A Father of the Bride Summer

At long last, we are planning a wedding in this home.

We’ve talked about it. Dreamed about it. Imagined it. Ever since my daughter Lexie was little, being a bride and having a wedding has been part of our conversations. Lexie always knew she wanted a wedding—even during the years when she wasn’t entirely sure she wanted a husband.

And now, at long last, it’s come to fruition.

She’s found her prince charming, so to speak. Although if we’re being realistic, is any man really Prince Charming?

Red comes close.

Had I ever imagined that my future son-in-love would be named after a colour? No. For years, as I prayed for Lexie’s future husband, I gave him a name. Paul. Paul after the Apostle Paul. It somehow felt less abstract to pray for an unknown boy and eventual man if he had a name.

Years later, when Red was telling Lexie about his childhood in Romania, he spoke about how often he and his older brother were left on their own. They got into some trouble, as boys often do, but he remarked that he was surprised they hadn’t gotten into much worse trouble or experienced more serious consequences.Without missing a beat, Lexie replied, “That’s because my mom has been praying for you since I was a baby.”I was ridiculously delighted when she told me that story—not only because she remembered all those years of prayers, but because she knew exactly when to tell him.

Red hails from Romania. Lexie met him while living in London, England, for two years. When her time there came to an end, she essentially brought him home with her.Because he was immigrating to Canada, he wasn’t immediately able to work, which made finding a place of their own difficult. So we happily welcomed them into our home.

One month after Red arrived, they were married in our backyard. The visa process began, life moved forward, and now, almost two years later, we’re finally planning the wedding celebration.

Since I work in a school, I have summers off. This summer will be spent sewing for the wedding, planning the wedding, baking for the wedding, and decorating for the wedding.

And if I’m honest, this whole wedding business has been a dream of mine too.

Of course, I had my own wedding 45 years ago and I’m still married to the same wonderful man. But back then, weddings weren’t quite the cultural phenomenon they’ve become. The wedding itself wasn’t the dream; it was simply the vehicle that got you to the marriage.

Somewhere along the way, weddings became something more. They became celebrations, family stories, and treasured memories before they even happened.

Lexie and I share an affection for the movie Father of the Bride. We quote it far more often than any reasonable people should. Over the years it has become part of our family language. Sometimes I’ll say, “This is a Father of the Bride day.” What I mean is difficult to explain. It isn’t really about weddings. It’s about a feeling. A sense of gratitude. A recognition that life, for all its hardships and surprises, has produced a moment worth celebrating.

A Father of the Bride day is a good day.

And this summer, I suspect there will be many of them.