so, i got married on saturday. twice. and darth vader was there..

Did you REALLY expect me to have a smooth, stylish, picturesque wedding and ride off into the Orange County sunset with my Mr. Perfect? Even with every detail thoughtfully planned ahead of time?

Ha. Ha.

Somehow, it seems, *adventure* follows me wherever I go. Including into the thick of my wedding.

Here's how it all went down...

So, the boy squad and I leave Wednesday to drive to Utah to have some time with Mr. Perfect and his family (who have driven in from California) before the Saturday evening ceremony.

Thursday, we are all having a lovely Thanksgiving dinner when Uncle Perfect, who was going to perform our wedding ceremony and who had just rode his bike ala a Thanksgiving tradition nearly 80 miles, has a stroke at the dinner table and has to be taken to the hospital. Our thoughts and prayers go with him and we assure him (because he's actually still worried!) that we will find someone else to perform the ceremony.

Then Friday comes along: The day Mr. Perfect and I were to go to the courthouse to get our marriage license. And...although they reassured us when we called several weeks earlier that they were open every day except national and federal holidays--which, last I checked, "black Friday" was not--every courthouse in Utah, Wyoming, and nearby Nevada decided to close for a "family day." Meaning--no wedding license. No wedding license, no legality in our marriage. No legality, no marriage. It was either call it off and waste the time and money of all those who had helped plan the reception and traveled in from out of state and the one chance to be married with all our kids present OR...

Get in the car at 8pm that night and make the 7 hour drive to Las Vegas, land of the seven day a week wedding.

Yup.

We left our combined six children in the capable hands of Grandma Perfect and totally drove to Las Vegas, taking turns sleeping and driving. We were at the courthouse shortly after it opened at 8am, easily got a license, and were (for lack of a better word) "hustled" as soon as we walked out the doors by some sharply dressed men who claimed to have the cheapest drive-through ceremony in town. "Just follow us," they said.

So we did.

And some time about 9:30am, we were married by one "Pastor Jamie" who looked as if she may have been cocktail waitressing the night before, in a drive-through wedding chapel complete with a menu including flowers, music, and champagne flutes. We knew the vows were serious and tried not to laugh as we looked at one another across the console of the Hyundai, still littered with the remnants of our fancy wedding morning breakfast of gas station Zingers. As soon as the "I Do's" were said and Pastor Jamie tipped sufficiently, we immediately started in on the 7 hour drive back to the Salt Lake area, arriving with one scant hour to get us and six highly energetic kids ready for the ceremony. There were a lot of mismatched socks, hastily pinned boutonnieres, and my hair that looked like it hadn't been brushed in 15 hours (because it hadn't)...but we made it. And as my oldest son Z walked me down the aisle to the lilting strains of Mr. Perfect's daughter playing Row, Row, Row Your Boat on the ukulele...

It all made sense.

There, surrounded by our precious children, our closest family and friends, those who had cheered us on and made it all possible.There was SO. MUCH. LOVE. present. Even Uncle Perfect had been released from the hospital and felt up to performing the ceremony after all.

 

We did it.

Despite the odds that would have said GIVE UP! in front of us (as they had repeatedly over the last two months) we were given divine guidance, found a way, and made it happen.

And oh...what a story!!!

The reception that followed was picture perfect. My dear friend M made the most delicious salted caramel cake, Mr. Perfect's dad made centerpieces, there were six different kinds of pie, and...

a visit from Darth Vader--courtesy of Mr. Perfect's brother who is in television and got the giant man who plays all the villains in his show to come down, give us some dark side-style wedding advice, and pose for pictures. (I offer evidence...)

By the time Mr. Perfect and I are sealed in the California temple this time next year, we will have had 3 different wedding ceremonies in 3 different states. But you know what?

Worth it.

I'll say yes every time. Willingly, happily, joyfully.

Because being Mrs. Perfect is the most perfect thing ever--no matter how crazy the route to get here was :)

things lost, things gained

This will be short because I'm sitting in a sea of half-packed boxes that would like to be all-packed boxes, but I wasn't really sure when I'd be able to write again what with marrying, moving, and all that that entails coming up this week and next.

And yet I had to take a moment and pause here. Remember. I'll be glad I did one day.

It's been a ROUGH few weeks. Everything appeared to be coming together perfectly for Mr. Perfect and I, and then wrenches started getting thrown in left and right. Stalled checks, job plan changes, house repairs, my continuing accute ear infection and multiple doctors visits (still deaf, still infected, more antibiotics, hooray.), Mr. Perfect having some terrible nerve pain in his arms and hands, and even things like not being able to find matching dress shoes for the boys in the right sizes ANYWHERE.  I can't think of all that's left to be done or I start hyperventilating just a little lot a bit.

But this I know...it will get done. I will do it. Mr. Perfect and I will do it. In just four days this journey is coming to an end. Yup.

Friends have been so incredibly generous in every way and we feel so blessed and humbled (and other words that just turn into tears when I try to type them) to be surrounded by the caliber of people we are.

