Mother of the Bride

Twenty-six years ago I was pregnant with my first born. I began a lifetime habit of pouring energy, love, and life into this new person that I had the great honor and blessing of nurturing for a while. It was a little like gardening…on steroids!

Her grandmothers’ namesake, Laura Jean, finally arrived—two and a half weeks late. Maybe I should have taken that as an omen of the way that this child would grow into a woman with ideas and passions that she would express in her own way and in her own time. But I was too thrilled to see anything but the miracle that she was.

She was a good baby. A curious child. An ornery teenager.

She was totally dependent upon me. She wanted the shelter of my presence. She couldn’t get far enough away from me.

People told me early on to enjoy little ones; they don’t stay that way for long. I reveled. We played. We explored. We went on adventures. We made memories. Lots and lots of pictures. Books and art and music surrounded her. She inhaled them. We traveled the country. It whetted her appetite for the world.

Pride? How have I not burst? For a couple of years she was the center of the universe and then adroitly shared the constellations with her sister. The determined artist. The insatiable academic. The big-hearted friend. The generous lover. The pusher of limits and convention. The intentional achiever.

Laura Jean has blossomed into a young woman with spirit and soul. An artist seeking truth and beauty. A believer in justice. A realist who still wants to believe in idealistic notions. A smart, grounded, headstrong, able thinker and doer.

She met a man that is her match; her fit; her equal; her partner. When she first called to tell me about him part of the conversation referred back to an earlier discussion of what we wanted in life; we don’t want to settle; we want more. “Momma,” she said. “Get this—his last name is…Moore!” Dave Moore brings out the very best in her. She laughs like she did when she was a child—with the same trusting abandon. He challenges her opinions and supports her dreams. He courted her. He wooed her. He called and said he wanted to marry her. I told him they were two grown adults and they didn’t need my permission, but that if he wanted my blessings upon their union, they would have that unequivocally.

So then there was a party to top all parties (and we’ve had a few good ones over the years) to arrange. It was a pleasure to hear her organizing the plans and coordinating schedules and making it happen. She let me help…but sometimes I got the feeling it was more out of deference than need. We got silk dresses tailor made. Million, jillion details. Lots of family and friends and pre-wedding fun. A few little glitches. My friends stepped in and hosted the most amazing (fun!) reception.

On 7.27.08 Laura Jean + Dave = Wedding happened. I got a swell son in the deal. And you know what? She became Laura Jean…Moore. How cool is that?