The eldest son married the love of his life last weekend. And of course, I can’t go without at least commenting on the lessons learned from this rustic West Texas affair…

1. Supposedly, the “groom’s side” is easier to plan and execute. However, that is probably based on the premise that you don’t house the wedding guests in the same town as Texas Tech in May. How do you feel about red and black wedding colors, really?
2. Apparently, the cost of renting a rehearsal luncheon space for about 3 hours requires a student loan from the government. I am in the wrong business.
3. It only takes a weekend at the Reserve, a chainsaw, grubby clothing, an Amish Hardware Store in Ohio, Oriental Trading, and 7 more mason jars to create rehearsal luncheon centerpieces. Oh, and 2 willing-to-be-slaves sister-in-laws and an equally willing niece.
4. They don’t sell Mason jars in packs of 7 or singly…only in dozens. Grr…
5. Bring insect repellent, ear protection, work gloves and safety glasses to get the wedding guest book. Let’s just say the hubby and I used muscles we’ve never used before.
6. Even though the attire is casual for the rehearsal and ensuing luncheon, please advise the groom that gym shorts are not part of “casual” even in Texas.
7. Be on the lookout for wild prairie dogs and pesky tumbleweeds on your way to the venue.
8. A smart mother of the groom would confirm the time of delivery for the rehearsal luncheon.
9. I never said I was smart. Okay…so I haven’t said it in the last 5 minutes.
10. Your decorating “slaves” are far more creative than your “vision.” Pay them extra next time.
11. Catering dollars in the country go farther than in the big city.  Closer to the food source?
12. The “slaves” will gladly pack up your decor leftovers for a slightly higher fee. They take hugs as a form of payment. There is a God in Heaven.
13. Only trust your fancy wedding purse with your brother. It matches his belt buckle.
14. The brother, because he knows you, will inquire if he should bring a dolly for your purse.
15. Allow extra room in the wedding budget for physical therapy for your brother post-wedding.
16. The youngest son will actually shave and get a haircut if it’s for a wedding.
17. I plan to have family weddings every six months from now until he’s 30. I have plenty of adopteds “in the pipeline.” See # 16.
18. Even if you have 3 hours to get dressed for the wedding, you won’t get time for a nap.
19. They need to make SUVs in wedding dress size.
20. Your best opportunity to get to know the mother of the bride will be in the car on the way to the wedding, provided you don’t hit any prairie dogs on the way.
21. Just because the bride’s dressing room says that it has air conditioning does not mean it will work while housing 7 bridesmaids, 2 flower girls, 2 mothers, 2 photographers, 1 videographer, 1 bride and a partridge in a pear tree.
22. You REALLY get to know each other when it’s 81 degrees in the bride’s dressing room.
23. Renting a new car doesn’t mean it’s reliable wedding transportation. Ask the groom.
24. Even if the rental car comes with a jack, that doesn’t mean the jack works.
25. Superman status goes to the father of the groom for getting the car back on the jack, changing the tire, getting tire replaced, and doing a wardrobe change in the tire store restroom and still managing to look dashing.
26. Relatives from far-off Midwestern states who went to great lengths to not miss another family wedding will miss it because THEIR rental car tire is being replaced.
27. We need better roads in West Texas. Or maybe better rental cars. Or tires.
28. Just because there is a PA system at the venue, does not mean it works well with West Texas wind. Even the Chicago wedding guests were impressed with the “windage.”
29. Even if the venue is in the middle of nowhere, two duallys will go right by the “altar” while the vows are being said. I’m pretty sure their mufflers need replacing.
30. It’s easier to say your wedding vows if your veil is not being blown into your mouth.
31. Beware of the flower girls. They may look harmless, but they can pelt you with rose petals.
32. Bring sunglasses to all outdoor sunset weddings in West Texas.
33. Leave your wedding gift in the back of the red pickup. No. Not kidding.
34. Sign the guest log. Seriously. It’s a log….slice. See # 5: 
35. Enjoy the reception in the barn. Yes, the barn.
36. Barns can be really pretty in Texas.
37. The best dancer at the wedding will be your two-year-old great nephew. He’s my favorite dance partner. Shhh. Don’t tell the hubby.
38. The next best dancer at the wedding will be your twenty-two year old son. Unfortunately, without the facial hair and longer hairstyle, everyone will mistake him for the groom.
39. The groom hates dancing in front of people, but he tells great jokes while doing so.
40. The mother of the bride will tear up when she hears she is doing her mother-daughter dance to the tune, “You Are the Wind Beneath My Wings.” Okay…so everyone teared up.
41. Your family pics will be taken in front of a train freight car. Yes, a train freight car.
42. You will be forever proud with your eldest son who breaks from his normal, practical tradition and sends two beautiful cards to the bride and her mother before the ceremony.
43. You will be even more impressed that you didn’t have to tell him to do that.
44. You will marvel at your daughter and son-in-law for balancing bridesmaid and groomsman duties with nursing a baby, changing diapers, soothing said baby and helping the mother and father of the groom. Do they take hugs as a form of payment???
45. You will be astounded by the maturity of your youngest who graciously and quietly did all that was asked of him and more!
46. You will be even more impressed that you didn’t have to tell him to do that.
47. This wedding must have been a big deal, because the week after Blue Bell did this: 
48. The sober end of the crowd will dance more than the drinking end. Surreal, but true.
49. Praise God for choosing to let you be a mom when you didn’t think that was possible.
50. Forget May 14th…this was MY Mother’s Day this year.

