Today I sat there with tissues in hand as I tried to drink in every moment. There were a thousand tiny details, and they were all for my daughter, my baby girl. The background was just what she wanted, her hair and make-up were just right, her dress was beautiful and her smile shined brighter than the sun.
For months we'd planned it. We didn't have a savings account for this, so everything she wanted was hard earned. We scrimped and saved. We sold stuff, and then sold some more stuff. We did without. But most of all we prayed, and God provided the funds. In the end, she got pretty much everything she wanted for her big day.
Over the past few weeks, as the event drew near, people would ask me if I had cried, if it had hit me yet. No, I was handling everything okay, after all there were too many details to concern myself with, I didn't have time to lose it. Until yesterday. Until I tied her bouquet.
The boutonnières didn't bother me, the coursages were a cinch. And then I made her bouquet. I gathered the flowers and started arranging them. She tweaked them a little. We added the succulents she dearly wanted to have in her bouquet. We tweaked them again. Satisfied with the arrangement, I began to wrap up the stems. Her special request? Knot the ribbon in this fancy way she had seen on Pinterest.
So I did.
And then I cried.
I realized at that moment that my baby girl was getting married. That these flowers were for her. That she would be leaving the care and protection of our home and enter the care and protection of another. That life from this point would be different. We would have to share our girl with another family for holidays. We would be including our new son-in-law in family celebrations. She would no longer be subject to our curfews or our rules. That our car insurance bill would go down. That her make-up bag wouldn't clutter the bathroom counter on a daily basis.
And all of this because of a bouquet. The bouquet my little blonde-haired, blue-eyed girl, who I swear was just four years old and splashing in puddles yesterday, would carry down the aisle today. I cried. I hugged her hard, and kissed her cheek.
Today, I cried as she prayed with her new husband and held his hand as the pastor pronounced them husband and wife. I cried tears of joy. Beautiful tears of past memories. Joyful tears of a hopeful future.
Of all the weddings I've helped with, of all the bouquets I have tied...this one was the most precious. That silly bouquet that made me cry, my daughter's bouquet.
