Life under the Lintel

Since getting back from the beach, we’ve had Lizzy’s swim meets and plenty of VBS work. But the big news this week—this month—this year is that Jeddy’s getting married.

People keep asking me if I’m massively busy with wedding preparations, so much so that I feel like maybe I should be. But here’s a pro tip for you parents out there: marry your sons off to a girl whose mom is a professional event planner.

Jason and I went suit shopping for him, and Ada finished remaking Caleb’s suit, since it didn’t come in a child size, so I had to get him the same size as the six-foot-tall groomsmen who outweigh him by a hundred pounds. But Ada pulled it all apart, cut a bunch off, and put it all back together, and Caleb looks pretty fantastic!

The girls and Jason and I went to the tailor for all our clothes to be altered, which I need to pick up. I’ll combine it with picking up all the groomsmen suits, which are at the dry cleaner’s getting pressed.

Ada has promised to do my hair for the wedding, so we spent some time last week practicing for that. And yesterday I took the girls to the mall for hair accessories and makeup and such.

And the cookies. So many cookies. I only volunteered to make a small fraction of what will be served for the cookie bar at the wedding reception, but I still never want to see a cookie again.

On Saturday night, Maddie’s family and ours got together to (theoretically) learn some line dances, but really it was enjoyable to just have fun together and celebrate a little more the upcoming union. The wedding ceremony, after all, will be, what, twenty minutes long? Thirty? And that one moment when the pastor says, “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss the bride” lasts about seven seconds.

Why do we have such high expectations of weddings? We wait for months and months and years and years for it to happen, and look back on it ever after, but the moment of matrimony is about as long as it takes to tie my shoes.

Because Jesus.

Well, also because when you get a bunch of moms and grandmothers together and all sides of both families for an event that is both personal and steeped in tradition, potential for conflict is, shall we say…elevated.

But also because Jesus.

Created for union with Him, we’re here slogging through the fallout of the fall; which is why the deepest part of our souls and indeed all of creation are waiting and longing for that moment when Jesus claims His bride, His people.

I’m a fan of the traditional white wedding because of how it points to the greater truth that human marriage is meant to signify. The bride, shining and beautiful, glorious and radiant in white, symbolizes the church triumphant, cleansed to perfect purity by Jesus’ blood. She floats down the aisle to meet her groom, just as the church will one day rise to meet her groom, who receives her with a pledge to love her forevermore.

Except Jeddy won’t vow to love Maddie forevermore, will he? He will vow to love her until death do they part. Because we are mortal in this life, we brides and grooms and friends and family. And the triumph of that moment when the pastor will introduce to the assembly “Mr. and Mrs. Jedidiah Miller” will pale to nothing when Christ comes and declares the church His own.

As Ada agreed today, thank goodness she didn’t graduate this year, because I have quite enough going on, thankyouverymuch. Even so, the grad parties we were invited to seemed endless, and fell at the same time as Maddie’s lovely bridal shower.

Maddie’s aunt, when Jeddy showed up at the end in the midst of a zillion swooning women to haul boxes, dressed in the matching Hawaiian shirt that Maddie got him: “Aw, look at him dying to himself.”

Ada and a couple others pulled off a beautiful shower, and then both my girls left the next day for an out-of-state bachelorette overnight with Maddie and the other bridesmaids.

I’ve started working in earnest on VBS; going over needed supplies, sorting through piles of Amazon boxes at the church office, recruiting volunteers.

But then—but then!—we went to the beach.

In a first in the entire history of the world, we said we’d leave Friday morning at 10:00, and we were ready at 9:30, at which point we kind of all stood around looking confusedly at each other.

After an overnight stop halfway at our favorite on-the-way-to-the-beach hotel, we arrived at the beach house, which was new to us this year and was insanely large and fancy.

For Mother’s Day Jason and the kids got me another romantic sunset dinner cruise for the night we arrived at the beach. It was soooo beautiful and relaxing! What a wonderful way to calibrate for vacation.

So as soon as we had run around and seen all the wings of the beach mansion, I changed into a dress that was probably too short, considering the windy conditions, and Ada chauffeured Jason and me to the harbor to board our cruise.

