A Wedding Disaster... Or Was It?

by Sheila Holmes

  Taking no more than five minutes to get into her wedding gown, Chelsea didn't bother with hair, makeup and veil. Her purpose right now was to give her ailing father an opportunity to have a practice run at walking her up the aisle in this large princess gown. He was now seated in the church, just waiting for her to call him out to the front church steps, where he would provide her an arm to hold, walk her into the sanctuary, down the aisle, be instructed exactly as to what his further contribution would be to the ceremony, then be whisked off into the borrowed RV parked at the church's rear, where he could take a nap before being helped to dress in his tux for the actual wedding.

  All four of Chelsea's attendants were now present and accounted for, none of them dressed in their gowns. They each sported whatever casual clothes they arrived in, planning to dress and complete their makeup and hair within the last couple of hours of the ceremony. Right now their only job was to assist Chelsea however needed.

  Asking Delane to go into the church and bring her father out onto the church steps, Chelsea then sent the other girls off to go down into the fellowship hall to do some mundane last-minute preparations.

  Chelsea's dad was in the front right pew with his head bowed. Delane knew he would be praying, and that it would be petitions on behalf of Chelsea and this wonderful man God had provided her.

  Delane did as she was bid and asked Chelsea's dad to come join her on the steps, and told him to be prepared for how large her skirt was. She noticed his pallid color, frailty, and general lack of wellbeing, and made some silly comment about if he got tired walking Chelsea up the aisle, the skirt of her gown was so huge that he could just lie down on it and Chelsea could drag him up the rest of way to the pastor and her waiting groom. All he could manage was a half-smile as he slowly walked back to the entry of the country church. Delane remained in the sanctuary, picking up and re-poking in two Gold Stocks that had fallen out of the pots up front.

  While waiting for her father to come outside, Chelsea stood on the plywood board that covered the steps of the church and muddy bog at the base of them. She patted and adjusted the folds of her gown, thinking to herself that all things considered, her wedding plans had come together relatively easy, only marred by the moments divided between the cake incident and the circus-colored-flowers situation. Both had been tamed into submission by God's Grace. The same Jesus who told the storm, "Peace. Be still," and it did, had resolved the two issues of her wedding, for no other reason than His Love for her.

  Resting in a very real and poignant peace that moment, Chelsea was not prepared for what happened next. It was so fast, so unexpected, and as it was occurring, she felt like she watched it in underwater slow motion, knowing there was not one thing she could do to prevent it. Not one thing!

  Chelsea looked up to see her father coming out the church doors and heading slowly toward her down the steps which were now covered with the plywood. Immediately she saw his distress and lack of sure footing. She stood frozen in her beautiful wedding gown, as Chelsea could see the inevitable fall that her father had already begun.

  As his legs crumpled and he began his descent into darkness, she jumped toward him and grabbed him. Her reflexes were fast. But, while she did indeed grab hold of him, she also pulled him back and to the right, directly off the plywood edge and into the soggy grass. She fell at an angle on her right side, with her father's full weight lying on top of her prostrate body. He was out cold, and she couldn't lift him off of her.

  The sound of her scream was unearthly her attendants told her later that evening. She explained to them at that later time that it was born of a combination of physical pain caused by her father's body falling on her, her fear that perhaps he had just died, and knowing that her wedding gown had been trashed in a wet, soggy clump of grass.

  Delane came running toward them with the remaining three bridesmaids directly behind her. As Chelsea continued to cry out, sprinkled with intermittent moans of pain, she and her entourage of attendants pushed and pulled, until Mr. Dayton was lifted and carefully placed prone on the plywood board, head elevated.

  Chelsea jumped up the very moment her father was off of her, and dove for his side. Delane told another of Chelsea's attendants to phone 911. Chelsea was on her knees, pleading with her father to wake up, and after a minute or two, he did just that. He was far too weak to stand up, but at least he was alert.

  "Thank you, Jesus!" was Chelsea's exclaimed prayer of praise. And, if it escaped her mouth once, it rang through the air five or six times more.

