Our daughter, Chloe, is one who marches to her own tune.
She always loved to dress up…no matter the costume.
As a preschooler, it was not uncommon for her to be in a Barney the Dinosaur costume throughout the morning, only to change into Woody the Cowboy for the afternoon.
And, dance. She loves to dance. From the age of three, she was at home in the dance studio—growing from a little ballerina to dance in the role of Snow Queen during a performance of “The Nutcracker”.
On Saturday, she’ll dress up in a beautiful white dress—the one I knew was perfect the moment she walked out of the dressing room.
She'll walk down the aisle with her father as the bridal march is played. And, she’ll stand at the altar of our church with Cameron, the love of her life at her side, in perhaps the biggest role for the two of them as they begin their lives together.
I rented the 1991 version of “Father of the Bride” a few nights ago—in part to show her dad he was behaving as expected and to not be surprised if I began calling him “George” in these final days leading up to the nuptials.
This version was released in theaters just a few months after John and I said “I do”—long before we knew we would have a daughter of our own and would one day watch the movie with a whole new perspective.
We laughed. We cried. We laughed until we cried.
A Facebook memory a few days ago gave us a good laugh. It was a December day, eight years ago, a certain young lady in our house was in tears.
It seems her favorite Jonas Brother—Kevin—tied the knot. Any mention on the television or notice of photos on magazines while in the check-out lines prompted tears in her eyes (and, admittedly, a chuckle or two from her dad and me).
But, come Saturday, her dad and I will be the ones with tears in our eyes—but, not tears of sadness. Tears of happiness and hope for these two.
And, we’ll be counting our blessings as we watch them begin to write their next chapter.