Wedding Wednesday: The Manteo Edition

Okay. So here’s the deal.  

I announced a couple weeks ago that Wedding Wednesdays would be coming to a close because I was running short on official wedding pictures to post.   But I have some good news on that front.

Nathan and Meagan’s photographer is going to be sending me the wedding pictures in a format that preserves their original resolution which will be great because there were some pictures I wanted to post but wasn’t able to because of the low resolution. (Due to them being transferred from computer to computer.) So when I receive those pictures, I will be able to post a few more from The Actual Big Day.  (And everyone said, “Hooray!”)

Also, I now have a copy of the video of the wedding; however, it’s in a format that I can’t load on my computer. I’m talking to a video guy I know in hopes of getting that whole puzzlement figured out so that I can post a few video snippets.

In the meantime, there’s even more wedding photo news!  

As of last Friday, a whole new crop of Nathan and Meagan wedding pictures came into existence.  And just how did that happen?

Well, Meagan asked me several months ago if I would be willing to take some wedding pictures of her and Nathan when they came to Manteo for Christmas.  Because of time limitations on their wedding day, they hadn’t gotten as many photos of just the two of them as they would have liked.

Well, when she first asked me, my response was to say yes and and to get all excited about it because I love the two of them and of course I love taking pictures. What’s not to be excited about?

But then as I started thinking about it some more, I got worried.

“Oh dear,” said I to myself, “What have I done? Why did I say yes?  I’m not a real photographer like their wonderful wedding photographers, Kristen and Chris.   I’m still not exactly sure what I’m doing and what if Meagan goes to all the trouble of bringing her dress and getting all decked out and I take horrible, awful pictures?”

And then, as I pondered and worried further, I thought that maybe if I just took hundreds and hundreds of shots over the course of our session, just possibly two or three of them might turn out okay and Meagan and Nathan won’t be too terribly disappointed in my feeble photography efforts.

So that was my big plan: the utilization of Scattershot Photography.  Shoot, shoot, and shoot some more and eventually you should hit on something good. (Feel free to tell everyone you know about this amazing photography tool.)

And so last Friday, Nathan, Meagan, Sarah and I took off on a Picture Taking Adventure around Manteo. We got stares, applause, comments, and smiles and I ended up with a rough estimate of one bazillion pictures.  I also gave Sarah my purse camera so that she could join me in the snapping frenzy and with the Scattershot Photography Tip going full steam, we actually managed to get some really lovely shots.

So the good news is that if you all are still up for it,  Wedding Wednesday can continue on for a while longer yet because we’ve got some new beautiful, fun photos to share and some cool stories to go with them. 

 

So.  Having said all that? 

Welcome to Wedding Wednesday: The Manteo Edition

As soon as Nathan and Meagan arrived in Manteo, she unpacked her gown and hung it in Sarah’s room to let the wrinkles fall out. It was actually a little sobering for this mama to see a wedding dress hanging in my 16-year old daughter’s room because all I could think was, “Someday, that will be Sarah’s dress hanging there.”   (sniff)

One of the funniest parts of the whole experience was watching Nathan (in his ubiquitous t-shirt and basketball shorts) help get Meagan into her dress.  Obviously he didn’t have that particular privilege before their real wedding so he lacked a bit of practical experience as a Wedding Dress Donning Assistant.  But he was an awfully good sport . . .

even during those times when he wasn’t sure if he should be hands on . . .

or hands off.

I especially love this shot.

After the dress was finally in place . . .

Nathan morphed from The Dresser of the Bride to the Carrier of the Bridal Gown Train. He’s one multi talented fella, that’s for sure.

Sarah joined her brother in their appointed mission of getting the bride untrippingly from the third floor to the second floor of our home.

It was quite the undertaking.

Once they had safely made it down the stairs, Meagan did some final touch ups to her make up while Nathan exchanged the shorts for a suit.

It was so fun watching the two of them get ready and sharing their joy.

And then it was, “Here Comes the Bride” all over again.

