Sunday, December 15, 2002
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Sunday, December 15, 2002 |
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A holiday wedding By MARY JANE HOLT It was around 8 p.m., about two months prior to the wedding, when the call came. "Aunt Mary Jane, I need you to write our vows." I was caught off guard. I thought wedding vows were in little books that preachers kept at their fingertips. "I'm not sure I can write your wedding vows." "Yes you can." I take vows seriously. Pretty words don't mean squat if you don't mean what you are saying. I was not happy about this appeal from my niece. We talked a while longer before I agreed to give the assignment a shot. As I prepared for bed that night, the seriousness of such a request gripped me. Unable to sleep, I went to the computer and there in the wee hours of the night and morning, the words came. I e-mailed them to the bride-to-be before dawn. Perfect, exactly what they wanted, came the response. Such was the limit of my involvement in the preparation for the spectacular event that took place on Saturday night, December 7, 2002. In the preceding months, I had felt left out. All my siblings and dozens of strangers were more involved than I in the planning and preparation. I could hardly wait for Friday morning when we would go down a day early for the wedding. On Saturday morning a special brunch was planned. It would be my first opportunity to really feel like I was a part of everything. Approximately 30 women were in attendance. The room was elegantly decorated. The food was awesome. Service was great. As the meal was winding down, the bride stood and walked toward a table of gifts in the corner of the room. She began to pass out the lovely packages to the ladies who had assisted her in some way in preparation for her big day. All the attendees received at least one gift. Some had three set before them before my present was placed in front of me. I was actually afraid I was not going to receive anything since I had done nothing to help prepare for the special day. I hastily opened my package to find the Angel of Courage, one of a series from the Willow Tree collection by Demdaco. I had been remembered. And so poignantly. I was happy. And tearful and ashamed, that I had felt like a little child watching others get more than me, and feeling afraid that I was going to be left out. When the brunch ended, the bride was immediately off to have her hair done. All activity suddenly accelerated. The countdown had begun. About two hours later, a relative stuck her head into the room where I was at my sister's house. "We just had a call from Michelle. She said for you not to leave here until she can see you. She's on her way." We were about to head back to the hotel and change clothes. But we waited. Momentarily, the car came flying down the driveway. The maid of honor was driving. Michelle jumped out of the vehicle with two feet of ringlets and an exquisite veil streaming down her back, reached quickly into the back seat of her car, and came up with three gifts. Big gifts. All tied together with red and gold and purple and green ribbons. It was a huge, beautiful package of presents with a magnificent bow. Attached was a note: "Thank you for our vows." Then she leaned over and whispered, "When you die I want all this back. Put it in your will." Not only was I getting more than all the others. I was receiving something the bride wanted very much for herself. I fought tears all the way back to the motel. It was late that night, after the wedding, before I found the courage to open my gifts. I cried again when I found the boxes held the nativity scene from Willow Tree, complete with all the wise men, and the shepherd with his animals. Even the lovely star drop I had repeatedly admired in stores this season was there. It is Monday morning. The display already has found a prominent spot in my living room, along with the Angel of Courage. Beside her are Angels of Caring, Healing, and Summer all three gifts received earlier this year from special people. All pieces will be kept out year round. I want to be reminded forever of the lessons they hold.
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