Sandpoint

Well. Part 1 of wedding number three: check.

just realized you can see my bra. oops.

IT'S A MOOSE HAT

that's a real dog. miracles.

something's wrong with this picture
clearly zebras don't have tongues like that

glowing with happiness

if you look closely, you can tell they're smiling

making sure it's all perfect

taking care of business

a little youth group lesson planning

rainbows make 22 hour road trips not so...
suicidal

something about airplane bathrooms both fascinates & terrifies me

Details. They're everywhere.

From how the bouquets should be arranged to where the tables should be set up to have the rehearsal dinner, what to pack, remembering that I'm a bridesmaid and should be helping so I should stop staring at the lake.

I hate those details.

And I've said my whole life that I'm not a detail-oriented person. I can't make mints or candy boxes because I'm a big-picture girl. The whole "the bridesmaids are going to wear yellow heels. Not neon yellow. Not mustard yellow. Sunshine yellow." details kind of make me want to rip out my eyelashes. Especially when they lead me to an escalator on my way to my twelfth store, pleading with God for a miracle because I felt like jumping off said escalator to my death upon smashing into Sunglass Hut. Especially when God answers and I find the heels, and come to realize I don't have my debit card to buy them. And I see what details do to me: begging the cashier to put the heels on hold because I will literally hold this store hostage if I come back and my sunshine yellow heels are gone.

It's details like that that end up with me calling my mom in the car, bawling and stuttering, Mom...sunshine...twelve stores...not mustard...Charlotte Russe...finally...debit card...suicide....so tired...no more weddings...


Somehow she understood.

my ankle collapsed upon my first step & I spilled a bowl of bananas

And I've already judged myself for crying over the rather high sunshine yellow heels, so you don't have to.

Someone's going to have to help me at this reception before I spill more bananas.

And even though details like that make me want abandon all responsibility, grab some alcohol, rip off my swimsuit and jump into a freezing cold lake, I remember the times I actually felt like a good bridesmaid. Like when I was asked to make the cards for the iced tea and water and lemonade. I can take 20 minutes to make curly, pretty cards, and I can do that well. 

Or how no one knew I added a rosy pink to the bride's eyelids because the stark purples and silvers desperately needed some warmth. 

Or that her hair was curled two separate directions so they would lay into the braid better.

I'm realizing I may be more into details than I originally thought.

the line of every mountain range

& every tree

and the distinct sweetness of every piece of candy

and the different cloud splatters

and the pink rays of the sunsets

how Idaho even cried on the day we left

I remember watching her walk down the aisle, my best friend. And as I watched her, it wasn't really the big moments that came to mind. It was the details. The touch of her playing with my hair after a severe bug bite reaction kept me up for three nights in a row. It was the calm in her voice speaking truth to my recently broken heart. It was the tears in her own eyes as she felt my pain with me. The smell of our cheese stick war distracting us from a late-night paper. Her snotty facial expressions during the most boring of classes. The silence as we ate ice cream after a long road trip.

It was the details that smacked me in the face and threatened my dignity at that wedding.

the couple

And I watched as friends embraced their own details. Some expressing their love through capturing subtleties on their camera. Rachyl through her responsibility at playing the songs at the right times. Her father, making sure his daughter didn't fall on the path down the aisle.

And I realized sitting there that I do love details. We all do. The details I love are different than yours. Mine include playing each note with feeling and emotion, recognizing swells and fades, bringing Bach back to life. Appreciating the splatters of bird poop along the sidewalk as I run my miles. Creating PowerPoints for my youth group lesson. Drawing the "Decaf Iced Tea" cards. Making the bride's eyelids look warmer. Some are good at arranging bouquets, others catch moments stunningly on their cameras. Whether with a paint brush and canvas or a calculator and accounting book. Maybe you're staring at your to-do list and I'm staring at the beautiful lake, but we are both delving into the details we love.

 And every little bit just astounds me.