My brother got married this weekend, and while I'd love to share photos from the day I am sure you've all realized by now that I don't share personal photographs on my blog. So, you'll just have to take my word for it that it was amazing! The bride & groom were lovely, the weather was gorgeous (stinking hot but gorgeous) and I'm pretty sure from the reception pictures I've seen floating around, that everyone had a great time!
Being that my dad is not with us, I wanted to get up and welcome the bride into our family. I'm not a traditional 'speech writer', but more of a story teller. As the time for speeches was coming upon us, I started to worry that it wasn't the right speech. Even though the occasion that we were celebrating was the wedding of my brother and his wife... I really didn't say a lot about them in my speech. Instead I told a story about my dad... I think I had sound reasoning, my brother is so much like my dad that I felt honoring my dad (who obviously could not be there to celebrate with us) would also be honoring my brother. I felt that since farming was such an ingrained part of my dad (and equally so my brother) that sharing the story I had choose would be, well right.
I popped outside the hall as supper was wrapping up and spotted my brother chatting it up with some of the guests. I overheard him talking about how we needed rain and that the area where the bride is from had been getting two rains a day! Goodness (not his words), couldn't we at least get one rain a day! I piped in "but you know that if it rained everyday you wouldn't be happy with that either, right?" and he laughed... nodding his head in acknowledgement. You see, farmer's are fickle.
And so my wedding speech (obviously I've changed the bride & groom's names... they aren't actually named BB & HG)
I promise to keep it short & sweet... but I just wanted to thank everyone for coming out this evening to celebrate our Beautiful Bride & Handsome Groom. We are all so very, very, very happy for them!
I'd also like to a take a moment to share a story with you... it's a little convoluted, so please bare with me... I promise you, there is a point!
The hubs, is a city boy through and through... so marrying a girl from a farm (I won't use the term 'farm girl' because I barely know the front end of the tractor from the rear) came with a bit of a learning curve. My husband is blessed with a keen sense of curiosity. Luckily for him, my father was blessed with patience because he was on the receiving end of many a wild question.
The hubs learned from my dad, that farmers are fickle. One week it could be too dry. The next too wet. One day it could be too hot and the next too cool.
Apparently, farmers have strict parameters for what ideal is.
I can even remember an instance where my dad schooled the hubs on the 'right kind of rain'. I don't know about you, but the hubs didn't know that there was such a thing as a right (or wrong) kind of rain. What makes rain right? What makes rain wrong?
My dad was happy to explain this to him. The right kind of rain comes late Saturday evening (preferably after you've done all the fieldwork that you can accomplish for the week). The right kind of rain is consistent; not too hard so as to pack down the soil (or just runs off because what good is rain if it doesn't soak down to nourish the crops?), and not too gently. The right kind of rain is warm; not cool. And the right kind of rain lasts all day Sunday and stops around supper; so the fields are dry for work Monday morning.
Pretty precise, eh?
My point in all this – Beautiful Bride you are Handsome Groom's 'right kind of rain' and we are so very happy to welcome you to our family.