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I woke to the rough sounds of my youngest son’s retching.
“Too much merry-making last night,” my husband muttered.
My better half has an understated way with words, and these, even laced with sleep, were delivered in his calm, matter-of-fact way, while lying within dark unfamiliar surroundings of a downtown Tulsa hotel.
“Poor Kyle. Will he be all right by tonight?.” I asked this with my mind racing ahead, thinking of that Best Man’s speech which laid crumpled on the window sill by his bed.
“Yeah. He’ll be fine.”
I needed to hear these words from my husband of twenty-five years: Shoring up life with a few comforting words — when things go bump and barf in the night — is what my husband does best.
Of course, thinking of tonight’s wedding festivities, I hope Kyle will be better than fine. I hope he will be at his tip-top ‘best’, living up to his spot in tonight’s wedding party line-up. But then, I hope we are ALL at our tip-top best, full of joy, indulging in more than a little harmless merry-making since this is my oldest son’s wedding day. Have I mentioned — somewhere in a post along the way — that at six o’clock this evening. Bryan and Amy are getting married?
So what will this day bring? Many merry-making guests dressed in their finest finery. That’s a given. Walks down the glamorous lobby aisle, which this morning, was still littered with rose petals from last night’s wedding.
To be sure, a few happy tears — courtesy of moi — to accompany the speaking of age-old vows of “better or worse.” Then lovely music. And probably some that will not seem so to my way of thinking. A first dance in a grand ballroom will follow — and a second dance between our bride and her father will lead to the third between my son and me. And if the DJ has been able to locate it, we’ll dance to these sounds of Carly Simon.
And then the “just marrieds” will cut the cakes baked by the bride’s oldest sister. a pastry chef in Kansas City. And who knows what else? Except that like the rest of life, the best moments will come unexpected and completely un-rehearsed.
I write this line thinking of Don’s mother who longed to be part of this evening’s marry-making, who instead is home in her own bed, weak as a kitten from a three-week ordeal that began in ICU and ended in a hospice center. True to the worst of life, this was not unexpected. Janice’s battle with cancer entered its ‘fourth-stage’ earlier this year — and this, solely out of love for Janice, who prefers to speak of the ‘betters’ than the ‘worst’ of life, has been one of the ‘unmentionables’ flapping around my life of late.
Better and worse. Light and dark.. Life and death.. In health and sickness — even the sort self-imposed from too much merry-making. These opposites help define one another, don’t they? And like in the case of my husband and I, who like Bryan and Amy, are a couple of “opposites-attract”, perhaps they also refine one another. And who knows but that maybe, one day, this soon-to-be married couple will regard the other as their ‘better half.’ As I do my husband.
I do I do I do.
Beautiful wedding. Enjoyed my weekend very much. Judy posted some family photos of the family. go to my profile and see the one of us.. Talk to you later. Love Jane
Jane,
Glad you and Sis were there and at Sunday’s barbecue too. We thought the after-party a perfect end to a lovely weekend. Hope Larry enjoyed his to-go gift.
Don dropped the newlyweds off at the airport earlier today so they are somewhere over the Atlantic as I write. The Best Man is house and cat-sitting for the next 12 days — so with Don at his Mom’s a good part of the time, I’m left to entertain myself. The garden offers just the ticket — especially is this lovely weather we’re having. By the way, Don’s mom continues to regain strength — I heard him say she is now able to sit up in bed and use a walker (just a little) to get around. She enjoyed seeing digital photos of the wedding — and good as their word, Amy & Bry dropped in Sunday evening to visit her.
Janell
Thank you for letting me join you.
Get well wishes sent to Don’s mother…
Ernestine,
Thanks for your kind words for Janice. To think where she was– even two weeks ago– is to regard her homecoming a miracle. Though she’s not up for the stuff of everyday life, we’re thankful she’s home — already she’s seen seven days of healing surrounded by the familiar smells and stuff of home. Meanwhile, Bry and Amy are far from home and I hope, enjoying every minute of their grand adventure. Funny how what seems grand changes with life stages.
From one homebody to another, can I say how proud I am of you for getting a passport application? Can’t way to see what comes next….
