By the time Chelsea returned with the tulle, the old woman was potting collections of multi-colored hyacinths in some old cracked pots. She grabbed the offered bolt of tulle from Chelsea's hands and began cutting lengths of it and wrapping the pots, tying a large fluffy bow with long streamers on each one. Although the pots were not the same colors, nor the same size, there was actually an elegance about the collection of them. "Wow," thought Chelsea, "These are actually...", and the last word in fact exited her mouth, "Magnificent!" The old woman never looked up, but a small half-smile formed on her dry, cracked lips.
In total, the old woman had made eight boutonnieres (she said she made an extra one to give to the pastor), the corsage for Derek's mother, ten potted arrangements, and filled a grocery bag with copious amounts of both Gold Stocks (to use how and where, Chelsea didn't know), and Goldentuft (for which she instructed Chelsea to pull the flowers and throw handfuls along the middle aisle floor to represent "walking the golden way" (whatever that meant). The work was done and Chelsea had no choice but to ask the inevitable, "How much do I owe you for all this?" Holding her breath, she waited for the old woman's answer. "How's fi'teen sound?"
"What??? Fifteen dollars???"
"Yer right, that's a bit much, ain't it? Weddin's is 'spensive enuf, ain't they? Let's say twelve. Kin ya do twelve?"
Chelsea stood there not responding at all. Her mouth was agape, her eyes were open about as wide as possible, and she kept shaking her head from side to side, trying to ascertain if she had heard the old woman right. After a full two minutes, she simply nodded her head, then watched the old woman and the young girl, who had already begun loading them, pack the wedding floral treasures into the car's front passenger seat, the floor below it, the seat and floor in the back, and the entire trunk.
Placing a twenty dollar bill on the produce/flower stand, Chelsea walked back to her car and took one last look at everything just purchased, then closed doors and the trunk. As she was opening the driver's door to climb in, the old woman hobbled around to her, grabbed both Chelsea's hands in her own two old crooked-fingered ones, and bowed her head. "Jesus, ya created all these flowers an' ya created this young woman an' her sweet man to love. Thank you. Now make this the most beautiful weddin' they could ever 'a' thunk of." She gave a final squeeze to the bride's hands, and Chelsea drove off, knowing that somehow the Lord would honor this old woman's prayer. Although how all this circus color would fit in, she did not know!
*****
Chapter 3
KiirstiAan's email to me:
Well, Evan and I have been reading this story together, but had to stop, because Evan and I both started crying. (I just love that he cries at movies and sad stories... Well, maybe I mean emotional stories.)
That old woman that helped Chelsea with the flowers just got to us until I was actually sobbing. What makes me like that?! But, I didn't feel so silly when I looked over and Evan had this one big tear rolling down his cheek.
Old people get to me anyway. They just seem so helpless, but add to the mix that she seemed to have such a heart for the Lord, and I was hooked! We both loved the way she prayed with Chelsea at the car. Precious old thing.
By now you know I was serious when I told you to do the whole wedding-planning thing yourself. I might feel guilty about it, but when you told me you did the same thing to Grandma, I guessed you'd understand. I just don't care about that stuff, and I know you will make it gorgeous.
Anyway, I hoped you wouldn't mind if we went with Evan's idea this time. He just mentioned to me this evening that he has a personal friend who has a florist business and he would like us to use him. Is that ok? Actually, I assumed you wouldn't mind it at all, since the wedding date is so close and you haven't been able to locate a florist who will take on that big of a project this close to the date.
Thanks, Mom, for all you're doing!
My email reply to KiirstiAan:
I know what you mean about the little old lady. Wasn't she a sweetie?!
No, Honey, I don't mind at all going with Evan's friend for the flowers. I've called so many florists within a twenty-five mile radius, and am convinced there are none who'll take us on. I am so relieved. A real weight has been lifted off my shoulders.
