My wedding day

I was the little girl who dreamed of one day marrying a Prince (he didn't have to be handsome or charming, just hold the title that would make me a Princess). I had a white pillow case that I would use as a veil, and Mom's clogs (the real wooden kind) were my high heeled shoes. I loved how they made the clicking noise on the ground as I balanced for each step.


I would pick flowers (dandelions) from our front yard to form a bouquet, and hum to the tune of "Here comes the bride" as I walked down our sidewalk to the driveway.


I told myself that when I grew up, I'd buy the fluffiest wedding dress to get married in. The train would be longer than Princess Di's, and my hair would frame my face with curls (with one annoying tuft of hair that I'd have to keep blowing off my nose). I would have the biggest, most brilliant bouquet of roses and daisies......and the Church would have the loudest organ. My father would smile upon me proudly as he gave me over to my awaiting Prince. Oh yes, I spent many hours planning each detail of my fairy-tale wedding day.


I was convinced that a good marriage always began with an elaborate wedding day.


God sure has a funny way of teaching what is truly important in life......


I became pregnant at 19 years of age. I had been dating my boyfriend for just under a year, and we had begun to discuss marriage just the week before. He was facing at least 18 months of military duty for his country, so we had planned to wait until he had fulfilled that obligation before organizing the 'big' day.


Although the baby growing inside of me changed some of the dynamics, we decided that we should continue with our plans to wait to wed. I still dreamed of my white wedding, and a baby bump just didn't jive with that picture.


My husband left to begin his military duty in the Czech Republic when I was 6 months pregnant. We wrote to each other and spoke on the phone once a week. Those 3 months were the hardest 3 months of my life as I faced each day alone and pregnant. It was in that timeframe that it became clear to both my husband and I that marriage was something that should happen sooner rather than later.


After a 24 hour flight, my fiance was picked up at the airport by my father, and sped to the hospital where I was in active labour with our first born. He arrived at my bedside and looked every bit the part of the Prince I had always dreamed of. I was in tears apologizing that I couldn't hold off on the birth in order to say our vows before the baby arrived. (I was induced for medical reasons)


My wedding day finally arrived....eight days after giving birth to our son. I was not dressed in white, it was actually a pale green maternity dress--I couldn't fit into the 'regular' clothes yet. I did not have a brilliant bouquet, but it did have roses (5 to be exact)...the church had a large organ, but it was not played on that day. There were a total of 6 people in attendance, and the entire ceremony took less than half an hour. Our newborn son slept the whole time, covered head to toe in white--we both recognized he was the true 'pure' gift that day for us.


My pictures were taken by my father on a disposable camera (and were ready within one hour!). There were no details about my day that even remotely resembled the fantasy I built up during my childhood. There was something, however, that made my day even better.....love.


God so loved us, He blessed us even though we were sinners.


To this day, the Priest who married us tells the story of our wedding as a sermon. He has yet to preside over another wedding that was so full of joy, peace and love as the one that occured 10 years ago last May 30th.