  She asked her father how he was. Rather than responding to that question, he said quietly, but firmly, "Call 911 and cancel the ambulance. If you think I'm letting them haul me off and possibly not let me return to give my daughter away, you don't know me very well." Since he had the strength to present this challenge to the cluster of young women, he backed it up by standing. He then simply turned away and walked slowly back into the church and sat on the closest pew, leaving Chelsea standing on the plywood ramp with Delane who quickly phoned 911 to cancel the ambulance.

  It was at this moment that all her attendants, except Delane, let fly what were both screeched and screamed comments simultaneously, "Chelsea, your dress!", Oh, no, her gown!", and "Lord Jesus, what do we do now?!" When Chelsea looked down to where their gazes were cemented, she saw a streak of grass stain varying in widths from one-half inch to two full inches that went up the right side of her gown, from hem almost to her knee, not to mention the engulfing watermark that fully surrounded it.

  This was truly the worst disaster that could ever happen on her wedding day... or was it?

  *****

  Chapter 7

  KiirstiAan's email to me:

  You have got to be kidding!!! Her gown??!!

  I've heard of brides getting makeup on their gowns while doing last minute face repairs before the ceremony, but without exception they were able to get the stain out, either with Resolve (that fabric stain remover), or soap and water. At least I think it was soap and water. Somehow that doesn't seem right. Oh, well...

  No, wait. I take that back. I was a bridesmaid in a wedding where the bride's niece spit up on the gown. It was small, but the stain wouldn't come out. The bride's mom was a quick thinker and had brought along a sewing kit. In it was a tiny little lace applique (two inches across) that she stitched on right over the damage. It wasn't something I would have been pleased with, but it certainly didn't look tacky. In fact, I feel certain that no one noticed it. I guess you just do what you have to do, right?!

  Wow! I guess you just don't know what that magical day will bring about, huh?

  Oh, Mom... you haven't said anything more about venue. Are you having any success trying to find us a church? (Can you believe that our own church doesn't have an appropriate room? According to the scaled model in the foyer, the wedding chapel was supposed to be completed long before now. I never heard why it was decided against, did you?) Somehow I can't imagine trying to pack our little group in a twenty-five-hundred-seat sanctuary.

  Well, I think I've actually taken a deep breath and can go back to the story now. I am still floored that Chelsea's gown had grass stains on it. (What do you use to remove grass stains?) I think I'll Google grass stain removal. See? I really am trying to be thoroughly prepared for a wedding day emergency. Are you impressed?

  Last night Evan and I only got as far as Chelsea's fall in the grass. We got sidetracked trying to find the florist guy's phone number. I think Evan is going to call you himself. Probably to give you a little information on the man. I've never met him.

  Evan said he'd call me this evening after work, and I'm supposed to read the rest of the story to him then.

  My email reply to KiirstiAan:

  No, you really don't know what will or won't happen on your wedding day. I was so sick the last several weeks before your dad's and my wedding. I lost ten pounds. My gown was just a bit too loose.

  On the day of the wedding I looked deathly pale, with a bright red nose.
We had to have a theatrical makeup artist do my makeup that day so our pictures wouldn't be ruined. Up close it was thick and nasty-looking, but at least the pictures turned out beautiful!

  Still contacting churches. I've called about twelve thus far, but I'll keep looking. I might need to go outside the city a bit. We'll see.

  I have to admit, I'm in a bit of a quandary. I don't know if the church is more crucial or the reception venue. I know we want them separate. You've already said you don't want a church fellowship hall reception. It seems like whichever I call and tell them the date, they either laugh and say, "You're not from ‘round here, are ya?", or they just say that I've got to be kidding. One venue actually hung up on me. I think they thought it was a phone prank. Anyway, they're all telling me that churches book weddings about a year in advance. But, don't get nervous. You know me. I shall persevere.

  I have no idea what takes out grass stains. But, you've given me an idea. I've already removed the Stain Removal Guide from the back of our washing machine and put it in the wedding planning tote I carry all the time. Do I get extra points for being so smart?

