September 20, 1969

When the weekend came, I hoped to return to Champaign behind the wheel of a new-used car. Dad’s opinion would have to factor in heavily, since he would be fronting half the money, so I figured we would be leaning into the practical. Nate and I had probably seen our last sports car, but it had been a fun run.

I also knew Mom’s friends planned to surprise me with a bridal shower over the weekend, which seemed almost too good to be true. Presents!

As for Nate, he’d be spending the weekend in Champaign bent over his books. I knew he needed to study, but it was really hard to say goodbye.

At my parents’ house, Lynn (one of my bridesmaids and my oldest friend) came over. We dug into the bridesmaids’ velvet again, cutting out the pieces for the 3 gowns she had graciously agreed to make. And of course our work turned into hilarious fun, too.

After that, Mom and I sat down with her red notebook of “wedding stuff” and ripped through a long list of decisions she’d already researched. We started with a lovely task, choosing the cake.

The bakery said there was a new trend in wedding cakes, frosting them in white as usual but spraying bits of color on them to match the wedding colors. We chose a burgundy spray to go on grapes made of white frosting, encircling each layer. It would be white cake with a chocolate topper to be saved for our first anniversary.

Next, we talked about wedding favors. Mom had already decided on wrapped pieces of groom’s cake packaged in small white boxes with our names on them. She said her women-friends would handle those – folding the boxes, cutting fruit cake, wrapping the pieces, and filling the boxes.

Then we chose the flowers, burgundy-tinted rubrum lilies and wine-red roses for the bridesmaids’ to carry, with a “waterfall” of white stephanotis for me. Mom suggested big white sprays of mums, roses, and gladiolas across the front of the church and centerpieces of pink, red, and white carnations on the reception tables.

My head began to spin, but she continued.

For the head table it would be lilies and roses, and then there was a long list of corsages of many varieties, and of course boutonnieres. She had sketched a picture of glowing candles and giant bows to decorate the aisles (two of them at Moody Church) with wide ribbon-garlands between.

She lost me at about the word “centerpieces” as giant dollar signs throbbed in my head. Poor Dad.

Mom already had a handle on the music. Having played for countless ceremonies, she was a pro. I wanted a traditional wedding, so she suggested Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus” (Here Comes the Bride) for the processional, and Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” for the recessional. Just the words “Wedding March” made her jump to the piano bench and play a grand version of it for me – causing joyful goose bumps!

I had been thinking about music, too, and was hoping for two things: a stringed quartet to play as people were being seated, and a song that would be sung by a very special choir of seven: the bridesmaids. I knew they could all carry a tune and hoped they would agree to do it. It would be a song of thanks to God representing the feelings Nate and I would be having at that moment. Mom liked the idea and suggested the hymn, “Thanks Be to God.”

Thanks be to God for love divine, the hopes that round my heart entwine; for all the joy that now is mine, Thanks be to God!

We were ripping through one item after another when Mom abruptly closed her notebook and said, “How about riding along with me on an errand to Arlington Heights?” I knew it must be time for the bridal shower and hoped I could act surprised.

“The Lord will withhold no good thing from those who do what is right.” (Psalm 84:11)