Have Evan either give you the man's name and phone number and you can give it to me, or Evan can call me himself. Thank you, thank you, thank you. I'm sooo relieved.
Let me know what you think of the rest of the story.
KiirstiAan's email reply to me:
Oh, Mom, I can't believe I almost forgot to say anything.
When I called Tricia yesterday to ask if she'd be one of my bridesmaids, she asked if she and Mark could make our wedding cake. (You know I told you they started a catering and wedding cake business this year. They don't have a shop yet. So, they're doing it at their house. She said they've already been given four orders for wedding cakes.) She said that you and I can give her a picture of what we want and they'll duplicate it.
Anyway, I just couldn't bring myself to tell her no. She and Mark are so pitiful trying to get this business going. She said that would be their wedding gift to us. I know they don't really have any extra money for a gift. (BTW... She was so excited when I told her you are paying for all the bridesmaid dresses. She told me flat out that she couldn't have been in it if she had had to buy her own dress.)
Have I totally blown it accepting her offer?! Please tell me you haven't already paid for one to be made from somewhere else.
My email reply to KiirstiAan:
To be honest, Sweetie, yes I have another bakery commissioned to do the cake. I paid them a two-hundred and fifty dollar non-refundable fee.
I guess it'll be ok for Tricia and Mark to do it. Do they have enough experience? Have you seen any of their cakes? It makes me a little nervous not knowing their skill level. No, actually it makes me a lot nervous not knowing what their skill-level is.
But, the cake I selected was going to be twelve hundred dollars, so we're still ahead financially, I guess.
Yes, Cutie, it's ok.
Just do me a favor, Sweetie Pie. From this point on, don't make any decisions before talking with me first, unless you prefer to plan the wedding yourself with me just helping you. And, BTW, that would be fine. I wouldn't be offended. We need to keep a handle on the budget, but other than that, I'm amenable to whatever you want to do.
We just want your wedding to be everything you want it to be!
KiirstiAan's email reply to me:
No, I still want you to plan the wedding!
Thank you, Mommy! Thank you for helping me keep my word, and for not freaking out over this. You're the best!
Gotta go. Evan and I are going to have some dessert and coffee and finish the story.
(Still can't help thinking about that old woman. Wish I knew who she is, where she lives, if she's even alive. I think I'd go get some flowers from her... a whole mess of 'em.)
Chapter 4
As she drove back the ten miles from the "florist stand" to the country church, she quickly checked her watch. Today's timing was not turning out to be as Chelsea expected. Lunchtime would be here soon enough. Her stomach was growling for a bit of sustenance and the car needed some gas, and she needed to get going if she was going to get back to the church at all. Stopping at a Gas-n-Grab, she put three dollars of fuel into the tank and while paying at the inside checkout, grabbed a bag of chips. She really could use some healthy food, but there was no time, no restaurants, and no money left to spend on a meal. The chips would have to do.
Another twenty minutes and she was pulling into the parking lot to the side of the church. The dirt parking area, the stone steps to the church entry, and the faded and peeling paint on the church exterior seemed charmingly Country Shabby Chic when renting the facility, but at times like this moment, when she needed to walk the flower arrangements through the rain-produced mud, the charm was wearing thin. Her rose-colored glasses were a bit murky, to say the least.
All flowers and arrangements were now lined up on the church front steps. They did look sweet, but was she willing to totally give up her vision of white, cream, and ivory?
Well, there was already the green of her attendants' gowns, so it's not like she was not having any color. Plus, she had purchased them, and something in her memory about the way that old woman lovingly designed them, then prayed with her before she left the stand tripped a switch in her that told her she simply must use them.
Grabbing the largest two hyacinth-planted pots, she opened the church doors and walked into the church sanctuary. Both were heavy and she ultimately had to place one on the floor and carry the other one to the front, where she set it down to the left of the pulpit, already adorned with beautiful roses. She didn't even analyze how it looked. She simply went to the back and picked up the other pot and marched it up to the front and placed it to the right of the pulpit. Stepping down from the elevated stage, she took maybe three steps, turned back and gazed up at the flowers.
