The Big Day

Our engagement photo

Today marks the 16th anniversary of the day I was sealed to Husband for time and all eternity in the Salt Lake Temple.

We got married during a heat wave. I believe the temperature in Salt Lake that day was 104 deg. F, which made me glad that I hadn't been able to afford a big, fancy gown. I wore a temple dress to which my dear mother-in-law painstakingly sewed hundreds of pearls. My veil was borrowed from a complete stranger the day before the wedding (that's a funny story. Maybe I'll blog about it tomorrow). We had ridden into Salt Lake with barely any money and had been put up by kind friends of Husband's family, who also put together the reception and designed my bouquet of daisies (my favorite flower at the time). I had no idea where to buy or even rent a wedding dress, as I was completely new to Salt Lake, but even if I had known where to go, I didn't have the budget. We did buy a cake, though, small as it was.

On the day of our wedding, I had to go wake up Husband. We were both sleeping in the same house owned by a wonderful older couple (the ones who spearheaded the reception and made my bouquet), although he was in the basement and I was up in the attic, on the third floor, and while it's considered bad luck to see each other before the wedding, I figured it would be worse luck to be late. So I woke him up.

Of course, I was jittery, as well. And, just to give me a taste of what I was in for, the more jittery I got, the more purposefully slow he seemed to get until I thought I was going to beat him to death. We had to be to the temple at 9am, and they'd warned us not to be late: lots of weddings that day. I couldn't eat breakfast. I tried a few bites of toast, but my stomach was roiling with nerves. Husband, however, ate everything and savored every bite. Jerk.

Finally, we left for the temple. We stopped by a bank to grab some cash at an ATM, but Husband pulled in in the wrong direction. He wasn't, at that point, deliberately trying to goad me, but we almost had our first fight. The nerves, you see. Normally I could laugh something like that off no problem.

I was relieved to arrive at the temple on time, but it turned out my in-laws weren't so punctual; and because my MIL had been sewing on pearls to my dress, she had the dress and I didn't. Panic, nerves strung tight. Eventually, they all showed up, my MIL and FIL, as well as the five kids they had brought with them from Wales for the wedding (the oldest of Husband's brothers wasn't able to come). My family were there as well, except for my next oldest brother, who was still serving a mission in Belgium. It was time.

The ceremony was beautiful. Temple weddings take place in a special room inside the temple called a sealing room. There, the couple kneels across from each other at an alter and simple words binding them for time and eternity are said. Only close family and friends attend the sealing, as the rooms are not very large.

After, my mother and MIL fussed over my hair and veil until they let me out to see my new husband. Pictures were taken in the hot sun and everyone tried not to wilt too badly.




Everyone began heading off to the reception, which was being held in a chapel quite a distance from the temple. The photographer kept us a bit long taking pictures, so by the time Husband and I headed for the car, almost no one was left. Husband reached for the keys...and found nothing. Oh, no! He'd left the keys in his suit jacket pocket when he'd changed into his tuxedo, and his mother had his suit. And she was gone to the reception. This was in the days before cellphones, although even if we had wanted to call anyone, we didn't know any numbers.

For ten minutes we tried to figure out what to do. Surely, when we didn't show up to the reception, someone would ask questions and come looking. Wouldn't they? Or was it more likely they'd figured we'd ditched the reception to find our hotel room? We could take the bus, but we didn't even know which bus would get us to the chapel. Nor did we have any cash or change for bus fare jingling in our wedding attire pockets. (But wouldn't that have been a story?)

Finally, we spotted my parents and brothers and sisters coming out of the temple grounds. Their chronic late tendencies had saved us. We hitched a ride up in their van to the reception. I sat in front and Husband had to squeeze himself into the back seat as best he could.

The reception was lovely, and we saw lots of family and old friends who came to wish us well. My stomach was growling, but I couldn't eat because I was talking to guests. I got a small piece of the cake, but that was pretty much it.

One of Husband's brothers met his future wife at our reception. She was an old pen-pal of Husband's, introduced to Husband through her older brother, a missionary who had served in Wales and become friends with Husband's family. My brother-in-law and this beautiful young woman were married a couple years later, after both of them had served missions. Through them, Husband's youngest brother met his future wife in Indiana years later. We like to think we started it all.

Anyway, after the reception, my new husband and I retired to our hotel. I was, understandably, nervous. And hungry! Before anything else, I insisted on ordering a cheeseburger from room service. Most expensive cheeseburger I've ever eaten, but it was dang good. After that cheeseburger was eaten,I'll let you draw your own conclusions.

Here's to another 16 years and more with the man who makes me laugh and love like no other. We are still "poor Welsh peasants," as he puts it, but we have everything we need to be happy.