Category: Marriage

Married in September (6)

So now we're married. (Actually, we've been married sixty-four years and one day. We celebrated our marriage at Grand Lake Lodge where we spent our honeymoon. Went yesterday and returned this afternoon. The aspen were astonishingly beautiful.)

This is the poem I gave to Les sixty-four years ago on our wedding day. Please do remember it was written by a seventeen-year-old.  

For Les on Our Wedding Day

I come to you, beloved,
with all I am and own
I bring the gift of love
to you alone

I come to you with faith
although we cannot see
the days ahead–nor all
that is to be

I come to you with hope
that love will surely bring
a truer note of closeness
a song to sing

I come to you with joy
and yet I leave behind
my girlhood and its dreams
the ties that bind

I come to you with love
and in your eyes
I catch a glimpse of love fulfilled
and paradise

I come to you, beloved,
with all I am and own
No one else can bring this gift–
I come alone

(Excerpted from This Path We Share: Reflecting on 60 Years of Marriage, (c) 2010 Lois Tschetter Hjelmstad)

More tomorrow…

 

Married in September (5)

Today is the 64th anniversary of our wedding. 

[Les and I are heading out for an overnight getaway at Grand Lake Lodge in the Rocky Mountains, where we spent our honeymoon. We plan to skip the dingy wedding-night-hotel this time. Been there. Done that.]

So in honor of our anniversary, I can describe our wedding no better than to quote from This Path We Share: 

Late afternoon sunlight, softened by the stained glass windows, caught in my white tulle veil and reflected on the simple white satin gown my mother had made.

I trembled as my father and I walked down the aisle of the small chapel of University Park Methodist Church, but Daddy steadied my arm. My ten-year-old sister, Jannie, and our cousin, Laurel, angelic in identical peach dresses, had lit the ivory candles in the candelabra on each side of a large bouquet of peach gladioli.

Did they stand next to my maid of honor in her borrowed sof-green dress? Was Les' brother Wendell, his best man, standing next to Les? I don't know. I saw only Les.

He waited at the altar–tall, ramrod straight and lean, like a fair-haired Vikiing–smiling, although his right fist tightened and relaxed, tighted and relaxed…

When the minister pronounced us man and wife, euphoria descended over me like a second veil. My dream had come true… I was Mrs. Les Hjelmstad.

(Excerpted from This Path We Share, (c) 2010, Lois Tschetter Hjelmstad.)

All I can say is that we are still the world's luckiest people.

more to come….

Married in September (4)

(continued)

Somehow Mother, an excellent seamstress, managed to fix that huge hole in the maid of honor dress. She tore apart the skirt, unruffled some ruffles, stretched the material a bit, and stitched it all back up. No one could notice.

Today is the 64th anniversary of the day before the wedding. Les and I went to the church to meet with our pastor and receive a bit of marriage counseling. I think he said something about praying every day and making sure that Les managed the money. Actually, how much counseling can be done the day before the wedding? We couldn't even concentrate. 

And, as far as we were concerned, we didn't need to be advised. We had it all figured out. Riiight.

As Les dropped me off at my home, he whispered, "I'll see you at the weddding." Then he kissed me, and disappeared into the mist.

He'll see me tomorrow, I thought. I'm marrying him tomorrow.

If it had been now, rather than then, I think I might have added, OMG!

I packed that evening, well aware that it was my last night in my little room. Mother and Dad came down to say evening prayers with me and we all cried.

To be continued….

(And don't forget there is going to be a surprise.)

 

Married in September (3)

(continued)

Because my maid of honor had no more money than I did, I had borrowed a pale green bridesmaid's dress from another friend. (Les and I each had only one attendant, except for those two cute little candlelighters.)

And today is the 64th anniversary of the day that my mother, while pressing said dress, burned a hole the size of the iron right in front. The same day that a carful of unexpected company arrived from South Dakota. The same day I hemmed my wedding dress. All this two days before the wedding. Yikes.

And I commented in my diary:

The rehearsal went off well. It will probably be a beautiful wedding. I feel so detached and unconcerned. It is as if I were overseeing someone else's wedding – not mine.

I think I must have been in shock. 

More to come…

 

Married in September (2)

(continued)

As it turned out, Les did find a place to stay for our wedding night – at an old hotel (The Auditorium). Whew! No more worry about that. Just deal with drab and dreary. Or not notice at all.

So this is the 64th anniversary of the third day before our wedding. The only thing I will say about it is what I wrote in my diary that night:

Boy, will I ever be glad to drive away with Les Sunday afternoon and never ever go through this again. And please, God, let all my children be sons?

[As it turned out, we have three sons and one lovely daughter whom I would not give up for anything.]

More tomorrow…