Marriage: On holding the bouquet

In my mind being a member of a bridal party means more than just holding a bouquet full of vibrant and sweet-smelling flowers while wearing a pretty dress; it also means helping create memories for the bride and groom as well as witnessing the vows made and helping the couple hold fast to those promises during their every-day life together.

But I must admit -- when my sister asked me to be her matron of honor in her wedding, I was totally psyched about two totally wedding-related things: planning and executing the bachlorette party and writing the toast/after-dinner speech.

These words for my little sister and new brother in law literally fell from my fingers and onto the page as one of my most effortless writings ever, so I'm documenting them here as a virtual memory from their beautiful day {with a sneak peak of some pictures}.

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Mike, I have to let you in on a little something.

This isn’t the first time I’ve helped my little sister get all dolled up for her wedding.



We’ve done this before.

When Jill was about four years old, she married the little red-headed neighbor boy we all adored at least four times during the course of one lazy, small-town summer.

Lucky me, today, makes the for the fifth time I’ve helped my baby sister slip into a beautiful white, flowy dress, had the pleasure of brushing the ringlets of curl surrounding her sun-kissed face away from her blue eyes.

We’ve come a long way from your backyard weddings, haven’t we Jill?



We’ve walked together through quite a few different seasons of life in so many different strides – as baby sister with an older doting sister, as older bossy babysitting sister and younger always and forever talking and talking and talking younger sister, as teenagers years apart in phases of life and finally, as adults – roommates who then grew into sister friends – my favorite by far.

While life has taken you far from your farm-town roots and you’ve grown and stretched into a lovely woman, you’re still so much the same as when we were growing up.

You’re strikingly beautiful from the inside out.

You’re personable and friendly – and you still talk and talk and talk …. And talk.

Song saturates your life like music weaves into the lines of a musical.

You’re loyalty and dedication to family has remained steadfast, acting as anchors of love to those you hold most dear.

And your silliness permeates even the longest of days, often bringing lightness to heavy situations.

I know you well, sister. And I know you’ll take bring these qualities into your marriage, lacing the ribbons of your personality into the threads of your unity with Mike.



You’ll softly beckon his attention with your beauty – the kind that makes itself known through the curves of your body and the sparkling of your blue eyes as well as the type that flows from the innermost parts of your heart.

You’ll fill the silence of your home with conversation, and most likely, you’ll remember to lend a listening ear at least sometimes.

You’ll sing into your memories songs that will and take you both back to all the firsts and middles and ends and each moment in between, giving melody and harmony and lyric to the movie of your entwined life.

You’ll bind your loyalties to the family you’re making while blending together different lives and people you both hold dear.

And you’ll induce smiles– the sprawling kind during the toughest of days, when Mike is weary and needs to breathe out the heaviness of a hard day with laughter.

I know this in the depths of my core after living with you in the same house as kids and as adults. I’ll always hold close the time we spent as adults living under the same roof – happily soaking in the nostalgia of our living room dance parties to Ice Ice Baby with the boys and our early morning coffee dates in my living room.

So here we are, standing at the edge of your new life on your wedding day, celebrating your union with the man of your dreams we’ve all come to adore.

In my mind, it’s so far and yet so close to the backyard weddings of our childhood.



But this one is different by far: this time you really become one flesh, one heart with the man whose heart you’ve captured.

It’s our last wedding day hurrah for you, sister.

But please know that as you wind your heart strings together and become one, I – and each of the people who’ve loved you along the way – will support your new unity and lovingly lend you both plenty of ribbons of support to tie into your new life together as husband and wife.

Congratulations, Mike and Jill. I love you.

Thinking, that's all: So We Dance and Sing

My baby sister is getting married in two days, and it's all starting to become very real.



These past few months we've all trying to make sorts of what that means for her and for our family and for us, I think, too.

Because after having her live here for the better part of a year, she kind of has become part of everyday life in an ever-decreasing way, and, of course, that's as it should be when a woman grows up and out and into new skin, combining her life with the man she loves.

It's as it should be, I remind myself when she's not here for dinner or whatever else.

And maybe because I'm not great with big changes, and maybe because I cling to memories with the grip of a kid grasping a beloved doll, I've been focusing more on plans and preparations for her bachlorette party and the details -- the outfits and the gifts and the speech {Oh MY WORD THE SPEECH!} and the mustaches on a stick than the actual feelings that swirl and swell in my heart when I think of my little sister getting married.