It was lovely despite distant thunder at the beginning and end of the cruise. There weren’t nearly as many dolphins as last year, but the mahi mahi and cocktails, combined with the ocean breeze and full service, put us on the fast track to total relaxation.

Sunday was more family-centered than the romantic Saturday cruise. After having a generous sleep in and some breakfast, we headed to the beach, which was decidedly closer than even last year. We still had to cross a bridge over a lagoon, and the first thing was saw was an alligator trying to eat a turtle that was demonstrably too big for him. He was gnawing on it like a jawbreaker candy. Before we could fumble our phones out, the alligator dropped him and the turtle swam away.

Later, on the beach, we found a gigantic hermit crab inside a whelk shell, still very much alive. He had about a hundred big furry legs like a tarantula.

In early afternoon we fled before a sudden storm back to the house. One of this house’s best features was a big screened porch out back, where Jason and I snuggled up with a cup of coffee, while I tried to count how many times I’ve been to Hilton Head based on photo evidence. It was difficult though, not least because digital photography was barely invented when I first started coming. But it’s somewhere around 18 times.

When the rain stopped, we went in the pool for a while—a decision we were later to regret once we learned that the greenish gray color was unfortunately NOT the bottom of the pool but the actual color of the bacteria-ridden water.

We went for a quick bike ride—a safer and healthier option, as it turns out, and then cleaned up for Grandma’s traditional Sunday steak dinner.

There was a birthday celebration for Jerry after dinner. I don’t know how old he is, but old enough that he was happy to start over with zero.

After dinner and cupcakes I really wanted to bike on the beach, but although Ada and Caleb and I tried valiantly, it’s just no fun at high tide. So we biked around through pretty golf courses instead.

Then we joined some of the others on the beach and the kids played football and goofed off while the sun set and the moon rose.

The kids decided to spell “Caleb” in the sand big enough to see from the sky, for some reason

On Monday, after a brief playtime at the beach, the kids and I took Jason out to the beach club for an early Father’s Day lunch. We got a shady, breezy outdoor spot.

In the afternoon we floated in the pool (as yet blissfully unaware of its bacteria-laden properties), then watched another thunderstorm from the screen porch. After dinner Caleb and Ada and I went for a short little bike ride before Jason and I returned to the beach club for a nightcap.

As soon as we finished breakfast next day, a bunch of us set out for a longer bike ride, but we hardly got down the street before thunder rolled and the get-off-the-golf-course siren went off. We made it home just before it completely let loose.

So Maddie pulled out Dutch Blitz and destroyed us all in a full morning of yelling, screaming, and slapping cards and each other’s hands.

Fortunately we got to the beach after lunch, because it was that afternoon that the pool guy came, tested the water, and immediately ordered it drained and refilled overnight, which is when we learned what color the water was actually supposed to be.

This year the 12-to-19-year-olds took over Taco Tuesday with great success.

The freshly-made mango salsa was a particularly big hit.

That night during our beach club nightcap, Jason and I watched the full Strawberry Moon rise.

Wednesday morning was take two with the bike ride to Harbour Town, which the weather allowed, although it was about 300 degrees. I was so hot afterwards that I got straight into the pool even though it wasn’t finished filling back up (it was, however, clear to the bottom and certified clean).

After a while I had cooled down enough to face the beach, where I floated on gentle waves in my tube while Jason anchored me to keep me from drifting to Africa.

New kite we bought in Harbour Town

That was our night to cook, it being a special someone’s 20th birthday.

Thursday we declared High Commitment Beach Day. We took floaties, the shibumi, sandwiches and drinks and camped out all day. This, unsurprisingly, was the day I got a sunburn (on my armpits), and also the day that I suspect triggered my annual beach rash, which I now think—since completely avoiding spray sunscreen and diligently applying the hypoallergenic zinc kind didn’t make any difference—is polymorphous light eruption—basically an allergic reaction to the sun.

{Me: I think I have a sun allergy. I mean, who’s allergic to the sun??

My very supportive friend: Vampires.}