our wedding

Today, August 8, 2008 is our anniversary so this post is extra special to me.


It was a hot, Florida Saturday night in August 1970. Byron was twenty-one years old and I was almost eighteen. The small town Church of God was comfortably full with nearly a hundred people the night we married--more than we usually had in our regular Sunday morning service.

White wicker flower baskets overflowing with daisies were placed near the two cascading candelabras at the front of the church. The glow of candles and dimmed lights softened the harsh angles of the rectangular sanctuary.

My sparkling white wedding dress with long sleeves, chiffon and lace inserts at the neckline and intricate beading , sequins and lace flowers interspersed over the length of the dress--all for $99.00 plus tax, at JC Penny--was the most beautiful dress I'd ever put on in my life.

As an adult, I now understand that despite our family's lack of saying "I love you," or telling one another our deepest feelings, that for my dad, when he calmed my fears, explained catalysts, fixed my shoes, or bought me lots of beautiful, but affordable daisies for my wedding he was showing me concrete expressions of his love.

The minister stood at the front of the church with the groomsmen all in place as my attendants promenaded down the center aisle. After my girlfriends and my sisters found their places, the organist's majestic-sounding music signaled everyone to stand and watch me walk down the aisle with my dad.

My parents had been surprisingly easy about our decision to marry at such a young age. When I told my mother what we were planning, there were no shocked reactions or arguments and only one requirement; I had to graduate from high school. The night Byron asked my dad for permission to marry they talked a long time about jobs and money and places to live. Both my parents had confidence in Byron to be a good husband to me.

Marrying at only seventeen should have scared me, but it didn't. Maybe I wasn't scared because I was seventeen and thought I knew everything anyway. I know now that marrying so young is the boldest and at the same time the most naive thing I've ever done.

I was sure I wanted to be with Byron and maybe it was because I saw some similarities between him and my dad. Opposites in most ways, they both displayed fierce loyalty to family and held great respect for the feelings of others. Despite my desire to marry him that night, queasiness overtook my stomach and my dry lips stuck together. My knees wobbled at the thought of being the center of this huge amount of attention.

The double doors opened.

It was show time.

Panic-stricken I looked into my dad's eyes, slipped my arm into his and we took a step together into the church. He smiled his crooked smile, comically raised his bushy eyebrows over the black glasses frames and said,

"Let's go, Suzanne."

We went.

As we took another step or two he bent his head down near mine and whispered into my ear,

"Look around to the left side of the church and then to the right. See all the people you know?"

I smiled and nodded to him.

"They're here because they want to see you and Byron tie the knot."

Until that moment I'd only seen faceless bodies--a nameless crowd--and it had unnerved me, but when I saw my Sunday School teacher, Mrs Bowman, my friends from school, Rose and Alice and my sisters Kathy and Karla as my bridesmaids and all my family smiling at me, trying to catch my eye as we walked, I knew I had nothing to be afraid of. These people were my friends and family. They liked me. I returned my smiles and beamed at my dad. He only knew our immediate family there that night yet he basked in the moment proud to escort his eldest daughter to be married. We both enjoyed our stroll down the aisle.

Dad whispered to me as we walked,

"Look at Byron down there. He looks scared."

I saw Byron at the altar as he watched my dad and me walk toward him. I leaned in and whispered ,

"He's not smiling, is he?"

Byron wasn't smiling but time has proven that his fear wasn't fear at all but solemn commitment. Dad and I shared another smile and walked a few more slow steps.

We reached the rest of the wedding party and my dad fulfilled his role of,

"Who give this woman to be married?"

He took his seat next to my mother in the pew. The ceremony proceeded, we promised to love and honor, I promised to obey, and Byron and I were pronounced man and wife. Thirty-eight years ago today.

We attended the same church for many years afterward so I know it is small and I'm certain the aisle is short--perhaps only forty-five feet to the front--but that night, walking and talking with my dad, it was exactly as long as I needed it to be.