  KiirstiAan's email reply to me:

  ^5

  Chapter 8

  Not a sound came from her down-turned mouth. From the sight of her ruined dress, the helpless attendants looked up to Chelsea's quivering chin, then further up to see one large tear flowing down from each eye. All the while, Chelsea remained frozen to the plywood board ramp.

  Delane was the first to respond. She took several steps forward, wiped the tears from the bride's cheeks, took Chelsea's hands in her own, and asked a simple question of the bride-to-be, "Chells, do you trust me?" Chelsea only nodded in response. She wasn't sure what the question had to do with anything, but she did trust sweet, honest, talented, and faithful friend Delane.

  "But, more importantly, do you trust Jesus, Chells?" Again, the nod.

  To Chelsea's nod, Delane said, "Come with me," and reaching out she took hold of Chelsea's trembling hand. They walked hand-in-hand to the exterior left rear of the church, then descended the basement steps. Once inside, Delane told Chelsea to remove her gown, once stunningly beautiful, but now thought only to be worthy of residing in a rag bag. Her attendants assisted her. She now stood in her under clothing. No one spoke. Four faces with sad, hopeless countenances, and one face that had a partial, but hopeful smile.

  The smiling face took hold of Keneisha's hand on one side, and MaryAnne's on the other. It didn't take much time for Brittany and the others to realize that Delane wanted them to join hands and gather in a circle around Chelsea.

  "Lord, You have made it so clear that You want Chelsea and Derek to marry. In this church, on this day, with family and friends gathered to support them. I've got an idea, and I am wise enough to know that it comes from You. You're awesome! We love you and we're going to trust You to bring something ridiculously amazing out of this. Thank you, Jesus." And on cue, they all (including Chelsea), whispered, "Amen."

  No one was sure what to do next, so they all just looked to Delane for direction.

  "Chelsea, put on the clothes you were wearing earlier today. Keneisha, MaryAnne, and Britanny, take Chelsea to her dad in the church. All of you help him to the RV, give him something to eat or drink if he wants it. There's stuff in the RV fridge. Then have him lie down. Chelsea, the girls will come back to help me. You stay with your dad. Call Derek first, and tell him that you love him and you can hardly wait to become his wife tonight. Don't mention the dress ordeal. He has enough to deal with today himself. There's nothing he can do from a distance, and you'll be seeing him in a few hours anyway. Then, if you want to, lie down yourself for a while. If you fall asleep, don't worry. I'll come get you when it's time for you to do your hair and makeup, and, of course, dress for the ceremony."

  "But, my gown..."

  "Chells, do you trust me?"

  Pause. "Yes."

  "Girls, I'll meet you in the sanctuary in ten minutes."

  *****

  When Keneisha, MaryAnne, and Brittany entered the church ten minutes later, Delane was already there. The tragic wedding gown was draped across the left side front pew. Delane herself was seated cross-legged on the floor, and had a painter's pallet, all her watercolors, brushes, rags, Exacto knife, and other artists' tools spread around her on the floor directly below the steps leading up to the pulpit. The girls knew that she kept these tools at all times with her when she traveled, and in whatever vehicle she was using, but were surprised that they now lay spread out on the floor of the church, any church. Delane herself looked to be in a staring match with the floral arrangements on the stage.

  As the girls walked forward to join her, Brittany was the first to speak. "Lanie, what's going on?"

  "I've got an idea and I need you girls to help me. But, mostly I need your prayers. I'm going to try something I've heard of and done internet research on, but never tried before. I don't want to waste any time, so I'll just let you know what assistance I need.

  "If one of you could run to the parsonage and ask the pastor's wife if I can borrow a couple of large bed sheets. I need a clean surface here on the floor to work on. And, could one of you go down to the fellowship hall and bring me up a few containers of clean tap water. I also need a few butter knives from the church kitchen. One of the caterers can help you find them.

  "Keneisha, you brought your hair-dryer diffuser, right? Could you let me borrow it? I promise to get it back to you in time for your own use before the wedding.

