Tuesday, January 16, 2018

Over the threshold.

A few nights ago, Mr. Nielson and I were talking about our wedding day.
We talked about when we drove from our cozy wedding dinner up
 Provo canyon, to our new (not new, but new to us) old home in
downtown Provo to spend our very first night as husband and wife.
Christian pulled into the driveway of our small little nest that we
 had fixed up together.  He turned off the engine then looked at me.
We took a deep breath together- probably giggled a little too.
 Finally Christian opened his door then jumped out and ran 
to my side where he opened my door then took my hand and helped me out.
Our home sat among many other 100 year old homes
 in the Pioneer neighborhood in Provo.
The cold December sun had set and our neighbors Christmas lights were turning on.
We lived in a neighborhood that was mixed with
 BYU students (like us), young families, sprinkled with old couples, and widows.
 It was charming in many ways; close to my mom, a bakery, and the mountains.  

I was still wearing my wedding dress and Christian in his black suit (sans tie).
The steps to our home were slippery from the recent snow storm. 
Christian grabbed my hand and together we walked up to the front door.
We stood at the door and I watched as Christin's hands 
fumbled for the keys which were in the inside of his suit pocket.
Finally our large oak door opened up to the
 hallway reveling paint cans and moving boxes.
Christian looked at me then picked me up and 
cradled me in his arms then carried me across the threshold of our new home. 
I felt like my wedding day had been taken 
right our the most romantic, traditional, classic fairytale.
Just as we wanted it.
And now I'll leave story there...unless you've read my book,
then you know what happened next.  
I will admit, I am worried about weddings these days.
They are over-complicated and scripted.
It seems there is more worrying about the photos,
the make-up, the dress, the cake, and the party than creating
and enjoying real-time memories of the day.
I hope my girls remember that the importance of the day
will happen during the actual ceremony that binds
the beautiful union of husband and wife.
My wedding was beautiful and simple because it revolved around the
marriage ceremony in the temple.
My neighbor made my dress, and I sewed little purses for all my nieces
out of the extra fabric I had from the pillows I was making for our couch.
A good friend and florist created my flowers; simple and colorful
with pine tree sprigs and a velvet bow.
I didn't have my nails done, in fact I didn't even paint them.
 I wore simple pearls in my ears and to honor and remember
my Nana, I carried her white beaded clutch with lipstick
and a hankie inside.
And we invited mostly family with a few close friends
to the ceremony and dinner afterward.
But most importantly, the way Christian looked at me that day made me feel like
I was the most gorgeous woman he had ever laid eyes on.
We didn't have a fancy send off, and no one photographed 
our every move. 
I wouldn't change one second of that day. 
 Not one.