Snapshots from Wedding Day

I’m awake earlier than intended, a mind full of memories and images. Like a mental scrapbook, paging through so many snapshots, priceless scenes of the people I love. 

Anika was married this past Sunday, and all my people were there, celebrating a favorite cousin, a granddaughter, niece. First-cousin-once-removed, too—little Isaac, just turning nine, figured this out. His relationship to playmates he only sees once in a while, but oh my goodness, what fun. 

Chatting with Mom, the family’s true matriarch, after the ceremony, I told her “all seventeen from my family are here today.” She looked at me puzzled. All seventeen? Yes, Mom. My sons and their families, not counting one in the womb—this is how many we are. Crazy, I know. 

I was there, in the delivery room, when the bride was born. There with my sister, second-hand learning about an epidural, thinking what a fool I’d been for not knowing sooner. And there to see that little pink head come into the world. Pink like her daddy, and a little bit like her auntie, too. Over the years, there would be people who would see my sister’s two girls—one dark and suntanned like Gina, and one strawberry fair—thinking the little one favored Auntie Sonya. But really she’s “just like Daddy, but a girl.” To borrow a line from Brian’s wedding speech. 

It was a perfect day, and totally overwhelming. So many of my people.

He counts the number of the stars;

he gives names to all of them.

Psalm 147:4

I feel like Abraham multiplying like the sand on the seashore, the stars in heaven. Who would have thought it would happen like this? 

Partway through dinner I’d use my phone to capture the row of sons across the table, and I’d have a moment of recognition. Of reckoning. Looking at a portrait I see the reality my naked eye somehow missed. I am the mother of MEN. Later in the evening, I’d take out my phone and show my own Auntie Bonnie, “Look at how old I am. Look at all these men.” Bonnie’s eyes held tears all night long and I wondered what it must be like looking back over a whole beautiful, complicated lifetime. 

Right then I noticed from the corner of my eye, my own father walking side-by-side with his youngest grandson, up a flight of stairs. My parents have grandkids the same age as mine. My youngest brother and my firstborn son became daddies together. Now at 82 years my dad climbs that flight of stairs—56 steps, he counted, saying it’s one less than our 57 at the lake—up and down with Theo like it’s nothing special. Can you imagine? 

My sister was stunning. Mom of the bride, nearly twinning with her maid of honor daughter. She said, "I was the only one in the family not crying during the ceremony" and I reassured her—me too when it was my turn. Not a tear shed at one wedding, due in part to the overwhelm of so many people, and so many details, and don’t worry, sister, the emotions will remember what to do when they’re least expected. Later when you stumble upon some little remnant of your baby it’ll pierce you like a sword in the heart. 

The day after the wedding, our Anderson clan began receiving photos from our family photographer. Kiana has mostly traded her business for a season of parenting four littles, but once in a while she’ll shoot a special occasion—like this one. And while she captures memories Grant herds the four, with a bit of assistance from the village—and especially those first-cousins-once-removed. Jack and Isaac are a few years older than Nash and Bo, but you should have seen how utterly cute they all were, playing together. Everyone who noticed said, isn’t it too bad those boys live so far away in Colorado? My favorite mental snapshot, don’t tell the bride. 

Finally the night came to an end and we all lined up with our glow-sticks and ribbons, wishing farewell to Anika and Maddox. The groom is from the south. Texas. Where they’ll be living, at least for a while. Every reception toast named Maddox as the best of all of us, and now we wave and cheer as he carries our sweet girl away to her new forever. And I think of my sister. Mom of the bride. Remembering this moment with four sons—never a daughter—and I can only imagine. 

Those snapshots are going to be treasures.