Warning: Get a beverage first.

Most anniversaries are happy events. I felt this way for many, many years. But as I age, I am learning, all too painfully, that there will be more and more anniversaries that will be sad and yes, painful. As I write this, a year, to the day, has passed since the onset of heart attack # 3 for me. This day marked the beginning of what turned into a painful year. Here’s why:

June 10th – My valiant attempts to ward off another heart attack are in vain and I find myself, in the middle of the night, on an emergency helicopter flight to a Fort Worth hospital.

June 17th – After being home only a few days from my Fort Worth hospital stay, heart attack # 4 rears its ugly head and I, once again, can’t stave it off with aspirin and nitroglycerin. Another helicopter flight and another stay in the hospital. This heart attack was different in a multitude of ways and the first one where I really thought I wouldn’t survive.

June 27th – My youngest son’s last birthday as a teenager. While a joyous time, it was difficult because even a brief time outside in the Texas heat worked on my heart in a negative way.

July 2nd – My brother’s birthday and the anniversary of my mother’s death. Since the latter occurred on my brother’s birthday, we, as a family, have always sought to make it less somber by going to watch the Rangers play baseball. I still wasn’t sure if I could handle the heat, but with the help of my family, I made it. It’s my brother’s last birthday celebration.

August 2013 – The youngest leaves for college; the middle child starts her last year of grad school; the oldest is promoted and moves to a new home; the latter’s dog comes to visit for an extended period of time and I find out, quite surprisingly, that I will be giving myself stomach shots twice a day every day and that I have a blood clot in my heart, putting me at risk for a stroke. I have to eat a very strange diet during this time.

September 2013 – Partially to keep myself from going insane and partially because I believe in keeping my promises to God, I arranged for 10 of my friends and I to attend Women of Faith. It was a tearful event, basically because I couldn’t believe I was still alive.

October 2013 – Two of my friends are diagnosed with breast cancer and unfortunately, neither one of them were diagnosed as Stage 1. But the best news is that they seem to be doing fine and hanging in there just as I knew they would.

November 2013 – My last Thanksgiving with my brothers together in my home. We knew my brother was having to really slow down while eating, but he had been checked out earlier and the fall and the doctor had pronounced him healthy.

December 2013 – My brother was diagnosed with esophageal cancer. Christmas was poignant to say the least and my research told me he was fighting an uphill battle at best. He arrived at my house with his head shaved and hat on, feeling it would be easier to take baldness if he had some control over it in the beginning. Again, without knowing it, it was my last Christmas with him.

January 2014 – My brother is in and out of the hospital repeatedly with complications, despite trying to be meticulous in following his doctors’ instructions.

February 2014 – My brother makes the decision to “pull the plug.” He moves to hospice care.