Meagan helped Nathan do some little adjustments on his suit and then . . .

. . . it was out the door for the adventure!

Here’s a sneak peak of a couple pictures we took while we were out and about. 

Oops.  Wrong one.

Okay. that’s better!

There now. Wasn’t that fun? 

Looking forwarding to many more Wedding Wednesdays to come!

Turn Off Twitter. And Don’t Clean The House.

The title of this post is taken from an article I read earlier this morning by Anne Lamott, a fabulous, incredible writer.    I don’t usually make posts of other people’s writing, but since we’re at the beginning of a new year and since this article by Anne impacted me so deeply, I want to share it with you all.

Before we get to it though, let me just mention that tomorrow I’ll be doing a Wedding Wednesday that you won’t want want to miss!

And now . . . here’s Anne. I’d love for you to leave a comment and share with the rest of us what you thought about what she wrote.

 

Time Lost and Found

I sometimes teach classes on writing, during which I tell my students every single thing I know about the craft and habit. This takes approximately 45 minutes. I begin with my core belief—and the foundation of almost all wisdom traditions—that there is nothing you can buy, achieve, own, or rent that can fill up that hunger inside for a sense of fulfillment and wonder. But the good news is that creative expression, whether that means writing, dancing, bird-watching, or cooking, can give a person almost everything that he or she has been searching for: enlivenment, peace, meaning, and the incalculable wealth of time spent quietly in beauty.

Then I bring up the bad news: You have to make time to do this.

This means you have to grasp that your manic forms of connectivity—cell phone, email, text, Twitter—steal most chances of lasting connection or amazement. That multitasking can argue a wasted life. That a close friendship is worth more than material success.

Needless to say, this is very distressing for my writing students. They start to explain that they have two kids at home, or five, a stable of horses or a hive of bees, and 40-hour workweeks. Or, on the other hand, sometimes they are climbing the walls with boredom, own nearly nothing, and are looking for work full-time, which is why they can’t make time now to pursue their hearts’ desires. They often add that as soon as they retire, or their last child moves out, or they move to the country, or to the city, or sell the horses, they will. They are absolutely sincere, and they are delusional.

I often remember the story from India of a beggar who sat outside a temple, begging for just enough every day to keep body and soul alive, until the temple elders convinced him to move across the street and sit under a tree. Years of begging and bare subsistence followed until he died. The temple elders decided to bury him beneath his cherished tree, where, after shoveling away a couple of feet of earth, they found a stash of gold coins that he had unknowingly sat on, all those hand-to-mouth years.

You already have the gold coins beneath you, of presence, creativity, intimacy, time for wonder, and nature, and life. Oh, yeah, you say? And where would those rascally coins be?

This is what I say: First of all, no one needs to watch the news every night, unless one is married to the anchor. Otherwise, you are mostly going to learn more than you need to know about where the local fires are, and how rainy it has been: so rainy! That is half an hour, a few days a week, I tell my students. You could commit to writing one page a night, which, over a year, is most of a book.

If they have to get up early for work and can’t stay up late, I ask them if they are willing NOT to do one thing every day, that otherwise they were going to try and cram into their schedule.

They may explain that they have to go to the gym four days a week or they get crazy, to which I reply that that’s fine—no one else really cares if anyone else finally starts to write or volunteers with marine mammals. But how can they not care and let life slip away? Can’t they give up the gym once a week and buy two hours’ worth of fresh, delectable moments? (Here they glance at my butt.)

Can they commit to meeting one close friend for two hours every week, in bookstores, to compare notes? Or at an Audubon sanctuary? Or a winery?

They look at me bitterly now—they don’t think I understand. But I do—I know how addictive busyness and mania are. But I ask them whether, if their children grow up to become adults who spend this one precious life in a spin of multitasking, stress, and achievement, and then work out four times a week, will they be pleased that their kids also pursued this kind of whirlwind life?

If not, if they want much more for their kids, lives well spent in hard work and savoring all that is lovely, why are they living this manic way?