Oh my... they looked really sweet! After blinking at them a moment or so, she exited the church and grabbed the next two smaller ones. This time she walked at a very clipped pace back up to the pulpit and distributed these two pots on either side (and slightly to the front) of the large pot to the left of the pulpit, almost touching the large pot. By now, she was so excited that she literally ran out the church doors, returning with yet another two pots, and placed them into a cluster with the large pot on the other side of the pulpit. That made two clusters of three pots each on either side. Oh, my goodness... Was she delirious, or was this as adorable as she thought it was?!
Four more pots remained, each with three different colored hyacinths shooting out of them. She put two of them at the back of the church in the vestibule, one each on either side of the guestbook stand. What to do with the remaining two pots? Huh!
Ok, let's see... She didn't think any more of them were needed in the sanctuary or vestibule.
She walked out the church double doors and stood. Should she just leave these last two pots of hyacinths on the church steps? She placed them on each side of the top step leading to the doors. It didn't seem quite right. Maybe she should place them on either side of the church doors. No, that wasn't right either. Taking a quick look at her watch, she noted that time was rapidly getting away from her, and she was due to meet her attendants down in the bride's room at 2 p.m.
Leaving the two pots where they were and looking back in the church through the open doors, she spotted the two clumps of flowers she had left on the floor in the rear of the sanctuary. She walked purposefully to the Goldentufts. Quickly pulling handfuls from their stems, she sprinkled the small flower petals along both sides of the middle aisle, creating "the golden way.” That old woman was right, it does look like some kind of regal walkway on which the bride should enter.
What to do with the Gold Stocks. They weren't very impressive looking flowers, just a long stalk at the end of which was a completely round ball of golden flora. Her first impulse was to simply toss these in the nearest garbage receptacle, but she realized quickly that she just couldn't do it. So... what to do? What to do? No inspiration answered her twice-asked question.
Walking up the right outside aisle, she proceeded to the front of the sanctuary with a cluster of five or six of them. Calculating nothing, and with no inspiration whatsoever, she poked all of them into one of the pots on the stage. Then, she spread them out a bit within the same container. The stocks were rather wilted, so that rather than standing erect, they folded over the pot's edge with almost the effect of water cascading over a waterfall. Interesting.
Marching back to the rear of the church, Chelsea grabbed all remaining Gold Stocks and hurried to the front of the sanctuary again. Counting quickly, she found that she could evenly distribute them in the two clusters of pots, which she did, even more quickly than she was already working once she glanced at her watch.
Whoa! Times a-tickin', she thought. She grinned as she caught her mental phrase. She'd never said that aloud in her life, but somehow it seemed right in this rustic setting.
Walking yet again to the rear of the church, she took one final perusal of the entire room. First her eyes went from the roses (the main arrangement), to the hyacinths in their pots, then her gaze slid down the Gold Stocks to the "golden way." Magical! It hit her consciousness for the first time that she actually thought that old woman knew exactly what she was doing with flowers, maybe not by training, but by listening to the Master as He gave her instructions on what flowers to gather for Chelsea's wedding day.
Chelsea took the two boxes that held boutonnieres to the groom's room, which was to the right of the stage, through a door, into what turned out to be the pastor's study. The groom's mother's corsage was placed on the guestbook table. She would ask Delane to pin it on the groom's mother when she arrived.
Walking out the church, closing the doors, Chelsea began pacing back and forth at the base of the steps. Wow, there was a lot of mud here. Her guests were not going to be excited about walking through this to get into the church! One problem at a time. She still had those two extra hyacinth pots.
