April, 2017:

As a new month opens, I’m eagerly looking forward to a trip to join daughter Linnea and her family in their Florida home. Five grandchildren await me there, and renewing relationships with them will be pure pleasure.

A special treat will be taking granddaughter Emerald along with me this time, giving her a chance to play with some of the cousins she loves that are usually hundreds of miles away.

       (l. to r. – Autumn, Emerald, Micah, Grandma holding Nelson, Skylar, Isaac)

As a result of all this excitement, I’ll be pausing the “Young Love” blog for a couple of weeks, but before I sign off, let’s find out if Meg’s bridal gown was ready or not….

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Friday, November 28, 1969

As I burst through the doors of the bridal shop in search of my wedding gown, several sales ladies saw my stressed expression and jumped into action. “Miss Johnson?” they said. “Your lovely gown is all ready.”

And I could finally exhale.

One of the women headed to the back of the store while the others fell all over each other making apologies, offering me coffee and cookies, doing their best to smooth things over while I waited. It had been so long since I’d seen my dress, I wondered if I’d even recognize it.

Finally the lady returned with my satin gown draped gracefully over both of her arms as if she was showing it off for the first time. “What an exquisite choice you made,” she said, in an emotional, breathy voice. “It’s stunning. We want you to try it on, just to be sure it’s perfect.”

I was frantic to get back on the road, knowing the route to church was a 50 minute ride without traffic. And now a full-fledged Friday rush hour was in progress.

“I don’t have time,” I said, taking a quick glance at the dress, which looked familiar. “Could you put it in a bag or something?”

“Yes, of course! But are you sure you don’t want to try it on? We’d all love to see you in it.”

In an irritated tone I said, “If I don’t leave right now, I’m going to be late for my own wedding rehearsal! Just pack it up, would you?”

Reaching the car, I tossed the bag-with-gown into the back seat and pointed the car toward the city. But just as I feared, traffic was stop-start, and my foot was on the brake more than the gas. I was going to be late by over an hour – and there was nothing to do about it.

Picturing 50 people impatiently tapping their toes at the front of the church without any sign of a bride made my eyes prickle with tears. Would they worry that I’d been in an accident? Or a break-down? Would they think I was late on purpose? And worse yet, what about my poor groom? Would he think I was having second thoughts…. again?

There was no way to contact any of them. Even if I got off the road and found a phone booth, what number would I call? There was no phone at the front of Moody Church’s massive sanctuary, and the church offices were closed. All I could do was grip the steering wheel…. and bawl my eyes out.

“My problems go from bad to worse. Oh [Lord], save me from them all!” (Psalm 25:17)