Before I Forget: Sharing my love for God, family, gardens and my sweet Momma
Our Rainbow Wedding
Unless I’m looking in the mirror at my graying locks of hair, I find it a bit hard to believe that I became Mrs. Wayne Winquist 41 years ago this very day. Of course, there are three of the most adorable girls ever and three cute little boys who all affectionately call me “Grandma” now, so I guess that much time passing makes sense.
Much like today, our wedding day was a perfectly warm and breezy summer day in 1976. Though other July brides chose to honor our country’s bicentennial that summer by dressing their wedding party in a patriotic red, white and blue, I opted for the wedding colors I had dreamt about since little girls begin paging through bridal magazines dreaming about being brides. Ours would be a very 70’s rainbow wedding. My bridesmaids each wore a dress of a different pastel color of the rainbow, a big white floppy hat, and carried a beautiful bouquet of daisies that matched the shade of their dress.
It couldn’t have been lovelier.
But there was one glitch. What would a wedding be without at least one funny faux pas to talk about for years to come?
The wedding was scheduled to begin at 2:00 pm at Garfield Baptist Church on Hwy 100 in Wauwatosa, WI. My bridesmaids and I primped and got ready for the event in the room known as “the choir room.” A few minutes before the hour, we slowly made our way together toward the back of the church sanctuary where we would wait to make our entrance and begin our march down the aisle. As we walked, quietly giggling down the long hallway that ran past the gymnasium windows and the church’s “library,” there was a sudden muffled gasp from one of my bridesmaids. My little sister, my bridesmaid dressed in yellow, apparently chose hot pink unmentionables that day. Even though the dresses had built-in double slips, the problem was VERY noticeable from behind.
Fortunate for us, our dear neighbor lady had stayed home from the wedding sick that day. Though I’m sorry she couldn’t come, as the story goes, with a quick phone call from my mother, Dottie hurriedly climbed through an open bedroom window, found the undergarment drawer, and tucked appropriately colored underthings into a brown paper sack, then had her husband Byron drive like the wind to deliver it to the church.
Amazingly enough, we still said “I do” and Wayne kissed his bride by 2:30 pm that day.
Today, we will celebrate forty-one years of crazy glitches mingled with happy blessings, and pray for many more.
I love sharing about my barefoot gardening adventures, hence my blogger name. As I write, some of my other passions might spill out -- like fun with grandkids, baking and sewing endeavors, what I'm studying in Scripture, and the like. My readers will notice that one of the primary things I write about is Alzheimer's. May what I write be an encouragement to anyone who is a caregiver for someone they love with memory loss.
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