February 27th – My other brother and I tell my brother it’s okay for him to go. His breathing grows farther and farther apart. It’s my last time to see him.

February 28th – My brother dies.

March 8th – My brother’s memorial service. It’s a time of laughter and fond remembrance, but it is still difficult for all those who attended.

March 9th – May 5th – My other brother and I clean out my brother’s home and say goodbye to “the House of Tears” as my other brother calls it.

May 9th, 10th and 11th – My daughter graduates with her master’s degree and those festivities are quickly followed by Mother’s Day. While I am so, so grateful to see her graduate with all of her friends, the brother who always celebrated those graduations with us and often celebrated Mother’s Day with us, is painfully absent.

While I’m grateful to still be walking and talking, I am squelching tears as I write this. I know, all too well, from having grieved other family and friends who have already gone on to Heaven, that this coming year will be difficult for me simply because I have a few more “anniversaries” to get through. And I also know that more and more things of this nature will probably continue to take place. At my age the passing of friends and family is simply inevitable. It will happen with more and more frequency and more and more depth of pain.

With this reality ever present now, I do my best to remind myself that I am one blessed woman. Grief and tears are actually a blessing. They are an indication that we love a lot and have been loved. It’s an acknowledgement that my joy will never be complete until it’s my turn to journey to Heaven. And I am blessed to be an American, live in a nice home, in a nice town, with plenty of comfort. I’m blessed to still be surrounded by a wonderful husband, wonderful children and a wonderful extended family and great friends.

Even so, if I don’t smile as much this year, if I don’t crack jokes as much on MIP this year, if I seem a little preoccupied this year, you’ll have to forgive me–I don’t do grief well.

I know I have much to learn in this phase of my life and probably the most significant thing to learn is to still smile, to still celebrate, and to still cherish those whose presence I’m still privileged to enjoy. Thank you all for giving me a reason to smile, to celebrate and to cherish.

Friday’s Post: God’s Sick Reading List…

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I am not a song composer. This fact really saddens me, because a good part of my life has been spent living Glee. The reality is that my voice is average, at best, and that I have no talent writing music or song lyrics. Thankfully, someone else is talented at all of this. His name is God. And occasionally, He chooses to write a song lyric or a post or a poem when I’m not “looking.” He did this one Saturday morning in late March, which is really irritating. Because I hate mornings with a passion and am a chronic night owl. But, I have learned, through the years, that if the Muse (aka God) wants to write in the middle of the night or in the early morning hours, I am better off getting up and jotting down what He is composing in my head (It will be gone when I wake up later.). How do I know it came from Him? It’s simply eloquent in a way I can’t write. I have often said that I am the pen and God is the writer. Here is what I think may be proof of that–a simply lyric that I hear in my head sung by professional male opera singers (Weird, because I “hear” this lyric as a folk or a country tune!), preferably 3 baritones. And even weirder because it’s written in honor of a woman, but from the perspective of men!

But, I do have a favorite songwriter in mind to put this lyric to music for me and I hope it makes him extremely wealthy. He would deserve that! If I have written this lyric, that probably won’t happen, but if God did the writing, who knows?! And no…I do not think this song is about me, but I hope it reflects the thoughts of 3 men somewhere for the daughter, wife and mother that get to call “theirs.”

Father:

I call your name
And you instantly come runnin’.
You leap to my arms
With abandon and great huggin’.
I can’t explain how
I love those small arms,
But all I know is I’m glad
To be your man.

Husband:

I call your name
And you instantly come runnin’.
You kiss my day
Far away and keep on workin’.
I can’t explain how
I love your sweet ways
But all I know is I’m glad
To be your man.

Son:

I call your name
And you instantly come runnin’.
You touch my head
And hug me tight
Until the hurt quits on hurtin’.
I can’t explain how I love
Your calm voice,
But all I know is I’m glad
To be your man.

All:

We are the men
Who have loved you on sight
And as we watch you,
Your love for us shows with
Surprising gentle might,
Our love only grows
As you fight each good fight.

All:

And so, our darling,
We live in your light,
For we are the men
Who still love you tonight.

Monday’s Post: So, just what is a thimblerig?

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