Monday Moment: Dancing

I haven't posted a "Monday Moment" about the wedding in a long time. Nearing 10 months from the wedding, the moments in time feel more like memories. Our photos are growing more precious. One thing I am so glad that our photographer was able to catch is the dancing. It is so happy and free and celebratory! All ages and stages of love, all skills and styles of dance. The reception was a freaking awesome, sweaty, loud dance party.

I love to dance. I am not good at it. I do not claim to be coordinated (and seem to become more out of touch with the rhythm as years go by). But I love me some dance party. I love to watch people dance. I feel the joy of moving, of pumping fists and shaking hips and twirling skirts.
And these ladies breaking it down in their bare feet are women I grew up dancing with -- square dancing, jazz dancing, first-time slow dancing. With them, I learned to appreciate ballet and modern dance. There are so many fun photos. Among all of them, this shot of my Great Aunt Mary (who is in her 80s) is one of the most breathtaking. There are several photos of her dancing. She twirled and two-stepped and boogied with the youngest of us that night. Look at her eyes shining.

After last week's post about age, I think these photos confirm that youth is in the soul.

I can only hope Aunt Mary's true joy for living is hereditary. It's fitting that last week my mom commented on the "A tiny drop" post, "Growing older is, I will agree, something you can't stop and you shouldn't worry about because you can miss so much trying to be something (younger) that you are not. The best we can do is enjoy every day, laugh, love the people around us, try not to complain too much and sort of roll with it."

When you spend too much time worrying, you can miss all the good dancing music, all the things to celebrate.

P.S. I know I'll catch some crap for posting some of these photos, which are not at all flattering but altogether wonderful anyway. Stop worrying people!

Monday moment: Honeymoon memories

Last night, Patrick and I had one of those inside joke laughing fits. You know the type. After the lights went out and we were almost asleep, I started with, "Remember when ..."

And we went back and forth laughing about our trip to the Bahamas and all of the crazy and awesome and funny things that happened that week, about how tired we were at first, about the romantic meals, the beach vendors, and the beautiful landscape. It was a warm set of memories to revel in as the biggest snowstorm of the season (so far) swept a white blanket over the state.

Monday Moment: All grown up

I traveled southward last weeked, but the Midwestern snow followed me. Tennessee got at least 6 inches of snow, and we spent an afternoon tubing and sledding. Because this part of the country rarely sees snow deeper than an inch, a sense of wonder settled over those Southerners as the snow fell .. and fell, and fell.

For the most part, I wasn't really amused or amazed. What amazed this lady was all the fuss. At one point during our snow play, I thought: "I am nearly 30 years old. I am a grown woman, giggling in the snow." Later, as my friends mother ladled homemade hot chocolate into ironware, I remembered snowdays spent sledding, hot bowls of chili and steaming cocoa, and frozen-red cheeks stinging from the heat of the indoors. Kind of like I wished for that gloomy Thursday last week.

Who says adult, married women can't whoop and belly-laugh and scream as they plow forward on a steep hill? Nobody.

Monday Moment: Dreams

I’ve written here about dreams several times: literally, about strange or slightly psychotic wedding premonitions, and more figuratively about the kind you write down or hold deep in your soul.

As a young girl, I dreamed I’d be a famous writer or painter. New York City was a dream. I dreamed of authoring children’s books. My dream was to have my own house, to have money, to one day to be a mother. There was a dream, too, to do something important.

I think I’m honored to check off a few of these things, but oddly, I feel a little empty with check marks next to them. Life is so much fuller with big things out on the horizon.

Years ago, Martin Luther King, Jr. said some words about dreams. Here’s to never giving in to dreams, to keeping them out there bobbing in the distance.

Monday moment: Saying goodbye

This week, many blogs are reflecting on the past year and the things that ended up mattering. Many writers and talking heads are helping us dive into the new year with resolutions and wishes.

Over the holidays, I rested and wrapped and cleaned and thought often about the year that was 2009. So much happened in the world and in our little life together. We spent the first four months wrapped in the bliss of our wedding (probably the happiest day of my life so far), with parties and planning and happy things that made us feel blessed and charmed in life. Beautiful things, a tropical honeymoon, plans and hopes for how things will be.