I ask them, is there a eucalyptus grove at the end of their street, or a new exhibit at the art museum? An upcoming minus tide at the beach where the agates and tide pools are, or a great poet coming to the library soon? A pond where you can see so many turtles? A journal to fill?

If so, what manic or compulsive hours will they give up in trade for the equivalent time to write, or meander? Time is not free—that’s why it’s so precious and worth fighting for.

Will they give me one hour of housecleaning in exchange for the poetry reading? Or wash the car just one time a month, for the turtles? No? I understand. But at 80, will they be proud that they spent their lives keeping their houses cleaner than anyone else in the family did, except for mad Aunt Beth, who had the vapors? Or that they kept their car polished to a high sheen that made the neighbors quiver with jealousy? Or worked their fingers to the bone providing a high quality of life, but maybe accidentally forgot to be deeply and truly present for their kids, and now their grandchildren?

I think it’s going to hurt. What fills us is real, sweet, dopey, funny life.

I’ve heard it said that every day you need half an hour of quiet time for yourself, or your Self, unless you’re incredibly busy and stressed, in which case you need an hour. I promise you, it is there. Fight tooth and nail to find time, to make it. It is our true wealth, this moment, this hour, this day.

The Saga of the Slimy Oysters

(Before I get to today’s post, I’d like to take a minute to wish my most wonderful husband a happy thirtieth anniversary.  No one knows me better, understands me better, or loves me better. I’m so thankful for the past three decades of marriage to this truly amazing man.)

When we went to Charlotte for Christmas, Steve got the handy dandy idea of taking along some fresh scallops and oysters. I mean what’s the sense of residing by the sea if you can’t share its bounty with those you love?

I was fine with the scallops.  They’re actually pretty good wrapped in bacon and cooked on the grill.  But oozy oysters in a shell?  Ick.  I figured as long as those nasty creatures stayed at least one hundred feet from my person at all times, we could coexist in a fairly peaceable manner.

And so we arrived in Charlotte and the Oyster/Scallop Hors D’oeuvres Extravaganza Preceding the Christmas Feast began.

 

Nathan absolutely loved the scallops but wasn’t too keen about the thought of eating a steamed oyster.  However, when I offered to give him $5 to try one, he didn’t even blink.  Cash-strapped newlyweds are all about earning a little extra moola.

Vernie required no bribe at all; she just sat right down, got the oyster arranged on a cracker and munched it on down.  (And may I just say that she has the most beautiful skin.  Can you believe she’s a great grandma?)

Steve’s younger brother, Jeff, was in fine form during the extravaganza, doing the Heeby Jeeby Dance as a way of poking fun at those of us who were sitting on the sidelines, shuddering with horror at the very thought of eating oily oysters.  (If you didn’t know, the Heeby Jeeby Dance involves sticking both arms out and waving them around while turning in a circle.  Jeff got lots of practice at it.)

The Smith Men (Steve’s dad, two brothers, and Nathan) continued to enjoy their seafood mini buffet.

Everyone was having a great time and everything was going along just swimmingly when suddenly, inexplicably, the mood changed.

Things turned ugly. 

Eyes turned toward . . . me. 

“Me?” I squeaked pitifully?  “You want me to eat an oyster?  I think NOT!” 

I took a few steps back  from the proceedings so that the alien nasty oysters couldn’t crawl out of their slippery shells and start stalking me around the deck.  I was absolutely appalled at the thought of putting any slimy gray creature from the sea into my mouth.

However.  Some arm twisting proceeded to commence and after trying to say no seventeen different ways, the situation eventually degenerated to the horrific point where a little oyster fella perched himself on a cracker and headed my way.

I cannot believe I am smiling at the oyster; I should have been screaming and gagging.

From that point on, it was not a happy sight.  I am sparing you the worst of the faces I made, but I’m sure you can tell by the ones I’ve included that the whole experience was ranked right up there with childbirth in the Enjoyment Department. (That white thing is a napkin that Steve gallantly applied to my person before the trauma began.)