One of those friends kindly reminded me this week of all I was giving up in the marriage and move:
*My cute and cozy home
*My cat
*My amazing, diverse, hilarious group of friends
*The city I've lived in or near all my life, and my recognized place in it
*My incredibly talented writers' group
*My proximity to my siblings
*My in-law Peterson family and their farm to visit
*My job
*My other  jobs
*My radio show
*The ability to visit and care for my mom and dad's graves
*My church family
*Low taxes in a conservative state with abundant potatoes

"Is it worth it?" she wanted to know.

My answer. "Absolutely."

I always wondered if I would have the courage to give away nearly all of my stuff, pack up what was left, and--along with my family--move somewhere completely different and start something completely new. Like stories in the scriptures--Noah in his ark, the children of Israel, the people of Ammon, the pioneers.

And hey, you know what?--Turns out I do. I do have the courage. There is a "promised land" waiting for Mr. Perfect and I in joining our lives and families. I have had that confirmed and re-confirmed in my mind and in my heart, by thoughts, feelings, and actions. And silly things like ear infections and pinched nerves and lack of money and Red Seas aren't going to stop us. We're both linked in with Someone greater than both of us who doesn't always make it easy but does always make it possible. And worth it.

So, yes, I am giving up a lot. I am fully aware. It's hard. Dang hard. But I've been letting it all go in degrees over the last two months and staying focused on what I'm gaining. Which is...everything.

See you after I'm Mrs. Perfect.

this is what it is to single parent

As I near the end of my 4 1/2 years of single mothering, I have come to realize how media has largely shaped our ideas of what a single mother looks like-- either a woman in subsidized housing, stripping or selling drugs to buy her kids shoes. Or one who made the choice to have a child on her own--working a corporate job, dating powerful men, and glamorously doing it all with help from nannies or day cares or fancy tuition-ed preschools. 

But I was/am neither of those.

In fact, I am probably you...

If "you" are a 30-ish church-going, stay-at-home mom in a lovely marriage with a man you adore, who book clubs and coupons and recipe swaps, not caring if you have 4 children--which seems a lot to the world--but you can manage them and can't imagine life with even one less. Maybe you, like I, have a small side business (mine was interior design) you run to keep busy, keep sharp, and earn a little extra spending money to buy that special Christmas or birthday gift.

And then one day, everything changes and you're on your own. Maybe, like me, you never saw it coming and end up divorced despite swearing you'd NEVER, EVER get divorced (sadly sitting with the realization it takes two living for that promise). Perhaps you've even wrongfully judged those who DID divorce as "just not trying hard enough." Maybe your spouse passes away. Whatever it is, the burden once carried by two--financially, spiritually, physically, emotionally--is now all on you. 

Even if you, like I, have an amicable co-parenting relationship with your ex-spouse, mother's carry the brunt of the situation as we tend to have majority custody of the children.

And you have to scramble to make it all happen, somehow, quickly--despite often feeling you can barely get out of bed beneath the sudden weight of sadness and loneliness. Mortgage companies don't wait for your mourning. The power bill doesn't care if you're still trying to pinpoint where it all went wrong. The gas bill doesn't care if you can't sleep at night because you're not used to being alone and all those noises keep scaring you awake, reminding you of your vulnerability in being the sole protector. Clothes still wear out, homework still needs done, tummies still need filled, life has to go on, despite.  You can't stay home anymore. You're hurting.  Your kids are hurting and need your more than ever. There seems to be no good that can come of the situation. You feel you may never smile genuinely again.

Some are blessed with good families to fall back on for help. A lot of my single mom friends moved  in with their parents for a time, or had single siblings move in with them to help. I didn't have this option but I was blessed to have a financial reserve to draw on for several years, thanks to the sale of my ex-husband's business facilitated by his family--which, in my case, made all the difference in being able to find my way in this terrifying new situation.

But then came the day that money was gone, or near gone. I had just finished school but still couldn't find a job that would pay enough to support my home, bills, and my children. I took on a job, then another job, and another, and another--trying desperately to cram in as much "experience" into the shortest amount of time.

My lowest point in single parenting came when my ex no longer covered the boys' insurance and was growing increasingly more spotty in his child support payments. He was struggling too, with a new wife and baby. I tried to be understanding but it was difficult to continue to rely on him when he was the one who had put us in the situation in the first place.

I recall clearly the day I had to go into the Health and Welfare office, nearly in tears, and say something to the effect of, "Hey--I know I look really hip and with it, I'm an educated woman, well-known in the community, employed. I used to be doing just fine when I was married--we were business owners and had a new house. Now I can't hold on to that house and still make sure my children have access to health and dental care. I'm even struggling some months with feeding them. Yup, that's right. I need help just feeding my children and making sure they can go to the doctor when they get hurt or sick. My labor alone isn't enough. I feel practically worthless. Can you help me, please?"

Fun, right?