But new things must be unswaddled and used. For Patrick and I, these first months of marriage have been some of the most trying -- and most binding -- of our many years together. We've really tested our vow to support one another in good times and bad. We've used our bond to climb out of depressions, to deal with loss, to overhaul a kitchen, to vent frustrations, and to find comfort.

This Monday, we said goodbye to Patrick's grandfather. Grandpa Combs struggled and finally was at peace the morning of Dec. 31. Patrick's paternal grandmother was buried in June.

So, what ended up mattering, as the ball dropped "2010" and tears burned in both Patrick's and my exhausted eyes was pretty clear. It had nothing to do with deaths or bad luck. It had nothing to do with a perfect wedding day, either. It had to do with people, with love and the person with whom we'll spend every new year.

In the end, life is a lot like the Jewish tradition author Elie Wiesel writes of, "...celebration of life is more important than mourning over the dead. When a wedding procession encounters a funeral procession in the street, the mourners must halt so as to allow the wedding party to proceed. Surely you know what respect we show our dead, but a wedding, a symbol of life and renewal, a symbol of promise too, takes precedence."

So long, 2009. May 2010 be filled with life and rewnewal, and may peace and warm memories take precedence over all else.

Monday Moment: Thankful

Driving to work today, I thought about where we were this time last year. I remembered the feelings that surrounded Thanksgiving week of 2008. I felt compelled to "re-post" this bit from the archives. It's fitting, I think, as we enter another holiday season, to remember how blessed and loved we are. And to say "thank you, thank you, thank you" to all who love us and bless us with their many gifts -- material and spiritual.

From 12.02.08:

I adore Thanksgiving as a holiday. It is a day and time void of pretenses and expectations, designed to remind each of us of the many blessings we enjoy every day. This year, my mom's side of the family descended on my parents' home from all parts of the country -- Florida, Illinois, Wisconsin, California -- to celebrate. And this year, especially, I was touched by so many precious and wonderful moments. I felt so much love, warmth, and genuine gratitude.

Our first bridal shower, held on Saturday, moved me to tears. It is difficult to explain what it feels like to be showered with beautiful and generous gifts simply because you are happy and in love. My neighbors Marty and Sue prepared a gorgeous brunch. Anna and Emma dutifully made ribbon bouquets and recorded gifts. We all laughed and the group watched as I opened beautiful package after beautiful package. (Above, I am demonstrating the wonders of OXO pop containers... "oooh" ... "ahhh") It was overwhelming.

Unpacking everything on Sunday, the gifts seemed to "fill" up the house. Through this process of planning and showers and gift-giving, the people we love and who love us are building our home. The coffee pots and wine glasses and throw blankets and baskets are daily reminders of those who grew us into the family we are now and will support us in the family we become.

Thank you. My cup runneth over.

Monday Moment: No words needed.

It took me a long time after we returned from our honeymoon to find the words to write about that day and how it felt. It was just so much, so surreal, so deep inside of me. We're coming up on six months (this weekend!), and I still have no words to describe the moments captured in each of these images. What a gift to have had our living grandparents there to watch us take our vows, and what a blessing to feel those no longer with us smiling on us that day.

Monday Moment: Berry Nice

"What a Wonderful World" croons in the background, and I'm thinking sentimentally that I can't believe I'm dancing with my dad at my wedding. These are the moments that sometimes feel awkward at a wedding. And then Dad whispers to me, "I'll say a berry, then you say a berry. ... boysenberry." I smiled.

Me: "Blueberry?"
Dad: "Cranberry."
Me: "Strawberry."

By this time we are giggling, and the awkwardness melts away. We are laughing too hard.

Monday Moment: "Hello, my name is ..."

Today's moment is a totally personal one, and it relates to my recent post about changing my name.

Though not all women agree (see the comments about aforementioned post), I'm so happy to have Patrick's name; it makes me feel proud and a little giddy. But I still feel a little odd when I sign a check or introduce myself in a meeting.

I've been saying, "Hello, I'm Sarah." Or "I'm Sarah A., I just got married and I'm not used to saying that yet."

It's as if I needed to make an excuse for my name or stick my maiden name in between for good measure (which I actually do on my business cards and e-mail signature just because it makes me feel more normal). I kind of shrugged off this uneasiness, thinking that it takes some time to grow into anything new.

