One of the great things about Facebook is that it is timeless.  Your event lives on after it is posted and no one knows what happened before or afterward just that you were there online at one moment in time.

The wedding of my husband’s son, Daniel, is a great example.  I am delighted to have worn a gorgeous dress to the outdoor ceremony at the Lakeside Rosegarden downtown near where we live in Indiana.  The weather was idyllic:  sunny and 80 degrees with a slight breeze in the abundant shade.  The nuptials were exchanged in front of the fountain and reflecting pools:  the groom dressed impressively in his Marine blues and the bride aptly adorned in white chiffon and satin.  The red roses in her hair were a lovely touch in the regal garden setting.  A small contingent was invited to witness the event early in the afternoon and an even larger one would attend the reception 5 hours later.  In the interim we snapped a myriad of photos then headed off to various restaurants in the area.  A few crashed at their hotel rooms in anticipation of the reception at a restored train station called Baker’s Street.  Surely there would be dancing, eating of gourmet finger sandwiches and cake:  festivities that are the hallmark of American wedding traditions.

You wouldn’t know that the reception is happening right now and I am not there.  I am sitting here in a Polartec sweater, pajama bottoms and my evening dress shoes (as the daytime slides have already made their showing in the soft grass around the park nearly landing me into a wardrobe malfunction!).  This was my comfort garb I selected for a short rest before I redressed for the evening.  Yeah well you can probably guessed what happened instead:  the tic attacks that had begun at the quiet restaurant I selected and enjoyed with select family members escalated into a continuous episode as soon as I lain on the bed at home.  Nope.  No nap just some more shakes.  Crap.  Crap.  Crap.

Just because we have hosted 2 gatherings (doubling the wretched symptoms over these past 4 days), got Skyped into a bridal shower (to minimize exposures to 2 dozen ladies wearing fragrances of all sorts), and attended one of the most lovely outdoor rehearsal-style receptions followed by an equally lovely wedding the next day, why would I be too weak to go to a reception?  “Why” indeed.  All of this celebrating was way too much for me a few days ago!  Such is the nature of Chronic Inflammatory Response Syndrome (CIRS):  a complication of Lyme disease and biotoxin illness.  The fact that I made it this far is a miracle for me.  I am grateful.  And I am also sad that I could not finish the festivities with everyone, dancing the night away in the arms of my beloved.  So my beloved and I did something else instead.

Just before Steve left to join his family for the wedding reception back downtown, I asked him for 5 minutes.

That’s when I put on my other pair of dress shoes so we could dance.  Oh how I love my Stevers.  (We played this song at our own wedding DURING the ceremony, before the Lord and all of our guests 6 1/2 years ago.)  Afterwards with a kiss more passionate than many of late, we parted this evening.  Later I looked at the photos we had downloaded from the wedding and posted a bunch on Facebook.  Clearly there are more memories being created at the reception as I typed.  Oh well.  I had the most romantic dance of the evening right here in our living room.  My beloved will return and all will be right with the world.  Have I said that I love Steve so very much?  My heart broke and the tears came easily as he prepared to leave.  Rest assured I needed to be left behind in the comfort of our home tonight to rest for the eighth large gathering of the week that is tomorrow night:  the wedding of a son of some dear friends of ours.  This evening Steve will have danced with his lovely daughters and mother (here from California).  Tonight it will be his turn to sit alone while his ex-wife dances with her new husband.  So much not the way it should be.  I’m sure Steve will be fine.

Perhaps another one of those great kisses will be coming my way a little later?  Hope so.  We each do what the Lord calls us to do on a night like this.  At least the pictures are really nice, eh?  Thank you Lord.  How could I ask for more?