In closing, I would love to say that a good time was had by all; however, the oysters and I would have to respectfully disagree.

(All photos by Meagan Smith)

Comments

Rachel said, “Just love these pictures...  I can't help but wonder what the temperature is in your house. It seems like Nathan is usually wearing shorts and a t-shirt when he is home...yet Meagan is in a sweat shirt and the rest of you are somewhere in between. lol”

Rachel, that is a very good question.  I truly think that if Nathan lived on an iceberg in the arctic, he would still choose to put on his t-shirt and basketball shorts.   So I guess you should get your hints as to our house’s temp from our clothes—NOT his!  (And we keep it at about 71 degrees.)

Lizz wrote, “Sue G, your post (comment) brought tears to my eyes! Favorite parts "and especially for the miracle of the Life about Whom we celebrate this season" and "What I like about LOVE is that it can't be bought...but it sure can be returned!!!!" I love the last one so so much! I'm going to use it as much as possible! Wishing you many more Christmases!”

Lizz, I just love it when people use this forum to build other people up.  And if anyone deserves a compliment on writing, it would be our friend, Sue.  Thanks for drawing attention to yet another one of her wonderfully penned comments.

Karen said,  “Off topic: I would like to share Sarah's story with this family (https://www.facebook.com/pages/Prayers-for-Adler-Shelbourne/333068460055780), but wanted to check with you first. I would love to give them some hope for their little Adler.”

Karen, we would love for you to share Sarah’s story. Giving hope is what it’s all about!  

Today’s Guest Blogger: Meagan Smith!

Yes, you read that right.  Meagan is writing today’s Smithellaneous post!  She is going to tell you about the picture below that I included in a recent Wedding Wednesday. When I posted the picture, I didn’t look real closely at the ring that was in the box;  it was only this week that Meagan told me about that ring’s significance.  When she finished telling me the story I said, “Meagan, would you please write that story for Smithellaneous?”

And happily she said she would.

A Ring and Two Promises

By Meagan Smith

My sisters and I are close in age with only two years separating us from each other; because of this, we’ve had the opportunity as we were growing up to become very close friends.


As we grew up, our parents initiated what we dubbed rites of passage. At ten, we were able to cut our hair. At twelve, we were able to wear make-up and shave our legs.  At fifteen, we were promoted to eye make-up.


Fifteen years old was also the age when we received our promise ring. This was a special time when each daughter was taken out to a nice dinner with our parents and they would discuss with us the importance of saving ourselves for our husband and for our wedding night.


As time would have it, December 20, 2002, was the appointed day for me to receive my ring; that evening found my mom, my dad and myself cozily tucked away in a booth at Carrabba’s Italian Grill. I had chosen a beautiful baguette diamond ring to remind me of my promise I would make that night.


After we ate dinner, my mom took the ring out and set it on the table in front of me. My dad began to talk to me about the promise I would make that night to save myself for my husband. They explained how this promise was not one that I would only make to them, but also to God and to my future husband.
As I put the ring on that night, I made a vow before my parents and God that I would save myself for the one He had for me. It became very real to me as we sat at the table and prayed that God would help me in the years to come. I was making a vow not only to protect my body, but also my mind and my eyes from the things that would take away from that vow of purity.


It wasn’t just the ring that helped me keep the promise but it was also the many prayers of my family and myself as I got older that reminded me every day of the vow that had been made sitting in that booth in 2002. I wore that ring every day for nine years. And every day I would pray, “God help me keep my promise for one more day.”


Then in 2009, I found him, the man of my dreams, the man I had prayed for so many years. He was handsome, tall, smelled good, was a childhood friend, was good with money, was funny, had a great family, loved kids, loved Jesus--and did I mention he looked good? His name was Nathan Smith and he was a psychology major one year behind me in school, but what does age matter?


We began dating on June 19, 2009, and continued the relationship until February 26, 2011 when he asked me to marry him and spend the rest of my life with him. That night was the first time my promise ring had ever been replaced with another ring. It also meant my second promise would begin just five months from that night.


