Authors: Melody Carlson
I Do (21 page)
“I think we all just need to give her some space,” she quietly warned me. “But don't worry, I'm sure she'll be okay by tomorrow.”
“Thanks, I'll be praying for her.”
I guess it didn't really occur to me that weddings can be stressful on a lot of people. Maybe it's because I've been feeling pretty relaxed and laid-back today. But now I'm reminded that lots of feelings are involved, and gatherings like this tend to ignite memories. I suppose, in some ways, it's kind of like an emotional minefield.
DEAR GOD, I PRAY THAT YOUR PRESENCE WILL BE FELT BY EVERYONE AT OUR WEDDING AND RECEPTION TOMORROW. I PRAY THAT YOUR LOVE AND GRACE WILL BE FLOWING AND THAT STRESS WILL BE REDUCED TO A MINIMUM. AMEN.
Monday, June 5
Here I am sitting on a sunny beach
in Hawaii, just listening to the waves slapping the shore as Josh makes another attempt at surfing. Yes, we are on our honeymoon, and it's been totally amazing and wonderful.
But oh, you ask me, dear diary–
what about the wedding?
Come on, I want to hear about the wedding? Okay, let me get this down while it's still fresh in my mind.
After a relatively quiet day (for me anyway; I'm not sure about everyone else), I went over to my parents' house and started getting my things together for the actual ceremony. I'd already gotten my bags packed for the honeymoon (somewhere beachy was all I'd been told), and one of Josh's youth group guys stopped by to pick up my stuff (since Josh and I had decided to be old-fashioned and
not see each other until it was time for me to actually walk down the aisle).
I was back in my old room (which is really mom's craft room), but all the wedding decorations were long gone by now. Beanie came over later in the afternoon to help me with my hair and makeup–it's like she had this certain image she wanted to create that would go with the dress. And when she was done, I had to agree it was perfect. Fortunately, it was a fairly natural look (my favorite), and I didn't feel as if she'd turned me into someone else. Even my hair, though pulled up, still looked soft and natural. Very nice.
“Something old, something new, something borrowed, something blue,” she was saying to me as my mom came into my room. “Do you have it covered?”
I held up the blue garter that Grandma had made for me. “And almost everything is new.”
“And I loaned you my pearl barrette for your hair,” Mom said. “But what about old?”
I shrugged. “How about me? I'm getting old just sitting here and waiting for this wedding to happen.”
They laughed, then my mom looked at Beanie and she nodded. I could tell these two knew something I didn't.
“I know you were thinking about wearing pearls tonight…” began my mom. And this was true. I'd gotten myself a string of pearls just like the bridesmaids'. “But Beanie and I thought something else might look better.” Then she held out an old necklace that has been in my
mom's family for a long time. I hadn't seen it for a while and had nearly forgotten all about it. But as she held it in front of me, I could see it was absolutely perfect, and Beanie was nodding.
“I was going to wait until we were at the church.” My mom fastened the lovely gold chain around my neck, then adjusted the pearl pendant in the center. “But I wanted to make sure you were okay–”
“Okay?” I said. “This is way better than okay.”
“And way better than those pearls,” said Beanie. “No offense, because I think they look fantastic with the bridesmaids' dresses, but they were just too heavy-looking for you. You needed something more delicate, and when your mom showed me this…” She sighed happily. “Well, it was perfect.”
That's not all that was perfect. I will never forget the feeling when it was time for Dad to walk me down the aisle. First of all, he looked super and his smile was something that will be with me always, but when I got to the place where I could see the wedding party in front, well, I almost fainted. Thank God, I didn't. But it was so like that “wedding vision” I'd had last winter that for a moment I thought it wasn't real.
All the white candles were glowing, and the ivy and flowers were just the right touch, and there were my three best friends looking elegantly classy in their pale pink gowns. (And oh, those shoes!) And there were the groomsmen looking sophisticated and grown up. (Yes, even Ben, who is almost as tall as Josh now, and even Aunt
Steph's son little Oliver–now seven–standing so proudly as he held the pillow that held the rings.) And Josh's young cousin Elena in her pale pink dress and basket of rose petals that had been tossed along the aisle. It was all so perfect that I felt somewhat breathless and light-headed.
And then I locked eyes with Josh!
Okay, I know it's cliché, but my heart did skip a beat when I saw him. It wasn't so much because he was so handsome, but believe me, he was! He totally was! But it was the expression on his face that took my breath away as I slowly walked toward him. His eyes were so bright and his smile was so genuine that I knew, beyond any shadow of doubt,
this man truly loved me.
I knew that he would take good care of me. And I knew that he had been worth waiting for.
I think I was starting to cry then, which made this scene even more like my “wedding vision,” because it got just slightly blurry. But then as Dad kissed me and placed my hand in Josh's, I took a deep breath and just focused on my true love's face.
No one does a wedding like Pastor Tony. He spoke from the heart and made it feel as if God was right there with us–and I know that He was. Not only that, but Pastor Tony doesn't go on too long. As we exchanged the rings, he reminded us that the circle of the ring was like the never-ending circle of God's love for us and our love for each other.
We both got a little teary eyed as we said our vows,
and the next thing I knew, we were kneeling for communion and Kim Peterson was playing the most beautiful violin solo of “Ave Maria.” I even got goose bumps.
And suddenly Pastor Tony was pronouncing us “husband and wife,” and we were kissing and being introduced to everyone as “Mr. and Mrs. Joshua Miller.” Well, you should've heard the cheers.
The guests were excused to head out to the reception, and we'd been promised by the photographer (a college buddy of Josh's who was giving us a real deal) that the church photos would take less than twenty minutes. We made him stick to his promise, because we didn't want our guests to be waiting too long.
Then as we were heading out of the church, I spotted a white stretch limousine approaching, and I looked at Josh, thinking that couldn't possibly be for us–but it was. Josh was just as surprised as I was, but it turned out that Chloe had ordered it. All eight of us got in and were driven in style over to Patty and Bob's beautiful lakeside home.
Honestly, it just got better and better after that. The yard looked amazing with all the white-covered tables and flower arrangements. It wasn't long before the sun was going down on the lake, and there was just enough cloud in the sky to give everything a soft, rosy glow. “I think that's for you,” Josh whispered in my ear. “A special wedding greeting.”
The most money I'd spent on anything for the wedding was to have a catered buffet for the guests. It
had just seemed the right thing to do, and I think everyone enjoyed it. I particularly enjoyed the strawberries dipped in chocolate that Aunt Steph had spent all last night making.
“You did this for me?” I said as I hugged her.
“I wouldn't do it for anyone else!”
The wedding cake was beautiful AND delicious. Even the band was good–and man, were they excited to meet Jeremy Baxter! Then Chloe, Allie, and Laura got up there and played a song that Chloe had written for Josh and me, called “Just Waiting.” Of course, it made us both cry. And then to lighten the mood, she and the girls did a number that totally rocked the house.
As the evening shadows grew longer, I noticed dainty strings of white lights hanging in the trees and around deck railings. And I think little fairies went around lighting about a hundred candles that were protected from the lake breeze by glass jars. It was truly magical.
Besides being with Josh, one of my favorite moments at the reception was when Joy came and took me aside. At first I was worried that something had gone wrong because her face looked somewhat serious.
“You've put together the most beautiful wedding ever,” she told me. “And I want to apologize for all the grief I'm sure I put you through.” She shook her head. “I just couldn't imagine how you could possibly pull this off. Especially when you seemed so unconcerned about everything.”
I kind of laughed. “Oh, it's not that I wasn't concerned.
It's just that I was really trying to trust God.”
“Yes, that's the same thing Josh and Chloe keep telling me. But for some reason, you kids seem to understand these things better.” She smiled. “I guess it's like they say, a child shall lead them.” Then she gave me a big hug. “I am so proud to have you for my daughter-in-law, Caitlin. Josh is one lucky young man.”
Well, I thought that was pretty good coming from her. And I did forgive her for all the times when she questioned me or made me feel like I was clueless when it came to weddings. The truth of the matter is, I actually was fairly naive. But I think I got the important things right. And that made all the difference.
One of the funniest moments (for me) was when Josh's second cousin Meg cornered me and demanded to know who my wedding planner was (she's getting married next year). I smiled at her and said, “God.” She just looked at me like I hadn't heard her right, then repeated her question. “God,” I said again. “The divine wedding planner.” Then she shook her head and probably assumed I was suffering from wedding day overload.
Oh, there were lots of great moments at the reception. I'm sure they're all field somewhere in my memory. But mostly I remember how Josh held on to my hand and how he kept looking into my eyes and reminding me that this was for real.
And finally, it was getting late, and I knew it was time to get ready to go. I went into Patty's elegant guest room to change into my “going away” outfit, selected by
Beanie and quite stylish as it turned out. But before I could leave, I just had to drop to my knees and thank God for all the miracles in my life–not just for this day–but all along the way.
Then I went back outside and was told that the bridesmaids wanted me to go stand on the dock to throw my wedding bouquet. So, hoping they didn't plan to toss me into the drink, I complied.
Standing on the dock, I turned my back to the young women who were gathered around, hoping to catch my beautiful roses (which I had already instructed Beanie to rescue afterward since I plan to save them), and I gave it a big underhand toss. And guess who caught it? Chloe Miller.
Well, I had to laugh at that and I did remind her that she was way too young to even think about it. But she just grinned in typical Chloe fashion. Then she pointed over my shoulder and said, “Hey, looks like your getaway is here.” Surprised, I turned to the lake to see a white motorboat approaching.
“Let's go, Caitie,” Josh said as he grabbed my hand. And suddenly everyone was throwing birdseed (better than rice on the Miller's lovely grounds), and Josh and I were running to get into the boat.
Of course, his youth group boys were disappointed since they had some crazy chase planned. And I'd already seen the Jeep all covered in toilet paper, whipped cream, and tin cans. But I didn't mind avoiding that as Josh and I sat in the back of the boat and
waved to our guests as we pulled out, leaving a wake behind us. Of course, we shared some nice kisses as we enjoyed a quick ride across the lake.
Then we were met by a taxi, ordered by Josh, and taken to the nicest hotel in our area. And here comes the part where even my diary doesn't get to hear about everything. But trust me, it was good.
It wasn't until the next morning that Josh told me where we were going on our honeymoon. I was preparing myself for the fleabag motel in Tijuana when he pulled a packet out of his jacket pocket. “Compliments of Chloe. She made me promise not to tell you until we were on our way.”
And that's why I am sitting here on one of the most beautiful beaches in Maui right now. We have another whole week before we fly down to Mexico. Chloe booked the tickets so that we could go directly to the mission. And Josh arranged for a couple of college guys to drive his Jeep down, so we'll have it to use and drive back when we're done.
“Do you think God will keep us in Mexico longer than just for the summer?” I asked my sweet husband this morning.
He go a slightly puzzled look just then. “I'm not sure. I've always been open to staying down there indefinitely. And I still am. But I have to admit that as we were getting things ready for the wedding, and then even at the wedding, it occurred to me how many friends and family members we have that still need God's touch in their
lives. And then there's the youth group.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So, what are you thinking?” he asked.
“I guess I'm open to wherever God wants to take us.”
He grinned. “That's what I love about you, Caitlin.”
And that's what I love about him too. I know that, more than anything, we both want to serve God with our whole hearts. And wherever that takes us and however we get there, it'll all be worth it in the end.
The End
(Or beginning…)
What did you think about Josh asking Caitlin's dad if he could marry her? How would you feel if you were in Caitlin's shoes?
What do you think Caitlin loves most about Josh? Why?
What qualities would you look for in a husband? List ten.
Why do you think Caitlin didn't want to spend a fortune on her wedding? Do you think she was just being cheap? How much do you think a wedding should cost?
Why do you think Caitlin struggled so hard with the fact that Josh had slept with Jenny? How would you feel in the same situation?
How do you think Josh felt about the fact that he, unlike Caitlin, wasn't a virgin?
Families tend to get very involved in weddings. Do you think the wedding should be more about families, or more about the couple? Why?
Which is more important–the wedding or the marriage? Which do engaged couples usually focus on more–the wedding or the marriage? Why?
What do you think was the most memorable part of Caitlin's wedding day? What would you want to be most memorable if you were the one getting married?
Why did the details for Caitlin's wedding seem to fall so perfectly into place? A trick of fiction? Or the result of someone trusting God completely? [Hint: The author's wedding wasn't so unlike Caitlin's.]
Sneak a peek inside the head of Chloe?s friend Kim Peterson as she deals with all the stuff teens face…like feeling different. Kim's used to standing out. She's Asian. She's adopted. She's a good student and a talented musician. But now Kim has a new job that
won't
make her stand out–she's an anonymous teen advice columnist for the local paper! But there's one question Kim's not finding easy answers for…just what
is
God all about?
Don't miss Kim's first diary–
Just Ask
–coming August 2005!
AUGUST 30
I never would've guessed that my own father would resort to using blackmail against me. I mean, I'm his only daughter, his “little princess.” But it seems Dad has sunk to new depths lately.
I suppose it's just the desperate cry of a frustrated newspaperman who lives in a rather small and boring town, where big news only happens once in a great while. Like the time that guy went bonkers and shot a bunch of kids at McFadden High. I was still in middle school then, but the whole town was turned inside out over the tragedy.
Dad ran stories in his paper for weeks, some that were even picked up by national news services. He actually keeps those articles framed and hanging above his desk, which I personally think is kind of flaky. But I don't let on.
Now it's not like we want these disasters (like the McFadden shooting) to happen on a regular basis, but as my dad says, “That's what sells papers.”
Of course, we have other kinds of news too. Our local paper has recently enjoyed the celebrity of the Christian rock band Redemption. Which is one of the reasons my dad started a new section in the paper called “Teen Beat.” The title is a pretty lame name, if you ask me, although he didn't. Anyway, I make an extra effort to keep him informed of Redemption's lates news (like when they won that award last spring). I do this because Chloe Miller is a good friend and has been for years, not just after she became rich and famous. Some user-types of people really take advantage of her generous nature, and what's weird is that she actually lets them. She says it's because she's a Christian, and that just makes me scratch my head and go, “Huh?” Still, I really like and respect Chloe, and despite her whole Christianity thing, she seems like a genuine person. And even though she knows that I'm not so sure about the whole religion thing, Chloe still treats me like I'm a decent human being.
Oh, it's not like I'm a “perfect heathen,” as my mom likes to tease when I skip out on church. I used to go
pretty regularly with my parents (well, only because they made me), and I'm sure it's just fine for some people, but it's not for me. Fortunately I was able to avoid church a lot this past summer due to my job at the mall, which I recently had to quit because school just started and my parents felt it would be “too distracting” to my education. Yeah, sure!
Back to my dad and how he's blackmailing his only daughter. You see, I got my driver's license last year and have been saving for my own car ever since. My parents told me that they would match what I'd saved when I was ready to buy one. And I was almost ready. But then my parents cooked up this little deal. Mostly it's my mom's idea, since she's totally freaked that I'm going to drive recklessly and get myself killed.
Anyway, they decided I can only get a car if I keep a clean driving record. That means NO tickets. Well, I was driving my mom's car to work yesterday. And her car's just a frumpy 1998 Buick LeSabre (not exactly a race car, if you know what I mean). It was my last day of work, I'd forgotten to set my alarm, and I was running a little late. So you can imagine my surprise when I heard that wailing siren and saw those flashing blue lights in my rearview mirror. Now, if I'd been a praying kind of person, I would've begged God to spare me from getting a speeding ticket, but as you already know, I am not. The policeman said he'd clocked me going seventy-two in a fifty-five zone.
“You were going seventeen miles an hour over the
limit, young lady,” he told me, like he thought I was unable to do simple math. And I was the mental math champion throughout grade school, until I realized it wasn't so cool to appear that smart on a regular basis.
“But everyone drives sixty-five through here. So it's more like I was only going seven miles over the limit.” I guess I actually hoped he'd change the ticket or something.
But this man had no mercy for speeding teenage girls. “The law's the law.” He handed me the ticket. “You'd better slow down before you get hurt.”
When I looked down at the ticket, I actually cried. Not just because it was for $285, but also because I knew this would mean no car.
After work, I went to my dad's newspaper office. “Daddy,” I began in my sweetest little princess voice. “I have something to tell you, and I don't want you to get mad. Okay?”
I could tell by his expression that he was expecting the worst. Like what would that be? Did he think I was pregnant or had a bad coke-snorting habit or was wanted by the FBI? Anyway, I told him my sad story, making it as pitiful as possible. But I could sense his relief that it wasn't something way more serious.
“I'm really sorry, Daddy. And I promise I won't speed again. I'm sure I've learned my lesson, and I plan to pay the whole fine myself.” Now I managed to actually work up a few tears. (I'm in drama and love putting on a good show.) “I just don't know what I'll do if I can't get my own
car now. I can't bear to ride the school bus, Daddy. I mean, think how stupid I'll look. I'm a junior this year. Only a geeky junior would ride the school bus.” And then when he looked unconvinced, I told him some horror stories about what happens to geeky kids who ride the bus.
“Oh, Kim, I think you're exaggerating.”
So I put on my best pouty face and pulled out my final trump card. “Sometimes I get teased for being . . .well . . .you know . . .different.”
Now this isn't completely untrue. Being the adopted Korean child of your basic all-American white-bread Caucasian parents truly does mean that sometimes I'm treated differently. I was adopted as an infant, and occasionally I can make it really work for me. And I have to admit I was working it then.
“Oh, honey.” My dad sighed and shook his head, and I wasn't sure if he felt bad or was seeing right through me. After all, he is a managing editor and is pretty good at sniffing out the truth.
“Really, Daddy. The kids on the bus can be so mean. Sometimes they even call me names.” And then I actually repeated a couple of slang words that my dad cannot stand to hear. And I knew I almost had him where I wanted him.
He got this thoughtful expression as he drummed his pencil up and down like a skinny woodpecker pecking on the rim of his coffee cup. Then he pressed his lips tightly together in that I-am-getting-an-idea sort of look. And that started to scare me.
Finally, he spoke up. “Okay, Kim, how about this?” Then he paused to study me for what felt like a full minute before he continued. “How about if we keep this one ticket between you and me?”
“Really?” I could hardly believe my good fortune. This was way easier than I'd expected.
He nodded. “But only if you agree to do something in return.”
“Huh?”
“I want you to write the advice column for Teen Beat.”
“Oh, Daddy!” I frowned as I sunk into the chair across from his desk. My dad had been pestering me all summer to do this stupid column for him. He honestly thought that teens would write letters to his newspaper–just like “Dear Abby”–and that they would actually read the answers that some lame person (hopefully, not me!) wrote back in response.
“Come on, Kim. We're making a deal here. Are you in or not?”
I slouched lower into the chair, and folding my arms across my chest, I decided to try my pouting routine again.
But he wasn't falling for it this time. “You're a good writer, sweetheart. And you've got a good head on your shoulders. Plus you're very mature for your age. Honestly, I really think you can do this.”
“But I don't want to do this.” I sat up straight and looked him right in the eyes. “Don't you understand how stupid I'd look? I don't want kids going around school saying,
‘Kim Peterson writes that lame advice column in Teen Beat. Like who does she think she is anyway?’”
He held up his hands to stop me. “No, no, you don't understand. No one will ever know that you're the writer. You have to remain anonymous for it to work. We'll give you a pseudonym or something.”
“Really?”
“Of course.”
“And you wouldn't tell Mom about my speeding ticket?”
“It'll be part of our deal. You don't tell anyone you're writing this column for me, and I won't tell Mom that you got the ticket.”
“And I can still get a car?”
He nodded. “You'll even get paid.”
“I'll get paid?”
He shrugged. “Well, not much, honey. But we'll work out something.”
And so that's how I got stuck with this small pile of letters (supposedly from teens) for “Just Ask Jamie”–that's the actual name of the advice column. Of course, Dad didn't just ask if I wanted it called that. But I guess it's okay. Although I wish he'd come up with something better for my pseudonym than Jamie. But he said he wanted to use a unisex name so that kids wouldn't know whether I was a guy or a girl. Whatever. Also, my dad's linked me up with some “resources” for any tricky questions that may involve the law or anything that's
outside of my expertise. “Like what exactly is my expertise?” I asked him. And he just laughed and assured me that I would be fine. We'll see.
Anyway, I've just finished practicing violin (I have to get back into shape before school starts), and I decided I would “practice write” my answers to these letters in the safety zone of my own computer diary (which is accessible only with my secret password). I figure this will help me to see how it goes and whether I can really pull this thing off or not.
I've picked the first letter that I plan to answer. Mostly, I picked this one because it's a fairly simple and straight-forward question. So here goes nothing.
Dear Jamie,
I am fifteen years old, and I desperately want to get my belly button pierced. My mom says, “Not as long as you're living under my roof!” But I say, “Hey, it's my belly button, and it should be up to me if I want to put a hole in it or not.” Right? Anyway, I plan to get it done soon. And I've decided not to tell my mom. Do you think I'm wrong to secretly do this?
Holeyer than Some
Dear Holeyer
,
While I can totally understand wanting to pierce your belly button because I, too, happen to think that looks pretty cool when done right, I really think you should consider some things first. Like how is your mom going
to feel when she finds out you did this behind her back? Because they always find out. And how will this mess up your relationship with her? Whether you like it or not, you'll probably be stuck living “under her roof” for about three more years. So why not try to talk this thing through with her? Explain that you could go behind her back, but that you'd rather have her permission. Believe me, you'll enjoy your pierced belly button a whole lot more if you don't pierce your mom's heart along with it. Just Jamie
Okay, now I have a problem. I feel like a total hypocrite because I haven't been completely honest with my mom. Oh, sure, I didn't go out and pierce my belly button. Although that might not be as bad as breaking the law, getting a ticket, and then not telling her. Of course, my dad did make a deal with me when he blackmailed me with the advice column. So maybe this is different. But if this is different, why do I feel guilty? Maybe I should write a letter to Jamie and just ask!