On one of her turns while pacing and thinking, she noticed that in the open field to the right of the country church there was what looked to be a small white produce cart or wagon, she wasn't sure which it qualified for. It was small, maybe three feet long, had old rusty wheels that looked way too big for this little cart, and a rusted long handle, with which to pull it. The white paint held almost no shadow of its former glory, mostly this was an old wood cart with patches of crusty white paint hanging on for dear life. A small cry of victory escaped her lips as she ran through the mud puddles to retrieve the cart. Bringing it up to the steps of the church, she lifted it up the stairs, set it to the right of the doors, placed the two remaining pots in it, and propped the handle in an upright position.
Country Shabby Chic!
*****
Chapter 5
KiirstiAan's email to me:
Mom,
What exactly IS "Country Shabby Chic"?
I know my wedding theme is "English Country Garden", and I have a good handle on what that is, but when Evan asked me what "Country Shabby Chic" is, I just sat there scratching my head.
How does it differ from Evan's and mine?
My email reply to KiirstiAan:
"Country Shabby Chic" is a mixture of all things country (old vintage distressed furniture, old country churches that desperately need a paint job, etc.), all things shabby (again, old-looking, rickety furniture that has paint worn off it, but clean, not to be confused with dirty, just old and in need of some TLC, old moldy flower pots that are mismatched, etc.), and all things chic (crystal light fixtures, beautiful old lace, white tablecloths, and antique silverware).
I think that's the best I can do for you. Actually, you might want to go online and Google the term Country Shabby Chic and see what you find. Make sure you look it up in Google Images.
Also, in Country Shabby Chic, garden flowers are important. Either whites and creams are the order of the day, or... bright multi-colored flowers in every hue available. The white and cream thing is more refined, while the bright colorful flowers are more cheerful and fun.
"English Country Garden" is more elegant. It's like its name, I think. English gardens are laid out very methodically and elegantly. Colors are usually blues and pinks. Beautiful wrought iron gates with floral vines and flowers dripping from them. You will fit in beautifully with the theme. Your gown makes you look like an elegant country lady walking through her garden to have a tea party. (Boy, that last statement looks really corny written down.)
You better just Google that term too.
KiirstiAan's email reply to me:
Evan and I Googled both terms. You really nailed them. And, of the two, I love my theme better. Oh, boy, my wedding's going to be gor-geeeee-ous!
Chapter 6
After a few small jumps into the air, and wit
h elation that had never been known to mankind, Chelsea remembered the other problem. Oh, yeah, the mud! Thankful for technology, she grabbed her iPhone out of her jeans pocket and dialed the church pastor's number. After informing the minister of her mud-dilemma, she relaxed when he told her to walk around to the left side of the sanctuary and she would find a large piece of particle board, painted white. He explained that they often propped the board up the steps as a ramp for this exact situation on Sunday mornings. It certainly wasn't fancy, but once she labored to pull it into place, she realized that quite frankly, it just lent an extra layer of Country Shabby Chic.
Extra two hyacinth pots in cart. Mud puddles covered in front of church. Check and check. Everything was back on track!
Chelsea was a couple of minutes late in arriving to the bride's room, but only three of her four attendants had arrived so far. Because the room was entered through a basement door at the side of the church, it was possible that her fourth attendant was out front, wandering around, trying to find where to enter to join the other bridesmaids. The groom and his attendants weren't supposed to even get there until one hour before the wedding.
Because Chelsea's father was so ill, he had been unable to attend the rehearsal last night and the dinner afterward, so it was agreed that at 2 p.m. today, he would join Chelsea and her attendants at the church. His tuxedo was hanging in the groom's room. Chelsea was grateful, as she gazed at it, that Delane had driven him here in her visiting parents' RV, and that he was able to come at all, for that matter. She had told Chelsea that she would take full responsibility for him today, bringing him now and taking him home anytime he required, after the wedding. How blessed she was to have her father present to walk her up the aisle, and also claim Delane as her own selfless friend. Chelsea didn't discover until later that on her own, Delane had taken the tux to the RV, along with the boutonniere for her dad.
A Wedding Disaster... Or Was It? Page 2