  "Oh, yeah. For whichever one of you needs to know, the parsonage is the little white house two doors down to the left as you exit the church front doors. The pastor's wife's name is Bernie. Pastor said she doesn't like people to call her by their last name. It makes her feel old.

  "I can't think of anything else right now, but just make sure you stick close to me as much as possible from now on, so that I can get your help when needed. And, in case I don't take the time to do this later... Thank you for being my friends. I love you girls so much. You bless my life."

  After briefly talking with each other, all four of the girls ran out the church in different directions, depending on who was doing what job.

  *****

  While awaiting the attendants' return, Delane mixed watercolors with some fabric fixative from her artist's tool box. She had never used fabric fixative before, but it was a standard in most artists' tool boxes. Delane had read on several artists' blogs just this last week that it could be combined with watercolors, even though most artists on the blog said they'd only used it with latex paints.

  By the time she had mixed five or six pale tints on her pallet, MaryAnne returned with three large bed sheets. Delane asked her to spread them out on the floor in the middle aisle.

  "Lanie, are you trying to blend the right shade of white on your pallet?"

  "I'm not mixing any whites at all. Come up close and see. Tell me if these tints look like they came from the colors in all the flowers in here."

  MaryAnne came up to Delane's pallet.

  "Oh, they're different colors, just really, really light. Yeah, they do look like they're really light versions of the flowers in here."

  "Good. I feel like I'm flying blind here."

  "Lanie, I think they call this 'an act of faith.’” Pause. "When Keneisha and Brittany get back in here, we're going to sit on the last pew together, and when you're not having us run errands or help you, we're going to sit there, join hands and pray like crazy."

  "Thank you."

  She laid the gown out on the sheets, held her paintbrush in hand, glanced back at the three girls who were now seated together on the back pew, took a deep intake of breath and turned back around. From this moment on, Delane tuned out everything and everyone that was in that worship area. She was on a mission!

  Because Delane's back was to them, the girls couldn't see what she was doing. But it didn't matter, because the three of them bowed their heads, closed their eyes, and began praying together. Some
times they whispered in agreed prayer petitions, and other times they each prayed silently. They believed in what they were doing, considering it to be the greatest gift they could offer Delane, and ultimately Chelsea.

  Thirty-five minutes passed. Keneisha lifted her head and saw Delane was standing, looking down at the gown. She squeezed the hands of the others. Almost in unison, they stood and walked up the aisle to where Delane was visually transfixed to the sight on the floor.

  Within one minute, revival broke out in that small country church. The girls were jumping in the aisle, crying, laughing, shouting "Hallelujah!", hugging each other, reverently bowing their heads and praying a simple one-word prayer... the blessed name of "Jesus!" Five seconds of silence passed while they looked back down to the satin masterpiece on the floor, then it began all over again. More crying, more laughing, more shouting of hallelujah, more hugging, and more praising of the name of Jesus.

  Delane reverently leaned down and carefully picked up Chelsea's wedding gown, now a splendiferous work of art. She hung it back on its original hanger, and then from the pastor's study door frame.

  "Lanie, is that going to dry in time for the ceremony?" That came from Keneisha, the ever-practical one.

  "I hope so. Did you bring your hair dryer and diffuser?"

  "Yeah, here it is."

  As she began drying the painted fabric, the girls stood around her, analyzing what beauty Delane had created.

  Using the pale grass stain as the fauna background, Delane had painted watercolor multi-hued hyacinths, Gold Stocks and Goldentuft in and around the stains, as though they were growing in a field. Then, in an arc that began at the hem, surrounded all the flowers, then arced back down to the hem on the other side of the flowers, she painted a dimensional white tulle border with a bow slightly askew from the top of the border, along the wet watermark that had previously been considered a scar on the gown.

  Brittany, who was known for her spiritual discernment, softly remarked, "Lanie, I believe the Lord placed you at this time, in this season, in this place for this one task, just as surely as He did Queen Esther for hers. Girls, the Lord has allowed us to witness His Miracle."