ABOUT WEDDINGS - The Ceremony

PART FIVE

Mitch recovered from the shock of learning that Guber (gas golf cart) could not be used to move the disabled. The few who initially had been scheduled for his helping hand stood by waiting to be safely escorted down the grassy aisle to the front seats.  I’m one of this group, who graciously accepted Mitch’s arm to be sure no embarrassing accidents occurred with my entrance.

The Groom’s Mother, Nora, elegant in plum chiffon, escorted by his Father, Terry, smiled with pride as she took her seat near where her son stood.  Other family members were seated as well. Steve Dee, Heather’s Uncle, with his guitar tuned and eager to begin, took his seat near the back and began strumming softly to add the mood and rhythm for the moment.   The Minister, Groom, and Best Man took their positions. As the melody lifted on the wind, the Mother of the Bride stepped into sight, and began her stroll down the aisle. Escorted by Robyn, Tracey took her seat on the front row.

Bridesmaids, Elizabeth Turner, Tasha Cox, and Elizabeth Quick, wearing chiffon knee length dresses in colors of purple, plum, and pink, with silver slippers and carrying bouquets of Calla Lilies, took their places near the archway. Groomsmen, Paul, Ryan, and Gregg in black with blue, plum, and purple ties, a gift of the Groom, moved into their position.  Maid of Honor, Mandy Morice, wearing a chiffon knee length dress in royal blue with silver slippers, carrying a bouquet of Calla Lilies, preceded her sister down the aisle. The proud Father of the Bride, Jim Morice, stepped forward to escort his daughter.  With his heart visibly overflowing with love for his first-born, he smiled and reached his hand in support.

Heather slipped her arm through her Dad’s and stepped out of the shadows of the barn as the Minister asked the guests to rise to greet the Bride. Radiant with joy, she moved slowly down toward her future. A simple ankle-length white satin dress with a full tulle skirt, sweetheart neckline and fitted bodice, a drop waist gem-decorated ribbon, and slippers of silver were chosen by Heather as her bridal attire. A subtle revelation of her unpretentious, elegant style.   Continuing the simple theme, her long hair, swept up in a bun, accented with small gem-studded flowers and capped by the waist-length veil of white tulle, reflected golden threads of light as she moved in the sunlight. Eyes filled with devotion, she turned from her Dad to stand before Nathan and repeat her vows.

As with all things Heather, the vows were atypical, written by her with sweetness and candid truth. Likewise, Heather wrote Nathan’s vows, cute at times, with phrases like “I’ll reach boxes from high shelves for you.”  When asked days earlier why she wrote Nathan’s vows, Heather replied, “I didn’t want to hear ten minutes of short jokes!”

With the brief ceremony over and the tender kiss in the past, the Minister pronounced the couple as one, husband and wife, Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Turner.  As all Weddings end the same, still this one seemed different. The sun dropped behind the barn, and in this vast chapel of outdoor wonder, the moon already high in the sky became brighter as it assumed the major roll of ruling the night. The couple swept up the aisle with the confidence they could meet any challenge together.

As evening shadows surrounded the guests moving toward the reception area, the photographer, Kelly, cousin of the Bride, discovered the photo op before the wedding yielded unacceptable pictures for memories.  Taken with the sun in their faces, the results were flawed with closed and squinting eyes.  Now, in spite of how carefully they planned to avoid delaying the reception, the photo op must be repeated.

I could hear my tummy rumble as the light lunch had been hours ago. Definitely distracted with the aroma of country cooking floating into the reception area, I found a place to relax at a table and joined in conversation with guests.  It could be a long time before the serving began.  People being who they are, waiting for food could be a bad sign with the treated drinks flowing like Niagara Falls.  Robyn came to check on me and delivered lemonade that did calm my hunger and thirst for a few moments.

 I looked around the cabana area at the décor and how appropriate the candles and table arrangements were for the rustic theme of the wedding.  Lights were strung and came on as darkness fell into the shadows.  Bales of hay, cut from the fields, lined the walls of the barn to provide additional seating. Purple, blue, plum, and white décor in the form of flowers, butterflies, candles, created and prepared by Heather, Nathan’s grandmother, and great aunt, provided soft pools of light adding to the festive mood. The pinnacle of a lovely theme, with rhythm flowing through each carefully orchestrated event of the week.

It seemed like hours, but actually was only minutes, when my turn for the photo op surfaced.  To avoid the long walk, they used the reception corridor where the decorated walls made a colorful background for the photos.  Finally, when every possible configuration of family unit had been photographed, the call to be served dinner drifted through the crowd of guests. 

Being very hungry with too many choices is always a dangerous diet don’t.  “Robyn, just bring me a plate with food,” I said, as I maneuvered my walker back to my table.  With friendly folk all around, the evening hummed with stimulating conversation and laughter. A family reunion, not one family, but several with ties to Heather and Nathan.  I met guests from Illinois, Idaho, California, Florida, Arizona, New Mexico, Louisiana, and of course, Oklahoma, all with one common bond, Best Wishes for Nathan and Heather.

With everyone fed and happy, watching the newlyweds enjoy interacting from table to table visiting with their guests instead of the typical “receiving line” and quick exit, exposed a feeling of closeness that may be inherent to rural living. City dwellers lose that innocence of just being yourself. Speaking of being yourself and in a spirit of levity, a battle of tiny marble sized balls began to be thrown back and forth.  The balls were a part of a unique votive candle light arrangement that fascinated all the guests. They soon wearied of the impromptu pleasure after spreading the soft gel balls all around the area.

Later, the traditional list to check off, the first dance, (Nathan says, I don’t dance, and Heather doesn’t want to dance), so on to the next; the cake routine is always cute and messy, but especially original at this wedding.  Four cakes baked and decorated in white with butterflies of her chosen colors, were displayed on plates made from rough-hewn logs. A few inches deep, they were placed at different levels of display, with the smallest at the highest point to display a most exclusive “cake topper” depicting the musical talent of the couple (miniatures of Nathan holding a trombone and Heather holding percussion mallets). They had great fun with posing for photos, and the cake, baked by Nathan’s sister, Elizabeth, was delicious.

The Best Man, Gregg, took charge of the toast that traditionally appeals to the wedding party, and another great photo op.  To finish the list, the throwing of the bouquet (caught by Mandy, Heather’s sister), the pitched garter (caught by Mandy’s boyfriend, Mitch), and then, the obvious, “Okay, when is the next wedding?”

Nathan and Heather planned to leave on Sunday for a hiking trip in Colorado.  So with no moment of departure to break up the reception, the older folks, without exception, began to express exhaustion, “It’s past my bedtime.” Tracey’s parents were leaving for the hotel.  Tasha and I joined them to drive the long thirty-five miles.

As we drove away, I looked back over the scene. No doubt they would work into the morning trying to bring reality back to the farm after this long week of building a magic moment for the newlyweds.  But when the last I is dotted, the last T is crossed, they will lean back, relax, and confirm, “It was all worth it.”

 I looked out over the prairie bordering the roadway into Woodward.  The full moon dominated the night with a silvery bath reflecting beauty where none would be found in the sunlight, and shadows hiding beauty that would rule in the morning light.  Everything is relative.  And I remembered being young, unafraid, invincible…  The wise man said, “To everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under Heaven.” 

“Nathan, Heather, Don’t waste your time or lose your purpose.  Life is short, and youth soon vanishes.”

Finally, ABOUT WEDDINGS, PART SIX -  PHOTO OP