And it's very unlike all three of the weddings I officiated for her in the backyard when she was four and dolled up in the fancy, ruffled dress she wore to our dad's wedding reception saying I do to the little red-headed neighbor boy we all adored.

Like, really getting married ... to a grown man and in that union she gains a business and a home of her own and a car and babies {someday, no rush}.

And these thoughts here -- the newness of what's to be coupled with the nostalgia of a childhood that's been and a year of togetherness as adults living life in the same house, well, it's enough to leave me a little breathless, forgetting to actually soak in this moment, this here, this now.

Because just as busyness steals away the days, so, too, does living in yesterday and tomorrow.

There's a snap back to reality when G, who has been focusing his energy on the practical, too, by intently practicing his sweet dance moves every chance he gets, begs me to turn on some "boy music" {code for male singing voices} that's good for dancing.

Like Ice Ice Baby {introduced to him by a certain sister of mine}.

Thankfully, he willing rocks out when Jimmy Eat World rocks the house and sways melodically along to Death Cab for Cutie and the like .

And it's good -- this rocking, this swaying of the house by song and lyric and melody because it means that the TV is off. {Did I mention that E now sneaks off while G and I are playing or cleaning or cooking and turns on not just the TV but also Netflix? Yeah -- kid is smart.}

But, also, there's goodness because it means that we're immersed in the present enjoying the music, the movements, the beauty of right here and right now, which is where I really I want to be.



I want stand strong in all of this and soak it up -- her wedding and these long days but short years of the boys' smallness -- while it's happening instead of reliving it in fractured pieces of memories.

So we dance and sing right here, right now not just as practice for the wedding, but as practice in really living within the actual moments of both the ordinary and extraordinary days.

Everyday Life: No Strippers Please

In my very humble opinion, there are only a few things left to be done at a bachlorette party a week before your baby sister gets married {and it has nothing to do with the, erm, shaking that normally accompanies beefy male strippers. *Shudder*. Ahem.}

1. Kidnap her for a girls' weekend at Timber Ridge Lodge in Lake Geneva, Wisconsin and crown her with a plastic bedazzled tiara

1.5 feed her bonbons to soften the blow of the tiara


2. Wine and dine her ...


2.5 so that when you pull out a mustache on a stick, she protests little before giggling and posing solo

2.75 and alongside her fabulous entourage

3. Explain the placement of the crystal body art she was gifted for her, hmm, creative endeavors during the honeymoon

4. Bring her blood pressure back down by treating her to an afternoon of spa pleasures

5. Remind her that even though her heart now belongs to the man of her dreams, she'll always have a space in yours and in all the people's hearts who have loved her so much along the way.

Happy wedding, baby sister. I hope the weekend before you exchanged your vows will live in your mind always as memory of a time and space you felt totally enveloped in love.

{AND -- Why, YES, I DID craft all of those photo booth props! And I'm sharing an easy-peasy photo-booth prop tutorial tomorrow. Trust me -- you want these at your next party or girls' weekend.}

In the interest of full disclosure, Timber Ridge Lodge gifted us with the media rate for our one-night stay in a full suite during my sister's bachlorette party. We had a fabulous time in Lake Geneva and at the Lodge, and I was not compensated to say that. As always, all mentions and opinions are garnered from any outstanding experiences I've encountered. To read more about my pledge while working with companies and brands, take a peek.

Thinking, that's all: From the Sidelines

It's all a blur.



The morning after one of my good friend's wedding, she knew the truth of it on a personal level.

"You guys were right," she exhaled as we sat down for a late brunch in the hotel restaurant. "It all did go by so quickly. It was such a blur."

I smiled, nodded my head yes, recalling our own wedding, a day that swirls in my mind with memories of soft pink dresses pressed against black tuxes set to the acoustic melody of Such Great Heights, infused with hints of fresh stargazer lilies.

A blur of beautiful -- our wedding day for us, their day for them.



She'll likely recall a whirlwind of plum intertwined with silvers and teals, feathering out of her memory like the fanned peacock tails gracing the sidelines of their celebration on the grounds of the zoo.



Backdrops of lush green trees laced with sweet smells of hydrangea wafting from her bridesmaids' bouquets will probably linger in her memory.



