Spring comes early in Texas. Often the daffodils are blooming in the latter part of February. Each bloom comes out in turn, from crocus to daffodil to redbuds and, don’t forget the state flower, the bluebonnet. (Is there a family in Texas that doesn’t have a portrait of their children romping in the bluebonnets?) While March has more than it’s share of showers, wind and cloudy skies, April is the month of pure glory between the gusty winter and the blazing summer. And so it was the month I dreamed of being wed in.
As timing would have it, April was a near impossibility. So we settled on a date in May, after the university students would be gone for the summer and schedules were a bit more manageable. My groom had already purchased a house within walking distance of the university that he served. And it was a sweet first home for us. The groom spent months getting the house ready, having the pretty maple floors refinished and shined up like a basketball court. He even hung a bench swing from the tree in the front yard.
Deposits were paid to secure the festive locations, and all the little details were coming together. I was busy finishing up my studies for a December graduation and searching three states for the perfect dress. Progress toward the big date was going as planned. That is, until November.
In early October a job listing came out, and seeing the great opportunity in it, the groom brought it up for consideration. I saw the excitement of the opportunity and encouraged the groom to apply. Saying nothing to the groom, I somehow knew that the groom would get the job if he applied. It would mean a move to a new place, far from Fort Worth, but that sounded like an adventurous way to start our new life together.
The call came on the day before Thanksgiving. We would have the long weekend to think it over and pray about it. If he accepted, he would be needed in Indianapolis as soon as possible. There would be moving costs covered by the new employer, but there could only be one move for the two of them. As is often the case, circumstances did much to dictate scheduling. It was evident that the wedding would have to be moved. It just wasn’t practical to come back for the wedding two and half months after the move.
A new date was chosen, March 6, and all of the arrangements were changed. The country club hall was not available for the new date, so the reception was moved to the church. Somehow that was appropro as we had met in the fellowship hall of the church where we would wed (which happened also to be the same church that employed the groom). Perhaps it was the hand of God, but everything fell into place.
The wedding day was overcast and rainy, the sun only occasionally breaking through. But the rain did stop at all the right times, and even allowed for outdoor photos. The best pictures were taken by the groom, back at the little house with a ‘for sale’ sign, underneath the redbud blooms. Ten days later, the house, the apartment and the office were packed onto a shipping trailer and the adventure began in earnest!
Twelve years, several jobs, and two kids later, we have moved again to a new state and the adventure continues!
Inspiration for this post came from: