Participated in a renewal of vows / recomittment service this past weekend. It was a big to-do, a replica of what a real wedding would be, resplendent with beautiful brides all done up, handsome grooms, blooming bouquets and boutonnieres, flower girls, bridesmaids, groomsmen, pastor in garb, and the site rightly decorated befitting “I do again’s.”
The event was in the works for a few months. It entailed detailed and exhaustive preparation. Not a piece was left undone – centerpieces and table settings included – everything was perfect. Rehearsals leading up to the grand day ensured that everyone knew where to be and when, how to walk and with whom, what to say and how to say it. Not having a dress rehearsal meant that we were not completely prepared, but it was close enough – no one tripped over their gowns. (I should add that we were indeed instructed to not have long trains.)
There was some anticipation leading up to the day, I’ll admit. Some trepidation even. I had every intention of wearing my original wedding dress, even though it was thirteen years old. What were my chances? What was my point? Did I have a point??
Some emergency protein fasting saw me fit into my beloved dress to the wonder of the other brides and onlookers.
I could go on to say that, yes, I almost tripped going up the steps because, yes, I had a little itty bitty train, but hubby was there to support me so I didn’t go down. lol
Anywho, this post is too long already and I didn’t even get to my point. 🙂 After the ceremony, as we were taking turns getting our pictures taken, one woman decides to tell confide in me. Me. The person with minimal friends. Me. The person with, maybe, three girlfriends. Total. I have no clue if my response is appropriate and as she was speaking I was hearing and doing my best to be fully present. I was out of my comfort zone…. Well, long story longer, she told me about how she had low self-esteem growing up because she was overweight, how she never thought she was pretty because of it. I told her she was beautiful, and I wasn’t lying. I told her I wish I could instill confidence in every little girl so she wouldn’t grow up doubting herself or beauty or her worth. I told her that I too didn’t know or really believe I was beautiful until only about five years ago.
Later I thought for a while about all of the different possible reasons she could have had for sharing that with me. I still don’t know the answer. Maybe it’s as simple as she just wanted to share it with someone. Everything doesn’t have to be complicated, does it?