Janell
Congratulations, I so hope the day was wonderful for all!
Viv,
It was. And a little hard to dive back into day-to-day life, which of late has been a mix of gardening and stripping paint from our much painted porch. What a difference one week makes — as I stripped paint today I found myself smiling at the contrast in activities. Sort of felt like Cinderella scrubbing floors after the big ball,
But tomorrow the porch will be stripped and ready for refinishing. And the thought of this is wonderful in its own way.
Janell
Happy Wedding. No one writes like you Janell. Masterfully done. Yes, light and dark, happy and sad, in sickness in health, but with one at our side to give us just what we need when we need it most.~~Dee
Dee,
Rather than shake my head at the wonder of your encouraging words (as I did in front of my laptop just now), can I just say ‘thanks?’ Then add how strange it is that I had just decided this afternoon — while finishing up that last bit of paint stripping — that writing must not be my gift after all. For if it was, wouldn’t I be writing more? And wouldn’t I be drawn to do so — come hell or the proverbial high water?
Rather than responding to life through the written word as I once did — (and perhaps will one day do again?), I’ve been expressing my creativity by working in our new home and garden. The garden especially has been satisfying — not just to me, but to many in the neighborhood. Cars stop on Walker Avenue to admire the transformation — some park and get out of their cars to come visit — and at least one walker travels the entire corner of our lot to ensure she “doesn’t miss a thing.” The driver of one car rolled down her window to say how much fun she was having watching my garden come to life. Sometimes I feel like the host of a reality t.v. show — some days it seems more like “Survivor’ but of late — with me trying to get the garden in before the arrival of winter weather — it feels more like “The Amazing Race.”
Sitting around the table at last weekend’s wedding reception, my family was talking about this latest piece — and how I so rarely post anymore. It made me wonder whether they missed my writing. Part of me misses it. But mostly I’m just having so much fun creating a little beauty with God in the garden, that I’m okay with writing less.
Perhaps I should put out a sign on my blog header — like those “Gone Fishin” signs used long ago – that reads, “Gone Gardening?” 🙂
Janell
Well, we all do what we have to do – no question about that! But I must say, I’d miss your posts if they disappeared. Your musings and meditations on life in its fullness – and its spiritual dimensions – are grounded and earthy in a way so many others aren’t. It must be that gardening you do!
I’m home from ten days in the midwest. Mom’s buried, and my travel urges are assuaged for the time being. I’d actually thought about a little meet-up in the OKC area, but I see from this post that wouldn’t have been possible anyway, as you were “otherwise engaged”! I’m so glad all went well.
And now, it’s time for autumn. It was a thrill to see the color up north. I got as far as southern Minnesota, and their tales of winter made me long to be there to see that again, too. But I’d only do it if I could be magically transported. Winter travel is one of Dante’s circles, as far as I’m concerned. 😉
LInda,
Would have loved for you to stop by — so I’ll hope for another opportunity someday. With your love of travel, it’s bound to happen sooner or later.
Yesterday I spoke with my spiritual director about last Saturday’s thoughts on writing, including Dee’s comment that day. When he asked me how Dee’s comment made me feel, I said something like — well, besides it making me feel nice, it sort of made me feel like I was playing a part in that movie with Cher where she looks at her co-star and says, “Snap out of it.” Was it Moonstruck? I don’t even remember. Well, anyway, Dee’s comment made me realize that I’d lost a piece of who I was for a minute on that porch and that I needed to pick it up and snap it back in place. In other words, I’m a writer even when I don’t write. Though of course, I’ve been pretty faithful to writing morning pages everyday in my longhand journal. Perhaps I’ll settle more into writing publicly when winter cools my desire to garden. And with tonight’s temperature forecast being 35F…. can THIS be very far off???
Sounds like you enjoyed your travels north. Of course you’ve been in my thoughts ever since I read that post about you and your Mother and the needlework gift heading home to Iowa. But with your above comment about ‘magical travel’, it sounds like — at least in certain sticky winter weather situations — that you and your mother are very much alike in wanting to click your ruby slippers together and travel about without a lot of fuss.
Thanks for dropping in.
Janell