Last month Greg, my younger son, married his lovely fiancée. I looked forward to the celebration with great joy, Katie being as sweet and precious a prospective daughter as I could have hoped.
Mere hours before the rehearsal, though, we almost had to postpone the whole wedding.
My nail polish.
Come on, this is serious. I was packing for a two-day stay in Denton and simultaneously trying to enhance my glamour factor.
Being a total klutz at nail polish (it’s right up there with hot surfaces), I fixed my toes first. A coral-pink shade topped by a glitter layer which, if I do say so, looked pretty fetching. Then, while I was practiced up, I tackled the fingers. Knowing my klutziness, I chose a sheer, opalescent shade for my hands. If I can’t get all the stray polish off my fingers, it doesn’t show up too badly.
Being left-handed, applying nail polish with my right hand is, to say the least, awkward. So I did my left hand first. Then I allowed plenty of time for it to dry, so I wouldn’t mess up my left hand trying to polish the right-hand nails.
Meanwhile Eric, my firstborn and Greg’s best man, arrived from Killeen and offered to drive me to Denton. Oh good. I can just put the polish on my right hand in the car.
So I ferried my suitcase and hanging clothes to the car, in between rushing around to grab almost-forgotten items. When it was time to leave, I could not find my sheer nail polish anywhere. I had packed the coral and glittery ones, along with a bottle of clear polish, in case my toes needed repair. But where was the pretty opalescent stuff? Gaaah! I had to leave with only one hand manicured.
This was an unmitigated disaster. Because it’s all about how the mother of the groom looks, right?
Eric and I found the wedding venue, decorated the tables for the dinner, and went to our hotel to change.
Once at the hotel, I made do using some of the clear polish to remove the beautiful opalescent polish from my left hand. Then I managed to apply the coral stuff (no glitter) without getting any of it on my fingers… at least, not past the first knuckle. Fine. I’ll just keep my hands moving so if they are in a photo, they will be blurry.
Brent joined us in due time. The rehearsal went great and the dinner ran smoothly. Smoother than my nails, I can tell you. On the wedding day, the family and all the guests gathered. Brent escorted me to our seats. Moments later, my handsome son stood at the front of the crowd with a stunningly beautiful Katie and their worship pastor. Suddenly Greg seemed to morph from a young man into a skinny third-grader. Do all moms feel this way when their kids marry? I blinked, and he was a grown man again, love and commitment in every aspect of his face and voice.
What a marvelous weekend, working on decorations together, getting to know Katie’s family better, sharing these two who now belong to all of us as well as to each other. My family keeps growing. What a blessing!
Hm… maybe a wedding isn’t all about how the mother of the groom looks.
Thanks for reading,
I hope you’ll join me for coffee over at Rachel Anne’s Company Girls.
Also, some of my friends are sharing tales of summer renewal, refreshment or release. I’m linked up with them at the Soli Deo Gloria party.