for complete joy. My knight in shining armor had returned and, to my amazement, in his backpack were flowers he had picked for me.
“All I could think of was you and our wedding,” he told me.
The town was abuzz—a wedding at the North Pole! Santa’s helpers embroidered bride and groom on red hats and the “elves” were all in attendance. A sight to behold, for sure.
We exchanged vows but to my surprise Bob had his own. “My love for you is like a mountain: strong, forthright and everlasting.” My eyes filled with tears as his words echoed in my mind and heart.
After the ceremony we were whisked off to see Santa. Pictures were taken, jokes were made and Santa gave us a beautiful wedding candle. But our most prized gift was our wedding certificate. It reads, “Married at the North Pole. Witnessed by Santa Claus!”
We may have gotten off to a rocky start, but after almost thirty years of marriage, our love for each other is more like the mountain every day. Strong. Forthright. Everlasting.
Eileen Chase
At Ease
P eople who throw kisses are hopelessly lazy.
Bob Hope
Now in their late sixties, the widow and widower, longtime friends before their spouses passed away, chose to marry. The groom—a proud and valiant ex-Marine— arranged the wedding at the unobtrusive Marine Corps Chapel tucked over the gymnasium at Headquarters Battalion USMC, Henderson Hall, in Arlington, Virginia.
At the close of the simple ceremony, my cousin Larry— officiating chaplain—presented the couple to the audience and introduced them as “Mr. and Mrs.” Then he suggested it was time for the groom to acknowledge his bride.
Larry waited expectantly. The bride looked up adoringly. And the small audience held its collective breath, eager to witness the traditional first kiss as husband and wife.
But guests collapsed into gasps and gales of laughter when the feisty groom snapped to attention and, in true military style, “acknowledged” his bride with a proper Marine . . . salute.
Carol McAdoo Rehme
Should We or Shouldn’t We?
A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
Ingrid Bergman
There are some decisions every prospective bride and bridegroom must make before the big day. First, will there or won’t there be cake shoved in someone’s face? And, secondly, what kind of kiss will be shared at the end of the ceremony?
Should it be soft? A light dusting of the lips, to avoid smudging lipstick?
Should it be passionate? A celebration of the moment, a true indication of the feelings involved?
Or should it be chaste? Quiet and sweet, a sign of respect to those in attendance?
Of course, having the conversation is only a good use of time if the arranged plan is actually followed.
In the days before our wedding, Travis and I discussed both questions: cake and kiss. On the first, I was adamant. If the cake wound up anywhere other than my mouth, our wedding night would be stormy. Although Travis agreed not to smash any cake in my face, his wide smile made me wary.
On the question of the kiss, though, we were in full agreement. Neither of us was comfortable with a public display of affection, so we agreed to share a soft, chaste one. This insured the added bonus that my lipstick would remain intact for the photographs.
Then the moment arrived.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said.
Travis looked deeply into my eyes. I tilted my head. Our lips met.
But instead of the quick peck on the mouth we’d agreed upon, my groom gathered me in a very un-Travis-like embrace and gave me a passionate, lingering, breathless kiss . . . Hollywood-style.
I forgot we were in a church.
I forgot the priest was an arm’s-length away.
I forgot a host of family and friends looking on.
I’m not sure how long we stood there kissing, but we paused only when the priest leaned toward us.
“Travis,” he chided, “there are children present!”
To this day, those in attendance still tease
“All I could think of was you and our wedding,” he told me.
The town was abuzz—a wedding at the North Pole! Santa’s helpers embroidered bride and groom on red hats and the “elves” were all in attendance. A sight to behold, for sure.
We exchanged vows but to my surprise Bob had his own. “My love for you is like a mountain: strong, forthright and everlasting.” My eyes filled with tears as his words echoed in my mind and heart.
After the ceremony we were whisked off to see Santa. Pictures were taken, jokes were made and Santa gave us a beautiful wedding candle. But our most prized gift was our wedding certificate. It reads, “Married at the North Pole. Witnessed by Santa Claus!”
We may have gotten off to a rocky start, but after almost thirty years of marriage, our love for each other is more like the mountain every day. Strong. Forthright. Everlasting.
Eileen Chase
At Ease
P eople who throw kisses are hopelessly lazy.
Bob Hope
Now in their late sixties, the widow and widower, longtime friends before their spouses passed away, chose to marry. The groom—a proud and valiant ex-Marine— arranged the wedding at the unobtrusive Marine Corps Chapel tucked over the gymnasium at Headquarters Battalion USMC, Henderson Hall, in Arlington, Virginia.
At the close of the simple ceremony, my cousin Larry— officiating chaplain—presented the couple to the audience and introduced them as “Mr. and Mrs.” Then he suggested it was time for the groom to acknowledge his bride.
Larry waited expectantly. The bride looked up adoringly. And the small audience held its collective breath, eager to witness the traditional first kiss as husband and wife.
But guests collapsed into gasps and gales of laughter when the feisty groom snapped to attention and, in true military style, “acknowledged” his bride with a proper Marine . . . salute.
Carol McAdoo Rehme
Should We or Shouldn’t We?
A kiss is a lovely trick designed by nature to stop speech when words become superfluous.
Ingrid Bergman
There are some decisions every prospective bride and bridegroom must make before the big day. First, will there or won’t there be cake shoved in someone’s face? And, secondly, what kind of kiss will be shared at the end of the ceremony?
Should it be soft? A light dusting of the lips, to avoid smudging lipstick?
Should it be passionate? A celebration of the moment, a true indication of the feelings involved?
Or should it be chaste? Quiet and sweet, a sign of respect to those in attendance?
Of course, having the conversation is only a good use of time if the arranged plan is actually followed.
In the days before our wedding, Travis and I discussed both questions: cake and kiss. On the first, I was adamant. If the cake wound up anywhere other than my mouth, our wedding night would be stormy. Although Travis agreed not to smash any cake in my face, his wide smile made me wary.
On the question of the kiss, though, we were in full agreement. Neither of us was comfortable with a public display of affection, so we agreed to share a soft, chaste one. This insured the added bonus that my lipstick would remain intact for the photographs.
Then the moment arrived.
“You may kiss the bride,” the priest said.
Travis looked deeply into my eyes. I tilted my head. Our lips met.
But instead of the quick peck on the mouth we’d agreed upon, my groom gathered me in a very un-Travis-like embrace and gave me a passionate, lingering, breathless kiss . . . Hollywood-style.
I forgot we were in a church.
I forgot the priest was an arm’s-length away.
I forgot a host of family and friends looking on.
I’m not sure how long we stood there kissing, but we paused only when the priest leaned toward us.
“Travis,” he chided, “there are children present!”
To this day, those in attendance still tease
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