This Monday Moment happened today, when I left a message for a coworker. I said it without hesitating. I just said it, and then I hung up. And then I thought, happily, "Huh. Yes, that's me."

Monday Moment: The best thing

So, like Will Farrel and his new bride in "Old School," the hubby and I had an oh-so-exciting Saturday at the Home Depot this weekend! Yes, new countertops are actually considered a date now. This can seem a bit depressing if one dwells on it.

Well, here's the "the best thing" about our trip. There we are, flanked by orange metal shelving and home-improvement gear, and our first-dance song comes pumping over the loudspeaker: "You Are the Best Thing" by Ray LaMontagne (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vJ3xTjvj9tw).

We stop. We look at each other. We smile, and we kind of transport back to the romantic dance floor of Laurel Hall. Giddy giggles and a kiss. Home Depot dates are awesome!

Monday Moment: Maids of honor

We're back from North Carolina today, recovering after the new Mr. & Mrs. Eberle's beautiful wedding. (Definitely a post coming up this week about the event!). Like me, Lauren had her two little sisters stand as maids of honor. 

You could tell the job meant a lot to Erin and Haley -- they were so worried the whole weekend about doing things just right. Their joy for Lauren was palpable. Yet, you could sense an undertone of loss at knowing a new chapter of life was beginning for their family. This is one emotion you don't necessarily expect on a wedding day. 

On the nine-hour ride home, I thought about my sisters. Especially Emma, who is closest to me in age. On my wedding morning, after the dress was zipped, I stood to study my figure in a long mirror. Mom, Emma, and Anna watched and smiled. Then Emma erupted into tears. 

"I don't want you to get married!" she said. We hugged and I told her: nothing about how much we care for each other will change because I am a wife. 

Later in the evening, in her toast, she made us laugh and then surprised me with something so poignant. She read from a letter I wrote to her when she left for college. The letter was about taking risks and making hard choices, about really living life but remaining authentic to your true person. And, the letter reminded its reader of the safety net of family that will always be around. 

Aside from the fact that she saved that letter for so many years (she's now 25), I was moved. I was so touched that along with the greatest joy a person can feel she, too, felt a hint of fear for me at the unknown of married life. That kind of empathy is something that, perhaps, only a sibling can experience. 

Thanks, Emma, for your honesty and your empathy. 

Monday Moment: Happy eyes

The hard copies of our photos arrived on Saturday, and we spent Sunday evening sifting through a few packages (there are many!). We got to this picture, taken of us after we were showered with rose petals and literally JUST married. Patrick said:

"This one might be my favorite. I love your eyes in this one."

Yes, those are some happy eyes.

P.S. Forgive this Tuesday-morning "Monday Moment." :)

Monday Moment: "Oh my..."

This may be one of the most hilarious moments of my wedding day. Everyone was lining up to make the walk down the aisle, and we came up the stairs from the basement dressing room. I got to the door to come out, and they all said "No! Patrick's out here!" (Which is silly because I saw him first thing in the morning that day, spent all day with him until about 30 minutes before "go" time.) Anyway, they shut the door. And there I was standing in the stairwell behind the closed door, all alone. And my heart started racing and I started shaking. I took a deep breath in, and the tears started welling up. Lip began to shake. Anticipation!

Then the door opened! It was Tricia! Good friend! Dear, sweet wedding coordinator!

She was like, "They left you in here!?" I nodded. We burst into laughter. So we stood in the stairwell together, taking deep breaths, and waiting until Patrick took his mom down the aisle.

I am so glad that we have this on film and that I can remember that feeling of relief at seeing her face. There were lots of little snippets like that on the wedding day, ending in comic relief. After all, you can't giggle at yourself during the ridiculousness that is a wedding, when can you giggle?

Monday Moment: "When You Come Back Down"

This time last year, I posted about ceremony music. The first time I heard Nickel Creek's "When You Come Back Down," I felt it in my gut. And every time the song played I strangely imagined myself walking down the aisle to the non-traditional bluegrass melody. It is such a soft song, and so poignant but strong and steadfast.

In the end, though, I opted to enter to Pachabel's Canon in D. Instead, we wove the song into our very traditional Catholic ceremony as a theme.

The priest mentioned its meaning for us as a couple in his homily (or sermon): "For Sarah and Patrick, this song speaks of God’s love for us and unconditional support and their parents’ faith and support of our dreams individually and as a couple. It was also especially important for them when they were long distances from each other."