On July 23, 2011, I sat down in the dressing room of the church where I was about to be married and penned words to my soon-to-be-husband of the promise I had kept to God, and my parents, and him.


I explained to him once again the importance of the ring and what it meant to be able to truly give him the gift of myself on our wedding day. I wrote everything he was to me and expressed how excited I was that my promise had been kept for so many years. I could not think of a better man to give this gift to than him. He was a true answer to my prayers and God had given me the desires of my heart through him.


As I walked down the aisle toward my husband-to-be, holding on to my daddy’s arm with my family, friends and God watching me, I could not have been more thankful that a promise was made, a promise was kept and a new promise was about to be made. Only this time the promise would not be to save myself, but to give myself whole heartedly.  The promise would not be for only nine years, but it would be for a life time.


(Edited to add:  A comment was left asking if Nathan had made the same commitment and he did; he just didn't have the ring to wear.)


Thanks, Meagan, for sharing the beautiful story of a beautiful promise!
And just to make this entry all the more meaningful, tonight is the night that we have chosen to present Sarah with her own promise ring.  She asked Steve and I if we could wait and do our ceremony until Nathan and Meagan got home so that they could take part in it.  (Which I think says a lot about how much she thinks of the two of them.)


So tonight Sarah will make her own promise of purity, surrounded by a family who loves her.  What a joy it will be to see the tradition continue as we wait with her to meet the man that God has set aside to be her husband.

The Calendar Confused, Jet Lagged, Whiplashed Blog Experience

Okay.  Just so you all don’t get a bad case of Calendar Confused, Jet Lagged Whiplash, let me just mention that I am rewinding time just a bit (a nice little trick, if I do say so myself) so that my upcoming blog posts have some semblance of order in the space-time continuum.  (Naturally, I have no idea what a space-time continuum is, but it’s another one of those things I’ve always wanted to use in a post.)

However.  There is some small possibility that you may become even more slightly kind of confused by the fact that that I’m rewinding time to such an extent that I’m actually rewinding it back to a point before a point I have already written about. 

But really, the only reason I’m even rewinding things that far back (besides finally getting the chance to type space-time continuum) is that there were a few little pictures from our Airport Pick Up last week that I wanted to include but didn’t.  And so before I fast forward to the rest of the rewound week, I wanted to rewind far back enough revisit those rewound and unvisited photos.

Got that?

Good.  Then let’s get started.

Since the Norfolk airport wasn’t very busy when we arrived to pick up our very own personal Royal Couple, Steve and Sarah had plenty of space to walk forwards as well as backwards on the moving sidewalks, just to see what would happen.  My family is easily entertained.

When we had finished our moving sidewalk entertainment extravaganza, we moved on to the gate area to await the Big Moment.  Of course, when you’re at an airport greeting your son and new daughter-in-law for the first time since their wedding, you can’t possibly just stand there and smile quietly and demurely when they appear in view.  No, you have to clap, scream, and cheer wildly.

Do you see the lady on the right who is turning around to stare?  It’s only because we were being just a wee bit loud.  (Yes, even my demure little self was being loudish.  Right in public.  It was historic, I tell you. Historic.)

A few minutes later, there was cause for even more staring as Steve tried to walk up the down escalator.

Well, actually, what he was trying to do was just stay in one place without moving up or down.  The little girl to the right was obviously entrance with his efforts.

After getting home from the wild shenanigan-ish airport experience, we allowed the newlyweds a whopping 1.2 minutes of rest before we launched into the making of our pancake/bacon/scrambled eggs dinner which we whip up each year on the night we decorate the tree.

Meagan was also inducted into the Smith Family Christmas Antlers Club. I know she thought she became a Smith on July 23, 2011,  but it actually didn’t become official until until she donned yon antlers.

Getting the ornaments on the tree was rather entertaining since Nathan was behaving in his best Golden Retriever Puppy Dog Fashion.

Then our (three) children instructed Steve and me to stand in front of the decorated tree and look entranced.