And even more fun having to produce that Medicaid or food stamp card at the doctor's office or grocery store, and still hold on to some amount of dignity when you see the smirk on the face of the clerk. I learned to grocery shop very late at night and only check out with one lady who was always exceptionally nice. I changed doctors to an office that was Medicaid friendlier. I didn't take on health care assistance for myself. I avoided credit card debt at all costs. I kept working hard, desiring to get out of the system as soon as possible.

On the flip side, I can't say single mothering was all bad. I did love the closet and bathroom and ice cream and free time all to myself. I did make some incredible, supportive, hilarious friends I may never have made otherwise. I did settle into a new routine, a new normal. I did genuinely smile again.

And--I learned a lot. Lessons I will most certainly take with me into my new marriage.:*How to do just about anything from repairing my dishwasher to cutting my children's hair by watching YouTube videos.* How to mow my lawn and fix my sprinklers.* How to plan and work a budget like nobody's business, stretching a dollar as far as it could go so that we would have just a little left over to do something fun from time to time, like go for pizza. *I learned to barter for things I needed as well, swapping out dinners or design work for sewing or babysitting.*I learned what to let go of (spotless floors) for what I wanted to hang on to most (reading with my children).*I learned not to waste my precious time and emotional energy on worrying about things I could not change. Somehow--by my own exhausting efforts or divine assistance from angels on earth--problems always managed to resolve (or at least postpone) themselves.

Most importantly, as a single mother, I learned how to partner with God--to let him fill that role in my life my husband used to. I've said that in previous posts, but it really was, is, true. I learned to trust Him in a way I have never trusted before, knowing He perfectly had my back. I didn't (and don't) always understand how He works, or why He does some of things He does, but I can say without a doubt, that He does love me perfectly and has shown that love again and again in undeniable ways. Miracles have come to pass before my eyes. He made up for my weaknesses and I know He always can, even with my remarriage, if I continue to let Him.

So, if you know a single mother, even one who has been single for a while, who looks really "with it"--dressed nice, employed, smiling--please, PLEASE know they still labor under very heavy loads. If you can, help them carry just a bit of it. Guaranteed your name will be the first thanked in their prayers that night.

3 objects

One day, when we're old and gray, there will be certain stories Mr. Perfect and I will tell our grandchildren. This will be one of them:

When I went to visit Mr. Perfect in California back in June, we decided to go for a night walk on the beach.

We started at his old apartment complex so he could show me around where he used to live. There, in the parking lot, I happened to catch sight of a ring--a plain silver band. I picked it up, worried someone had lost their wedding ring. Once I touched it, I realized it was just a bubblegum machine ring and slipped it on my finger as a fun souvenir. 

We left the apartment complex, and started walking toward the beach. By the glint of streetlight, Mr. Perfect noticed something on the sidewalk and bent down to pick it up. It was a small flashlight. He clicked it off and on, and since we were in a rather industrial part of the city with no one or thing around he could return it to, he put it in his pocket.

We made it to the now deserted beach, held hands, and took in the beauty of the moonlit ocean. We weren't planning on getting wet, but that's hard when you're at the beach. And you tend to frolic :). The cuffs of my pants ended up soaked and I started to shiver. Mr. Perfect loaned me his jacket but that only warmed my top half. Then, ahead of us, we saw the most beautiful, roaring fire.  There were some women talking a distance away by the restrooms, but the fire didn't seem to be theirs. By law, you're not supposed to leave fires burning on the beach--but it was if this one were freshly made and left just for us to warm up and dry off by. Which we did. Gratefully.

I tried not to read into that whole night too much--what I saw, and thought I saw--but that's difficult for a woman like me who sees meaning, metaphor, and the divine in so many things.

Mr. Perfect saw it too. Though neither of us said anything about it for a while, mulling it about in our hearts and minds.

Starting a new relationship is difficult, and REALLY scary, when you've ended a bad marriage and then had a few nasty bumps along the way in dating. Although I was completely head-over-heels in love with Mr. Perfect almost from the start, it's not that I wasn't still harboring my fears. And his were similar--our distance, how and if we could blend our families, what we would do to support everyone, whether or not the other was really all they seemed to be based on bad past experiences.

Finally, Mr. Perfect said, "It was weird, wasn't it? Those things we found walking to the beach? We both seemed to get what we most wanted..."

I had to add in the significance of the order we found them in as well-- first, a ring (commitment); then, a flashlight (light, knowledge, and guidance); and finally, a warm fire (comfort, providence, home).

We both needed more time to figure things out but, over the next few months, I kept that bubblegum machine ring by my bedside, and he kept the flashlight by his. And you know what?... The objects were right.

Once he finally decided to make that scary (albeit wonderful!) commitment (ring), the light started to come. Things started to fall into place in rather miraculous ways and against difficult odds. We started to understand why and how and when. And I don't doubt that the peace and warmth of the hearth fire are coming, too. **A beautiful life together. ** We will continue to be given what we most need, when we most need it.

Maybe it was just random junk we happened to find on the ground and stumble upon that night. Maybe it was just us assigning meaning to it all. But I think it was more than that. I think we do sometimes get tangible answers to prayers offered, to questions we don't think we can answer on our own. God has been known to leave answers in people's paths before. Indeed.