Her daughter's bridal shower is today. Her only daughter's only bridal shower. It should be special. It must be special. And Tammi is feeling the pressure.
We explored the angst a bit and concluded we very much want our children to know how much they mean to us.
I felt it before my children's birthday parties. I had this one day, this one event to express how dear they are to me. Would these paper plates and napkins make them feel special? This wrapping paper? This game for their friends to play? Would if I could I would buy them a ride in the Space Shuttle to show them they meant the world to me. What if whatever I do isn't enough? This fear robbed me of the joy of preparing for their parties.
Tammi's daughter, Kyleigh, is special to me. I remember the day her mom told me she was expecting her as we stood by the trunk of her car in the Chino McDonald's parking lot. I rejoiced with her. Tammi and I have known each other since birth, and our parents were best friends, so this is a longstanding friendship between our families. Our children grew up as friends and shared many happy times together.
Because this family is so special to me, I am experiencing some of the same angst I experience before I do something for one of my own children. I am helping with Kyleigh's bridal shower today. I purchased some meaningful gifts and wrote a family recipe out for the bride to be. I was asked to give a blessing at the shower and chose to read a poem about marriage written by my and Tammi's piano teacher. This morning I was searching the wrong book for the right poem I had in mind and was physically shaking. What if I don't find the poem I'm thinking of?
Something not so good happens when I think something should be special. It happened on my trip to Israel. The places I visited I thought would be the most special I had heightened anxiety about. The garden tomb, for crying out loud. Would that not be the most special place? I found myself mostly "in my head" at such places. Sometimes my brother, who led the tour, would say, "Okay, guys, get ready for a goosebump moment. This is one of those amazing places," and that, along with my own already heightened anxiety, always killed it for me somehow.
But the most meaning-filled times were when I noticed things that caught me off guard: the wind blowing the trees above me in Capernaum; the frivolity of my brothers dancing while my sister-in-law belted out in song, "Oh, here comes Jesus, see Him walking on the water," while we were on the Sea of Galilee; the little Jewish boy on a trail who, with a bright smile, said to me, "You from America? You are good here."
My Aunt Barb told me once, when I was wound up about preparing for Christmas, "Christmas is special not because we make it so. Jesus has already made it special. How can you and Jesus prepare for the celebration together?" I think of that this morning as I prepare to go to Kyleigh's shower. The event is already special. Kyleigh is already special. Jesus has invited me to be part of this joyful celebration.
Something I realized years ago comes to mind: I am not the whole bouquet. Women will gather today, each bringing gifts and well wishes, each bringing her affection for the bride-to-be. Decorations will be placed and strung, food will be served, gifts given, and love will be expressed in a way one person alone could not express love. It will all come together in a beautiful, one-of-a-kind bouquet.
And I get to be part of that. I am not the bouquet arranger, I am not the bouquet itself, but I, with my poem and packages in hand, am a flower in the hands of the florist, who is already there and is arranging it all.
And that sounds like enough.
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