Here are a few lyrics: "When you're flyin' high, take my heart along/ I'll be the harmony to every lonely song/That you learn to play ... When you're soarin' through the air/I'll be your solid ground/Take every chance you dare/I'll still be there/When you come back down." Our programs featured these words on the inside cover.

But second only to our actual VOWS in the ceremony was my little brother's rendition of the Nickel Creek song during our unity candle. He played the guitar and sang with his friend Sarah. It was a telling reflection on our love and the love we’ve experienced in life, and one of the most intimate parts of our ceremony.

I think you can build little moments like these into a wedding, and I think you can do it in ways that aren't trite or contrived just for the sake of being "unique." Now when I hear the fiddle and violin, I hear my brother's voice and feel Patrick's hand in mine at our wedding. Sappy? Yes. True? For sure.

Monday Moment: Marriage

This is maybe one of the most touching photos in our collection of images from May 2. It's my mom, giving "the face" to my goofy dad during a family portrait. Mom acts disgusted, but I think of that look as a look of ultimate love. If you're lucky, that look, dear readers, is marriage. Why? Because that's fun. That's who dad is. That's not taking life too seriously. That's living.

Monday Moment: At the Poop Deck?

This, friends, was truly a moment. This was a "holy cow we're married" moment, a "this cannot be real" moment, a "how cool is this?" moment. Day three of the honeymoon in Nassau, we ventured out for dinner to a place we giggled at on day one in the taxi to the resort. Patrick nudged me and said, "He. He. We are totally eating there."

So, why was this such a moment? Well we made reservations for what we thought was a fun, bar-type restaurant and ended up sitting here. On the beach and all alone by lantern-light with our toes in the warm sand, a breeze giving sunburned skin chill bumps, and the waves crashing in before our eyes.

So we were giddy, of course. But as we buttered our rolls, I remember watching my husband (as of yesterday, my hubby for three months!) with the knife and the smile and closing my eyes.

WE'RE MARRIED! HE'S MY HUSBAND. And simultaneous terror and delight spread through my veins. Terror at the rest of life beyond waves and insanely gorgeous beaches. Delight at having chosen this bread-butterer for my own.

We talked about this moment, and we both decided that we still have moments that kind of stop us in our tracks, thinking, "are we really married?" Slowly, the terror is subsiding (wink, wink).

Moment Monday: "Wow."

When we were planning with our DJ, we asked that the "group dances" like the electric slide and the conga be left of the list. "Our guests will probably do the conga without prompting," we said. Not only did they erupt into a spontaneous conga line, the room was absolutely filled with dancing from the first song to this song, a special request of ours.

We may have expected the conga line and the silly dancing. But when an arm-in-arm circle formed at the reception, Patrick and I were both floored. He was moved to tears. This moment is one that always makes me smile. Literally encircled by love, by our best friends and dearest family, by singing -- we looked at each other, still smiling. And said, "Wow."

What a way to end a party.

Monday Moment: Hydration

Except for a few sips of coffee at home, the whole morning I drank water. Slow gulp, breath, another drink, breath. And in my mind I kept repeating "It's here. It's all ok. You can't control this day any more because it's here."

I did this when I woke up tossing, stomach turning at 5 a.m. Another sip of cold water came at breakfast after the first look at a gray sky. "You can't control this day any more because it's here." And while the tatoo-ed stylist tucked curls with bobby pins, I drank water. I took a breath. I smiled. It felt like sleep walking.

"You are the most low-key bridal party we've ever had," the stylist said. Another breath.

Then she was finished. The hair was just as we'd practiced, and it was beautiful. I smiled again. The sun made sparkles on the blacktop parking lot outside. A breeze blew a wind chime. I took another sip of water.

And then my mom looked at me and burst into happy tears. We hugged. "I love today!" I thought. It was all over after that. Laughter swelled. Eyes welled up.

And from there, the day's schedule sped into a blur. The time on the clock mattered, but not all that much. I was hydrated and happy. And we packed into the car: me, my sisters, my mom, and the photographer. We packed into the car and the "Happiest Girl in the Whole U.S.A." played as we pulled into the parking lot of Laurel Hall.

The sun was still shining, and I still had no control. What a blessing.