by at a snail's pace. It's funny how four is a constant, it's the same number no matter how you look at it- the same quantity. But yet, at any given time, it can feel so much different than it did moments before.

I don't remember a lot about four years ago from today, oddly enough. I remember sitting a the reception hall with my mother, my grandmother, and my sisters, arranging and rearranging tables, photographs, and decorations.

I remember, what I think was a wonderful grooms' dinner, where Jake's father and my father took charge of grilling and we spent the evening at park with our wedding party and family. I remember crying happy tears.

I remember going home, and knowing I needed to sleep, and finally being forced to go to bed, while my maid of honor and best man, and my soon-to-be husband finished getting ready for the big day. I remember pressing butter into molds so that it'd be cute on the tables.

Four years ago from tomorrow, though, I can see in my mind like a movie. Getting up, putting on a Schwan's shirt and heading to the hair stylist (with my maid of honor in matching attire). Meeting my bridesmaids there (except my youngest sister and Jake's sister), then going for coffee. Going to the church, getting ready, seeing Jake for the first time (after peeking around a church door trying to catch an early glimpse), the photos, and being whisked into hiding before the ceremony.

I remember being so calm. I hadn't felt so certain of anything before.

My dad walked me down the aisle to "I Believe," by Blessid Union of Souls, played on piano by a friend of mine. The ceremony was beautiful to me. I was told by some dear friends it was the most romantic ceremony they'd seen. (I never was able to see it, as the recording didn't work, but we do have an audio CD that I will most likely listen to tomorrow.)

My favorite part of the ceremony was when I tried (more than once) to put his ring on the right hand, not the left. We laughed. Our photographer caught the moment for us.

Fast forward to when we left the church, and my mother's idea of having birdseed thrown at us came to life. It wasn't the best idea there could have been. I had birdseed wedged into my dress and we had to pit-stop so my personal attendant and I could lift it up and I could shimmy best I could to get it to fall out.

I remember most of the reception, including people eating the butter like it was mints and laughing hysterically as they did so. The speeches, the kisses, the cake, and of course, the dance.

Our first dance was to "A Page is Turned," by Bebo Norman. For our first anniversary, I put on my wedding dress again, and when Jake came home, he pressed "Play" on the CD player where I had attached a note, and I came out of hiding, dressed as I was a year before, and we danced to our song again.

When I hear the songs from our dollar dance, I can remember who I danced with to each song. It's insane to me how vivid the memories are!

I could continue on and on, but I guess I'm probably boring you all.

Jake, if you read this, Happy 4th Wedding Anniversary. I can't wait for the 5th and every one from here on out.

The Baby Book Wedding Graduation.

Last Friday (May 28th), my best friend of over 19 years got married! It was my second favorite wedding I've ever been to (next to my own, obviously). I was the only bridesmaid (Maid of Honor (and Awesomeness)), with four groomsmen, a flower girl, and a ring bearer (who really didn't want to be the ring bearer, he even told the photographers).

I tell you what, though, on Thursday, we left Sioux Falls to head to Minneapolis, and about half an hour away from home, my car decided to die on us. Yeah. Not cool. We coasted into a small town, and sat at an auto shop for about an hour and they told us we should probably call the bride and tell her we weren't going to make it. I started crying... and well, Jake took care of things. His mom came and picked us up, and his best friend's mom let us borrow her car for the weekend.

My wonderful husband was kind enough to chauffer the bride and I to the hair appointment, and then the church, and though he didn't have an official job after that, until the reception, he found plenty to do to be helpful and keep busy.

Therefore... he didn't really take any photos. Ah well. Here's one from the bride's little sister, of Michelle and I. It'll do for now.

My dress fit, despite the pregnant belly and boobs (Jake had to pin the front of the dress to my bra, but hey, I didn't flash anyone) so that was fantastic.

The entire day was a lot of fun, but completey exhausting. I bet I fell asleep promptly at 12:05.

Saturday, we joined the newlyweds for gift opening and brunch, and following, met up with Jake's best friend. We asked him to take a few photos of us so that we had a recent one to put in our baby book. He is a new aspiring photographer, and hadn't really photographed people before, so it was a fun experience for all three of us, I think.

Here are a few of my favorites from the set (they're distorted because my drag and resize skills suck):

You can see more of my favorites by clicking this link.

After the photography session, we went out to eat at a wonderful pizza place, with our friend and his friend, and then to a one-man play called "The House Can't Stand." It was... uh... interesting. The guy played a woman telling a story about her life through her political history and past love life. I liked the first half, and then in the middle, she started to sleep with Abe Lincoln from the past brought into the future (because she was telling him about Obama)... and well, I sort of lost interest. The actor did really well, but it became really hard for me to focus and follow. Plus, my uterus was hurting, so what do you do? Truthfully, I can't tell you if I liked or disliked it.

Then the guys took us out to a wine bar.

We came back after, and I fell asleep on the couch, and eventually went to bed.

Sunday, my little brother graduated high school. Ah! He's going into the guards, and leaves in August. He won't be around for the birth of my baby! I am really proud of him, though. And at the reception, there were all of his pictures from his school career, so I got a good laugh seeing his Kindergarten picture again. It looks like he's pooping his pants.

Unfortunately, we weren't able to stay as long as I would have liked, because we had to go back to Jake's home town to drop off the borrowed car, and have his mom drive us back to our car, which was, luckily, done. The water pump needed to be replaced, and the old man quoted us $1,300 for repairs. HOLY MOLY! I about died. Jake talked to him, and it turns out he gave us the wrong quote, that was for a transmission job, and ours was much less, thankfully.

