Shannon here: Women’s fiction author, Cynthia Ruchti shares her wedding story plus a chance to win a copy of her latest release, When the Morning Glory Blooms. Comment on any post dated April 22 – 26 to get your name in the drawing. Deadline: May 4th, 11:59 pm central time. Here’s Cynthia:
It was the 70s. What can I say? I thought bridesmaid dresses with green and blue flowers splashed all over them would be “far out, man.” With my husband-to-be still in college and me just finishing technical college, the budget for the wedding was so tight, it squeaked when we walked down the aisle. I made all the bridesmaids’ dresses, made my wedding dress, and made the flower girl’s dress. I made the flowery vines that twined around the support posts in the basement of the church where we had our reception. But I couldn’t make the weather behave.
After planning this wedding for YEARS (I was all of 20, but my dreams had been hard at work since grade school), I could point to the spot in my file folder where it talked about what to do six months ahead, six weeks ahead of the wedding, six days, six hours, six minutes… And I followed the plan faithfully.
Along the way, I got used to the idea of trimming down my hopelessly romantic dreams—number of guests slashed in half (not the guests, the list), choice of flowers changed from roses to daisies (still not fond of daisies today), a modest honeymoon rather than an extravagant one (see other blog post), cake and punch rather than a full meal, which meant not a candlelight evening wedding but a 1:30 in the afternoon wedding so everyone would have eaten lunch first and not expected more than cake, ice cream, and mints.
It was the 70s. What can I say?
I wore my hair pulled back, which my roommate from college still reminds me was a mistake with a forehead that big. I had tight tendrils in front of my ears. (It was the 70s.) Long, elegant sleeves. High, ruffled collar. And did I mention it was an August wedding?
It was the 70s. At six in the morning on my wedding day, it was in the mid-70s. My romantic self thought that was perfect, if it just stayed that way. But the temp continued to rise and the humidity raced to catch up. By the time the first notes of “The Wedding March” sounded, both humidity and temperature hovered around 100, in a 100-year-old church with no air conditioning.
Big box fans rattled and rumbled through the ceremony, barely keeping enough air flowing to prevent heat stroke. My lovely tendrils in front of my ears hung as limp as abandoned reins on a horse bridle. My long sleeves and high neckline no longer seemed like an elegant idea.
By the time we and our guests descended to the basement for the reception, we were looking for the coolness rather than the cake. But the cement floor in the basement was so humid with condensation, it was as slippery as an ice rink, which all the little old ladies in the church found a bit threatening, as did anyone in heels.
My husband and I stayed at the reception as long as we could without passing out from the heat, or from the charley-horse that made his calf cramp up when it was time to kneel, then said our goodbyes and headed off in a ’67 Chevy for our honeymoon. One of the first things we did was stop at a drive-in for something to drink other than the super-sweet sherbet punch served at the reception. I opted for root beer. (It was the 70s.) Most of the root beer landed in my lap.
The romantic dreams I had for that perfect day melted in the summer heat and humidity.
When I see brides-to-be planning elaborate, budget-busting, elegant, pull-out-all-the-stops weddings, I shake my head just a little. Practically nothing went as planned on my wedding day. But we’re celebrating our 41st anniversary this August.
About Cynthia: Cynthia Ruchti tells stories of Hope-that-glows-in-the-dark through her novels and novellas, nonfiction, speaking for women’s events and retreats, and writers’ events and retreats, from a history of 33 years as writer/producer of The Heartbeat of the Home radio broadcast. She currently serves as Professional Relations Liaison for American Christian Fiction Writers (ACFW). Her books have been honored through RT Reviewers’ Choice, Retailers’ Choice, Family Fiction Readers’ Choice, Gayle Wilson Award of Excellence, and as a Carol Award finalist. Her recent release–When the Morning Glory Blooms (Abingdon Press Fiction)–received a top ranking of 4.5 stars and a Top Pick. She and her plot-tweaking husband live in the heart of Wisconsin near their three children and five joy-producing grandchidren. You can connect with Cynthia at http://www.cynthiaruchti.com/, http://www.cynthiaruchti.com/books/when-the-morning-glory-blooms, www.facebook.com/cynthiaruchtireaderpage, and www.twitter.com/cynthiaruchti.
About the book – When the Morning Glory Blooms: Becky rocks a baby that rocked her world. Sixty years earlier, with her fiancé Drew in the middle of the Korean Conflict, Ivy throws herself into her work at a nursing home to keep her sanity and provide for the child Drew doesn’t know is coming. Ivy cares for Anna, an elderly patient who taxes Ivy’s listening ear until the day she suspects Anna’s tall tales are not just idle ramblings. They’re Anna’s disjointed memories of a remarkable life. Finding a faint thread of hope she can’t resist tugging, Ivy records Anna’s memoir, scribbling furiously after hours to keep up with the woman’s emotion-packed grace-hemmed stories. Is Ivy’s answer buried in Anna’s past? And what connects them to Becky?
Becky, Ivy, Anna–three women fight a tangled vine of deception in search of the blossoming simplicity of truth.
Come back April 24th for Cynthia’s romantic interview!