Read Online Chicken Soup for the Bride's Soul by Jack Canfield - Free Book Online
Authors: Jack Canfield
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date.”
Long ago, her father and I made up our minds to listen to her and do things the way she wanted as much as we could. And of course, I was thrilled she was getting married. I was always secretly worried that marriage was too “old-fashioned” for her. She was a child of the ’60s, eager to right the wrongs of the world, to live life on the edge and to never be part of the “establishment.”
Well, backyard weddings can be lovely, I thought. It’s not our beautiful church with a majestic organ, flowing white dress or bridesmaids. But, still. . . . I took an upbeat approach, which was really the only sensible thing to do under the circumstances.
Later with dates arranged, a guest list of sorts (our family and best friends and “a bunch of friends . . . we’ll let you know how many”) and the food decided on (“only veggie stuff and some champagne”), she agreed I could ask the minister of our church to perform the ceremony “for legal purposes.”
All negotiations were going well until I mentioned the wedding gown. “No special dress, Mom. Sorry. Your first daughter, your good daughter [said with a wry smile, a favorite family joke] did the white dress and veil thing. Not me. I have lots of clothes that would do for a wedding.”
I thought of all her dresses (short, wild, braless) and realized that she mostly wore jeans or cut-offs. Nothing I had seen her wear in years even whispered “wedding” to me.
So in the following days, ignoring my own good advice to let her do it her way, I wandered around different stores and looked at dresses that might do for my bride-to-be daughter. Then I saw it: simple, unbleached muslin with a shirred waist, scooped neckline with just a bit of Irish lace and little capped sleeves. It was long, but not floor-length. It was graceful, but not formal. It was lovely and simple, and it was my daughter.
Envisioning her wearing it, I bought the dress and took it home.
Later that day I placed the box on her bed with a little note stating: “I just happened upon this while shopping (okay, a small white lie). This looks like you. Would you try it on for me?”
When she came in that evening, she went to her room and all was quiet. A bit worried I had hurt her feelings with my purchase, I went upstairs to her room where she sat on the bed holding the dress on her lap while tears rained down her cheeks—and she was smiling.
“I never knew you thought of me like this, Mom. The dress is so lovely and soft and simple. I love it. And I’ll love wearing it for the wedding. Thanks for knowing me so well.”
Two weeks later, on a sun-filled afternoon, friends gathered in our backyard. Our daughter walked down the steps—to the strum of a guitar—smiling proudly in her surprise dress. She looked wonderful, like I knew she would.
It was a perfect wedding . . . almost.
Had I known her fiancé would be wearing yellow paisley bell-bottoms, I might have shopped for him as well!
Julie Firman
Priceless
H ow beautiful a day can be when kindness touches it.
George Elliston
We had shopped for hours, my mom and I, and we were having a ball. We knew in our hearts that we would find just the right dress. Five months remained until the wedding; we had plenty of time and we had lots of patience. And then we found it—at J.C. Penney’s Bridal Shop.
I stood on a dark-blue carpeted platform, surrounded by mirrors. The clerk brought gown after gown for me to try. I felt like a queen, admired by my mom perched in a cozy, overstuffed chair. As soon as she zipped the back of the third dress, we both knew we had found the one.
I never felt closer to my mom than when she fluffed out the train and said, “This is it. It’s you.”
The moment burrowed its way into my heart and my memory.
Which is why I was so touched by the lovely young lady now trying on my wedding gown.
I was having a yard sale to pick up a little extra cash. I had many things to sell when the young woman and her mom
Long ago, her father and I made up our minds to listen to her and do things the way she wanted as much as we could. And of course, I was thrilled she was getting married. I was always secretly worried that marriage was too “old-fashioned” for her. She was a child of the ’60s, eager to right the wrongs of the world, to live life on the edge and to never be part of the “establishment.”
Well, backyard weddings can be lovely, I thought. It’s not our beautiful church with a majestic organ, flowing white dress or bridesmaids. But, still. . . . I took an upbeat approach, which was really the only sensible thing to do under the circumstances.
Later with dates arranged, a guest list of sorts (our family and best friends and “a bunch of friends . . . we’ll let you know how many”) and the food decided on (“only veggie stuff and some champagne”), she agreed I could ask the minister of our church to perform the ceremony “for legal purposes.”
All negotiations were going well until I mentioned the wedding gown. “No special dress, Mom. Sorry. Your first daughter, your good daughter [said with a wry smile, a favorite family joke] did the white dress and veil thing. Not me. I have lots of clothes that would do for a wedding.”
I thought of all her dresses (short, wild, braless) and realized that she mostly wore jeans or cut-offs. Nothing I had seen her wear in years even whispered “wedding” to me.
So in the following days, ignoring my own good advice to let her do it her way, I wandered around different stores and looked at dresses that might do for my bride-to-be daughter. Then I saw it: simple, unbleached muslin with a shirred waist, scooped neckline with just a bit of Irish lace and little capped sleeves. It was long, but not floor-length. It was graceful, but not formal. It was lovely and simple, and it was my daughter.
Envisioning her wearing it, I bought the dress and took it home.
Later that day I placed the box on her bed with a little note stating: “I just happened upon this while shopping (okay, a small white lie). This looks like you. Would you try it on for me?”
When she came in that evening, she went to her room and all was quiet. A bit worried I had hurt her feelings with my purchase, I went upstairs to her room where she sat on the bed holding the dress on her lap while tears rained down her cheeks—and she was smiling.
“I never knew you thought of me like this, Mom. The dress is so lovely and soft and simple. I love it. And I’ll love wearing it for the wedding. Thanks for knowing me so well.”
Two weeks later, on a sun-filled afternoon, friends gathered in our backyard. Our daughter walked down the steps—to the strum of a guitar—smiling proudly in her surprise dress. She looked wonderful, like I knew she would.
It was a perfect wedding . . . almost.
Had I known her fiancé would be wearing yellow paisley bell-bottoms, I might have shopped for him as well!
Julie Firman
Priceless
H ow beautiful a day can be when kindness touches it.
George Elliston
We had shopped for hours, my mom and I, and we were having a ball. We knew in our hearts that we would find just the right dress. Five months remained until the wedding; we had plenty of time and we had lots of patience. And then we found it—at J.C. Penney’s Bridal Shop.
I stood on a dark-blue carpeted platform, surrounded by mirrors. The clerk brought gown after gown for me to try. I felt like a queen, admired by my mom perched in a cozy, overstuffed chair. As soon as she zipped the back of the third dress, we both knew we had found the one.
I never felt closer to my mom than when she fluffed out the train and said, “This is it. It’s you.”
The moment burrowed its way into my heart and my memory.
Which is why I was so touched by the lovely young lady now trying on my wedding gown.
I was having a yard sale to pick up a little extra cash. I had many things to sell when the young woman and her mom
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