I must admit that I'm not a big fan of wedding planning. I've never been one of those girls who dreams of her wedding day - and certainly not about a dress, flowers, or table settings. Growing up with two brothers, I spent a lot of my childhood in the woods building forts and making mud-pies, or playing dinosaurs vs. transformers (or reaching potatoes vs. frogberries). I spent the past two weeks excavating the ruins of an 18th century mansion - with my bare (ok, sometimes gloved) hands, one bucket of rubble at a time. For the longest time, I hated the idea of being feminine. If someone said I'd make a good housewife all they would receive in return was the classic Laura scowl.
At some point in college I came to terms with being a woman. It had nothing to do with wearing pink, shopping for bras, or putting on makeup and everything to do with loving, caring, and giving of myself in a uniquely feminine way. I love to cook, bake, and host small gathering with friends. I love to take care of people, listening to their woes and sharing in their joys. I am ecstatic about marrying Paul and God willing, having children in a few years. To me, this is what it means to be woman - though I recognize that to each woman, femininity means something a little different.
If only everyone else understood. Dresses, flowers, and table settings - that one day - are all ephemeral. I have a good man who loves me, and on our wedding day we will make promises to each other and to God. That's what matters. That's what I'm excited about. That's what I'll plan for.
