Anniversary musings

Weddings are a big deal. In our modern culture, couples will put off the ceremony for years to save more money for the perfect dress or for all the bells and whistles. There is an effort to impress, to wow. Brides turn into bridezillas, insisting that the day is all about them.

I think that much of the reason for this is that as marriage has lost significance in our three-year-engagement, shacking-up, our-kids-can-be-flower-girls culture, the ceremony, for many, has become the marriage. Then on Monday it's back to life as they lived it before. (Well, the Monday after the Caribbean vacation dressed up as a honeymoon for the couple who has been playing at marriage for years.)

But not all weddings are like that. Some couples still fall in love, get engaged, and wait until they are joined before God and man to act like they are married. And those weddings seem to me to be especially joy-filled.

We were privileged two years ago today to have one of those weddings. Our daughter met the brother of one of my friends very briefly when he was in town before he deployed to Iraq. They communicated via computer and letter during his deployment. He came and stayed with our family a few times while on leave and after he got back. They went out on a couple of dates in November and December, and he spent Christmas with our family, then she went to Wisconsin to spend Christmas with his.

When he came for a visit for Valentine's Day, he brought a ring, and asked her father's blessing before he proposed. She said yes. And gave me six months to plan a wedding for almost 300 people.

Perhaps because everyone involved--the bride, the groom, her family, his family, the pastor--had the same understanding about what this day was about, there was no drama. This was a day about joining a man and a woman in the union that reflects the union of Christ and his bride the Church. This was a day that was about creating a new family.

And, once the ceremony was over, this was about throwing a party at which our family and friends could have an awesome time without driving her father into penury. And the bride was okay with that. She was looking forward to being married!

So we used a simple rubric to determine where we should spend money and where we should cut corners: Will this expenditure add to the enjoyment of our guests? If the answer was yes, we did it. If the answer was no, with very few exceptions, we didn't. And it was a great party. Certainly not the fanciest: paper plates and plastic cups are far cheaper than renting china and glass. The table decor was containers from thrift stores that were filled with flowers from Sam's Club by the bride and her friends. And lots of friends helped with preparations, allowing us to keep costs under control.

Am I saying that there is anything wrong with china, gorgeous flowers, etc.? Absolutely not! If we could have afforded it, I would have loved to have done things in a more elegant way. But it becomes a problem when couples put off marriage to save up for the show, or when families go into debt for a bash that they can't afford. We've been to lots of weddings over the years of all different levels of simplicity. We've been to receptions that were formal sit-down dinners at a country club and those that were snacks, cake, and punch in a church hall. They've all been lovely, but some stand out in my mind as having been permeated with a joy that comes from the fact that the vast majority of those present understand that something more significant than a legal check mark was happening there.

And today I am happy to celebrate the second anniversary of one of those. Happy anniversary, Bethany and Evan, and wishes for many many more.

Bonus: The other benefit that comes after an awesome wedding. . .

The message of clothes

I had the opportunity to do a lot of thinking about clothes today. I have lost some weight in the past year--to the point that my clothes are quite baggy--so I decided to go do some shopping, hoping to hit some clearance sales. Clothes were on my mind.

Since my shopping buddy got married and moved away last weekend, I was shopping alone, so I had lots of time to think. My first thought on the message of clothes came when I was wandering through Banana Republic, ungreeted and completely unbothered by the people working in the store--none of whom were familiar faces--while they assiduously greeted everyone else who came in and told them about the sale. I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and completely understood why I was ignored. I looked schlumpy. My two-year-old, too-big shirt and too-big cropped pants made me look more like I belonged on the "People of Walmart" site than at BR.  I wandered around the store for about five minutes, unaccosted,  and then left without seeing anything that even tempted me to try it on.

Next stop was the Land's End store at Sears. Again, ungreeted. Same was true at every store that I went into except J.C. Penney, where every employee you pass must greet you on pain of death. At Aldo I thought I was truly invisible. I even held a shoe for about a minute while the two people working conversed with each other a couple of feet away, until I left, at which point one said, "Thanks for coming in!" Whaat?!

So all of this was fresh in my mind when I saw, first, the woman in the skintight translucent white jeggings, low-cut shirt & platform shoes dragging the toddler through the mall. (Her outfit didn't say "MOM.") Then I saw the two women in scrubs complaining about the styles at Macys being boring and having no-style. (Unlike their scrubs? Sorry, when you wear scrubs in public I think you're either lazy or germy.) Then, as I was driving to my next stop I saw the kids leaving one of our local high schools on the first day of school, and remembered how carefully my friends and I chose our clothes for the first day. You knew that you were making that first impression for the school year. I was somewhat depressed by the array of long, baggy athletic shorts with sports sandals and flip-flops on guys, tight low-cut tops and the infernal jeggings on girls, and a general air of unkempt, I-don't-give-a-rip emanating from the students. Most of what they were wearing wouldn't have been allowed by the dress code at my public school--which didn't allow the much-in-vogue preppy, knee-length, corduroy walking shorts with matching tights when I was in high school--but, aside from that, it was lounge and recreation wear, not clothing for any activity of importance.

My last stop was my favorite clothing store. I haven't been there often in the last eight months because my life has been crazy. But I knew that I  would find something there to complete my thus-far-frustrated retail therapy. I used to know everyone who worked there, but last fall the entire staff turned over and there were no familiar faces today. So, schlumpy me walked in in one of my few non-Chico's outfits. I was soundly ignored. Completely. It wasn't until I walked up to one of the women with my arms full of clothes to try on that anyone paid the slightest bit of attention to me. And she turned me over to the other person who was working. Oh, honey, your numbers for the day wish that you hadn't done that.

It really was interesting. Usually I dress for shopping. Today I didn't. I wore my comfy, too-big clothes and my Birkenstocks. (Which any observant salesperson would have noticed were new. And adorable. Seriously.) I know clothes send a message. But I really wonder, when I'm out and about, how many people understand or even think about what their clothes are saying. My clothes today said that I either didn't care to, didn't know how to, or couldn't afford to dress in a flattering manner. I recognized that. I kind of knew it when I left home, but it was also part of the reason I needed to shop.

So what's the conclusion? I don't know. I just had to write it all down.