I waited 43 years. Almost. 

And when it finally came, the day felt surprisingly ordinary. 

I woke up in a largely empty house—most of the furniture had already been moved.  But I still made the girls load the dishwasher. They thought that was cruel and unusual considering what day it was. But a dirty dish is a dirty dish…even on your wedding day. 

The weather was about ten degrees warmer than promised just a few short weeks before. Not a welcome turn of events for my very Charleston wedding. 

The engraved glass bottles with bamboo lids that we had planned to fill with ice cold tea and lemonade as a gift for our guests had been exploding as they were filled. We had to give up on that particular party favor even though it killed me. I guess that’s better than killing unsuspecting guests. 

Curtis was exhausted from the weeks leading up to the wedding that he had spent trying to give Peaceful Way a face lift. He had been painting, trimming, fixing, oiling, moving, cleaning, sorting, and generally wearing himself out physically and emotionally. Because that’s what hard working men do sometimes. 

Our venue had refused to let us finish some of our set up and decor…I’ll leave that for another day. But I felt bad for a friend who had donated considerable time and energy trying to make the huge tent into a beautiful space only to be told she couldn’t carry out her plan.  

I had stayed up until midnight re-writing the seating chart and a speech for our reception. 

All that to say, it didn’t feel exactly magical. 

But as Curtis and I often said to each other, “this is real life.”

And when it comes down to it, I’d rather have the rugged beauty of the real than the imaginary beauty of a fantasy life. 

Maybe that’s what 42 years in boot camp will do for you. 

My sisters and bridesmaid friends were wonderful. They prayed with me. Cheered for me. Let me feel special in their own ways. All of them are seasoned wives and mothers and fairly unflappable. Thank goodness. 

Because the disappointments were not entirely over as the clocked ticked closer to ceremony time. A vendor let us down. A few of our special effects didn’t work in the end. My ring-bearer nephew almost made me turn into a bridezilla when he refused to do what he was told. Some of our technology went AWOL.  The programs I worked so hard on never got handed out. Two of our friends left the wedding sick from the heat. 

Someone told me, “a year from now, you won’t remember all the things that went wrong.”  

Guess what?  It’s been a year… and I still do. 

But that isn’t all I remember. 

Not at all. 

I remember the beautiful sound of the voices of the group “Selah” carrying across the lawn singing “Before the thrown of God above, I have a strong and perfect plea…”

I remember taking my dad’s arm and getting ready to walk down the aisle in front of four hundred of our friends and family—some who came from across the country and some who came from around the world. 

I remember handing my bouquet to my sister and taking Curtis’ strong hands. 

I remember him looking into my eyes and singing to me, “You make me Better.”

I remember meaning every word of the vows I said. 

I remember him picking me up and feeling like it might have been a good idea for me to sew tread on the back of my wedding dress just in case. 

I remember smashing cake in Curtis’ face because…there were a bunch of people watching and I felt like I had to do something. 

I remember the coolness of the reception hall and the calmness of violin music. A wave of peace washed over me. Hopefully no more guests would be going home sick.  

I remember getting up to say thanks and feeling very, very blessed for the community that had stood beside us through this huge transition in life. 

I remember sharing the words from our processional, “And should this life bring suffering, Lord, I will remember; what Calvary has bought for me, now and forever…God, You’re so good. God, You’re so good to me.”

I remember having peace in my heart as the sunlight faded and the final hugs were given.  

Because I never felt like this day was about me. 

And this is real life.  

And God was good. 

The pictures lie. I’m kinda glad they do. It’s fun to page through an album and see a beautiful day on the bank of the Ashley River forty two years in the making. The picture of Curtis holding me under a mossy oak turned out to be my favorite—we were both genuinely smiling (and he would never drop me).

But I guess I feel the need to post this disclaimer along with the pictures because I want to tell the brides and brides-to-be out there to enjoy their “real” and not live for the fantasy.  

Marriage is real life.  Whether your wedding day feels magical or not, sooner or later, real life will set in. You can choose to focus on the frustrations and disappointments or you can choose to be thankful for the good.  You will have both, but your life will take on the flavor of which ever one you focus on. 

One year ago began the most beautiful season of life yet. I meant every word when I said my vows.  I mean every word of what I’m telling you now. 

I love my real life. 

God, You’re so good.  You’re so good to me.