Kayla has asked me what this nostalgia thing was going to be about and I told her "oh, just memories and stuff..."
It is interesting to sit at a wedding and remember holding the groom in your arms when he was a newborn baby. And it is interesting how one memory leads to another, and then another, until you can sit back and sigh in contentment or you can collapse in a puddle of tears at how quickly these children have grown up.
Ryan was born during my freshman year at college, and since I went to school in Arkansas, I didn't get home much to see him as a little one. I spent more time with his older sisters because I was in high school when they were babies/toddlers. I have always thought; however, that it was very thoughtful of Ryan to be born on Thanksgiving Day during my freshman year. At least I was home on break and could see him a little bit before going back to school.
So back to the wedding. When Kara, age 3, walked in with her fancy hairdo and dress, I of course was taken back to my wedding day when her mother, my second niece, was one of my flower girls. Michelle was ALMOST 3 on my wedding day. Michelle was a little blondie and Kara has dark hair. Other than that, it could have been Michelle walking down that aisle. I have never seen a child look more like a parent than Kara. Her face, her mannerisms, her movements. It is amazing.
So that memory of Michelle, of course made me think of her older sister, Angela, my first niece. She was also a flower girl at my wedding. Five years ago, when Angela got married, wearing my wedding gown and my sister's veil, my daughter was her flower girl. I remember looking at her wedding pictures and remembering her as a little girl at my wedding and realizing again what a blessing Angela has been to our family. Here's why.
Angela came into our family when she was 18 months old. Her mother had been married before and so when my brother Terry married Carol, we got an instant grandaughter/niece. I believe, to the very core of my being, that Angela was sent by God. I often kind of laugh that her name is so close to ANGEL.
Soon after my brother got married, my great grandmother (my mom's maternal grandmother)Grandma Hale had a stroke. She died about a month later. Grandma Hale had been my mom's rock. Having lost her own mother when she was 26, my mom became very close to Grandma Hale. We NEVER missed a Sunday afternoon at Grandma Hale's - even after we moved 50 miles away. We four kids used to walk by her house and stop in after school and have cookies and ice water (before we moved out of town). I remember staying at Grandma Hale's house one evening while my parents went out. She made a TRIPLE batch of chocolate drop cookies and just watched us all evening run back and forth to the kitchen and eat EVERY ONE OF THEM (because that's what grandmas do) Well, there were four of us afterall. My mom told me that when my brother Clint was 4 or 5, she left him with Grandma Hale. When she got back Grandma said he had cried a little when Mom left. Until Grandma got out her cutting board and a small hammer and nails. She sat down and helped Clint hammer nails into her cutting board. To this day, those nails are still in that wooden cutting board. Anyway, I know that Grandma Hale helped my mom through many, many rough times, including a divorce; and I know her own life is a testament to what a remarkable woman she was. Her death was devastating to my mother. Especially since my mom suffers from clinical depression. The loss could very well have been crippling.
But there was Angela. I was in high school during all of this and I remember Mom picking me up from track practice with Angela. Angela would come running down the hall and jump into my arms. Then she'd spend the evening with us. Or the whole night. Or two nights. Or three nights. Everything quickly became about Angela. If Angela wanted a bath at 4 in the afternoon while she was visiting, she got a bath. If Angela woke up and cried for Aunt Heidi, Aunt Heidi (gladly) got up and put her in bed with her - even at 3 in the morning. If Angela wanted apples peeled and sliced, Angela got her apples peeled and sliced ON EVERY VISIT. Uncle Clint would drag her through the house on a blanket. Or he'd grab one end of the blanket and I'd grab another and we'd swing her in it like a hammock. Over and Over again we'd swing her while she sang "Rock-a-Bye, Rock-a-Bye".
It was all about taking Angela for ice cream and buying cute little clothes for Angela. When is the next time we'll see Angela? The pile of gifts for Angela from Grandma on Christmas was easily twice as tall as she. Because that's what grandmas do. Angela did not run roughshod over all of us. We had not given control of the family to a toddler. But we all had a place to put our grief because of Angela. God knew that the way to restore joy to our hearts was to bring us a child. And Grandma Hale would have agreed completely. I honestly don't know how my mom would have handled the loss of her grandmother if Angela had not been placed into our lives.
Terry legally adopted Angela when she was four. And it was just a legal thing. Because she was already his. She was already ours. If you could have seen my brother give her away at her wedding, and then watch him dance with her at her reception, to Louis Armstrong's "It's a Wondeful World," you'd know exactly what I mean.
So that's the nostalgia. From my nephew's wedding, to my own wedding, to my niece's wedding, to grief, and then joy. Because of a little Angel. Plus "a".
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