The end.

Oh wait, the internet at our place is still all sorts of crazy, despite my cousin's laptop, so I'm still not around consistently. I apologize!

A Hairy Deal.

Call it whining, or call it just being truthful, the bulk of this entry will probably come off in a negative way, even though I don't actually intend for it to.

I've always, okay, I'm already being dramatic...

I've been totally self-conscious since puberty. Yeah, I know, most teenagers are, and most probably hold onto it somewhat into adulthood. I know I'm not alone in that.

I have always been terrified that I was "part male." Why? Because I have really hairy arms (no, I don't sport other "junk" down below). I have also started putting on weight since puberty, and hated that too, and was always terrified that everyone was staring at me and judging me for being a freak. I still do, truthfully.

I learned last year that these traits that I loathe can most likely be attributed to Poly-Cystic Ovarian Sydrome, which I was told I had. While it brought some comfort, it did not bring any solace to my fear of people staring, judging, and my hatred to see these things about myself.

I finally started "showing" now, while pregnant, and feel like people aren't just looking at me as if I'm extra fat. So, that takes that away for a while, and you can bet, when I'm done being pregnant, I'm going to be working at losing weight again (which I was successfully doing up until pregnancy).

But I'm still always afraid that I'm the freak with the gorilla arms. My husband will attest to this. And now with celebrities like the "pregnant male" I'm just even more self-conscious that people are judging and snickering about it as I sport a baby belly and hairy arms.

I hate summer a little bit for this reason, every year. This year will probably be no different.


I'm in a wedding next Friday, for my best friend, as her Maid of Honor. It's funny, I know I'll look pretty all dolled up in my beautiul dress, with pretty hair. And I know her family has known me since 1991 and they all accept me and love me (or at least I like to think so) for who I am, but there are going to be people there who have never met me, and I just squirm in my shoes thinking about the stares I might get.

But, as always, I sport my proud, happy face and try to pretend I'm not self-conscious in the least.


Anyway, I don't want to end this in a negative fashion, because that's just lame.

So... a Maid of Honor speech! Ack! I haven't written one. I doubt I will. I'll probably just babble on and on and on and on and on and on.... or say something about how Michelle and I have known each other since the beginning of time, more or less, and I love her, and I'm happy for them, and you know, the usual. Maybe I'll shoot for a laugh or two. We'll see.

And I need to break in my shoes!

I'm so excited for this wedding. I haven't been excited for a wedding this much since my own (which of course, was more exciting to me, but that's because it was mine, and I know D&M don't judge me for that)! It's going to be absolutely beautiful, and I do love that it's on a Friday.

Jake will be in the congregation, but hopefully he'll get a good picture or two that I can show ya'll after it's done with.


Oh yeah, and I broke my laptop screen, with my Hercules fingers. But really, I did, with my pointer and my thumb. So I am using my new roommate's computer (Tarah, my cousin, is moving into the basement) for now, and won't be on as much as usual.

Peace.

Brides and Bachelorettes

Yesterday, I road-tripped back to the home area for my best friend of almost 20 year's bridal shower and bachelorette party. I really haven't been to too many bridal showers in my life, let alone those I enjoyed, but I was in good spirits seeing as how the bride this time was someone I love as dearly as a sister.

And I had a great time! It was fun to be there with her as she opened presents (although, as we both agree, it took forever and it's kind of lame to have people sit and watch you do so) and participate in the games her sisters planned (I won both, score wise, but I didn't tell anyone my score. I rule! You just need to be aware of that), and see some people I hadn't seen in a long time. We had some good laughs also, like, when we were unsure if someone had given her a tube of tissue paper as a gift.

Then it was the bachelorette party about an hour away. We had our nails done at a salon by her older sister's house, and since people touching my feet weirds me out quite a bit, I opted for a manicure only. I let MBF (Miss Best Friend/Michelle/Bride) pick out my polish, and she chose a color called "Black Hole." I found this amusing, since it's a shade of burgandy. Anyway, although the place was definitely basking in the fumes of chemicals and polish, it was a pretty good time, sitting there chatting and joking around with the other ladies.

Then it was my turn to get my nails done. Ack. I wasn't nervous until my little nail technician started to... well, yell, kind of, at me. Yeah. I had both hands soaking in the water! Oh no! And then, ack! I accidentally let one of my nails touch my other hand while switching it from the drying fan! It had no polish on, just a clear base coat, so I wanted to tell her to chill out, but I refrained. And then... OH NO!!!!!!!! The towel my hands were resting on started to slip from the little table when I moved my hands away, so, I thought I would be nice and just use my forearm and wrist to push it back up.

Apparently, this was the worst idea, because this little lady almost lost it. "NO DON'T DO THAT!" (Or something very similar, it was hard to understand) came out of her mouth. I was astonished that she'd be so mad, since I wasn't actually using my hands. By this point, I was sick of her yelling and snipping at me, so I continued, with some effort (partially just to drive her crazy, and partially because she freaked me out and I lost my grip with my arm on the towel), to push the towel back onto the desk. She continued to tell me not to do it, but I got it up there, and then went to dry my nails. Haha. Take that, nail lady!

The rest of the evening was a ton of fun, loads of laughter, great food, and well... games related to the male genitalia. Now, that was a little odd for me, I won't lie, because that sort of fun is totally not my personality, but I suppose, when the guest-of-honor has a last name that is somewhat pornographic, you might say, it's quite fitting.