This is about as entranced as I get.

It was so much fun having Nathan and Sarah together again …

…along with our newest Smith.

Hard to believe that I’m no longer sitting beside a College Dude but a real married fella!

A married fella whose shorts-clad legs made a nice frame for the decorated tree.

This year, Steve went out and bought a third stocking for Meagan.    I told him not to buy a nice one because it had to go with the ones we’ve had for Nathan and Sarah all these years.  Meagan asked how long the Smith Kids would have stockings hung up for them and I told her that it would be a long, long time—probably until each of the Smiths Kids is at least 75.   (Which would make Steve into into a rather ancient Stocking Filler but it’s a job he loves so we have decided not to fire him.)

Since we opted to wait for Nathan and Meagan’s arrival in order to do many of our Christmas traditions, we had to sort of smoosh the activities pretty closely together; therefore, the pancake/tree decorating night was followed immediately by the gift opening night. 

Since Snowy considers himself to the Big Dog around here, his self-assigned task was to sit in the Man Chair with Steve and assist him with the reading of the Christmas Story.  (He even donned his little Christmas sweater for the occasion which, unfortunately, detracted a bit from his Big Bad Dog Persona. But don’t tell him I said that.) 

Also, unfortunately, Big Bad Dog Snowy was struck with a gargantuan doggie yawn just as the story was beginning, so it turned out that his inspiring presence in our midst wasn’t all that wasn’t that inspiring after all. Entertaining, yes.  Inspiring, no.

The Smith Kids listened quietly to the story, a story they’ve heard every Christmas and many times in between--a story that still brings them to a place of peace.

And then we opened gifts.   And talked a little.  And laughed a lot.

We also (big surprise, I know) took a lot of pictures.

Here’s one I caught of the new sisters whom I have hereby dubbed, Smithsters.  (Cute, I know.)

 

And then for the finale, my pastor’s kid children told me that it would be funny if I took a cookie and pretended like I was smokin’  a stogie.  Can you tell I’m a bit out practice in the stogey-smokin’ department?

Oh well.  It made them laugh.

Alrighty then!  That’s it for today’s edition of the Calendar Confusion Jet Lagged Whiplashed Blog Experience.

And in future posts?

The story behind this picture.  And much more! 

Wedding Wednesday. Or Not.

Happy Wednesday to you!   


After giving it a little thought, I decided it would work out better schedule-wise to postpone this week's Wedding Wednesday just a little since I'm many days behind in posting and need to use today to catch up with what's been going on over the past week.


We may (or may not) have a surprise (or two) for you to reward you for waiting a little longer so please don't be too terribly awfully mad at me for the delay.  I know we have some staunch Wedding Wednesday Aficionados out there which have made Wedding Wednesdays all the more fun.


Thanks to those of you who left comments about some of your favorite Christmas memories these year.  I enjoyed reading each one so much and was alternating between smiles and teariness the whole time I read.  Thanks again for sharing.


Okay.   I know I said today was a catch up day but since I don't have my Catch Up Day Post written yet, please check back in a little while.  I just wanted to get a little something written to let you all know Wedding Wednesday would be postponed.


Be back soon!   


   

Update Paucity

All is well here in Smithellaneous Land.

We've been coming and going in a variety of permutations and directions for the past three days and much of that time, my computer has not been able to get Internet access. (I'm writing from Steve's mom's comptuter at the moment.)

So at any rate, that explains my paucity of updates.  (I've always wanted to use the word paucity so it looks like today was my big day!)

Much more to come as the week progresses...in the meantime, would anybody care to share what your favorite memory or part of Christmas was this year?  A gift?  A surprise event?  An unexected blessing?  A family stress that  was less than last year? A sweet moment?

I always love to hear what's going on with you all! 

Home Again

We went to the airport on Friday to pick up some certain some ones.

Nathan’s magic gestures helped the tree to get decorated in no time flat.

Meagan was sweet to capture a picture of the four of us.

So thankful these feet are home again.