And she definitely will remember how the stormy morning skies gave way to the late-afternoon warmth of August sun, an answered prayer uttered from the lips of many.

I've often said I mostly remember our wedding through moments frozen in time by the swift capture of a camera lens snapping shut, through feelings that embroidered themselves on my heart, smells that breezed into my brain and settled into the fabric of my memory like lavender soaks into the threads of sheets when pressed beneath a pillow, through the acoustics of a guitar and the strings of violin drifting through thick summer air, winding notes and melody around my mind like vines entwined around branches.

I piece together the day with stories collected from weddings we now attend, glimpsing flashbacks of scenes I never knew I remembered.



But, also, I order the frames of my wedding slide show together with scenes given to me from the sidelines -- the moments seen through the eyes of my best friends, my family, the people who vowed alongside us to encourage and support the vows we spoke to each other and God.

I had the honor of standing close from the sidelines of the bridal party as one of the most beautiful women I love pledged her heart to a worthy man and his to her.



And not only do I take with me remembered memories from our wedding, but I take the privilege of giving our memories of their wedding to them.



Likely, when we gather together for a shared meal in the weeks passing their wedding day, we'll give them small pieces of their day.

We'll recall how the dance floor was a constant state of movement and celebration.

We'll laugh about how we've never been to a wedding where so many tall men were passionate and intent about busting a move on the dance floor.

I'll whisper in her ear about how wide her groom smiled when the pastor welcomed him to kiss his bride and about how as the day progressed we could see them blending together into the oneness of marriage.



And piece by piece, we'll weave together our stories from the sidelines into their memories from the center stage, joining together, wedding the beauty, the love, the emotion, the blurs of moments that saturated the day they spoke their vows into reality.

{Picture of bride and groom with flower and picture the bride and groom with the bubbles were taken by my talented hubby.}

Everyday Life: A Real Photographer

Earlier this spring when my newly engaged sister asked me to capture some engagement pictures, I could only muster one response:

"But I'm not a real photographer!" I'd stammered. "I don't totally understand all the nuances of my camera. And I cannot give you a definition of the word aperture without showing what I'm talking about and using the word 'thingy.' And, you know, I sometimes shoot in automatic. And I have little artistic vision. And I can only capture in natural sunlight because flashes are big and scary and oh-my-gosh I SO cannot take your engagement photos! "



"We really want you to," she'd said, as she smiled, her blue eyes filled with sincerity.



And how can you say no to your baby sister when she's just so darn sweet and cute and the bride-to-be? {Also, she's photogenic, which really, really helps!}



So, yesterday I stepped way out of my comfort zone, charged my Cannon's battery and requested that the three of us head over to a beautiful forest preserve west of town, and I asked {demanded/begged} to meet precisely at 7:15 p.m. when the sunlight is at its absolute finest for capturing shots.



Luckily, Mike's stepmom, who is a serious, professional photographer, had already captured the love birds beautifully in an engagement session eariler in the summer, so the pressure was off and I felt much better about even attempting a session knowing they already had some lovely shots.



We giggled quite a bit as I directed them to appropriate positions for adequate sun soaking, they did the whole "I'm so in love" thing with each other and I sang them my favorite Killers' song {Smiiiile like you mean it .. wooo ooooh oooh wooo oooh oooh} } as I snapped away, switching out lenses and flipping dials on my camera that I was way too intimated to even think about touching a year ago.



And?



It was good!



We had fun! They laughed, I laughed, they kissed, they made me love love and we managed a few shots that made me tingle with excitement about their marriage {and about the awesomeness of the perfect sunlight because did I mention that sunlight is like the caffeine in the coffee, the sugar in the cookie, the money in the wallet?}.



And I kind of got to thinking that you know, maybe I am a real photographer even though I'm nowhere near professional and quite unschooled about the fanciness of the settings on my camera.



There are real writers who write with passion and conviction, delivering emotional and evocative stories without understanding the exact right spot to put a comma; and maybe so it is with photographers. Real and professional aren't actually synonyms.



Like writing, I think a good part of photography transcends the rules and rests partly on the essence of what's being captured, the authentic voice of the artist.



And, also, maybe the word 'real' when placed in fron of a noun is a lot less defining and a lot more confining than I orginally thought.