Nine years ago today I woke up thrilled and absolutely ready to marry John.
It was a magnificent day—sunny and clear. And I knew by the end of the day I would be Mrs. John Buettner. I couldn’t wait.
As impatient as I was for our life together to begin, though, I was also determined to take mental snapshots throughout the day. And it’s good that I did because the “real” photographer did a terrible job. The only photos I have from the day were taken by my sister-in-law Katie Beyer, my friend Marcy, and a few other friends, and I will always be grateful to them.
My talented friend Sarah made our gorgeous, delicious cake.
Still, even after nine years, I remember so much about that day.
I remember leaving my parents’ home that morning with my father.
I recall how long that aisle at the Cathedral of Mary Our Queen looked when he and I started walking in. I don’t remember what we thought of that made us start laughing, but I know we laughed most of our way up the aisle. It’s a long aisle.
Then my father lifted (or threw?) my veil…
…and my hand was in John’s.
We prayed and sang and held hands during the most beautiful wedding Mass we could ever have imagined—with Fr. Lawrence Adamczyk celebrating and Fr. Thomas Pietrantonio, OFM, concelebrating.
I wish I had Fr. Larry’s wedding homily online so I could share it with you. It was amazing and written just for us, the first couple he married. We listened closely to every word he said.
I remember receiving the Eucharist together and marveling at how we had been joined as a couple forever.
Then we were off to the reception, with minimal posed photos because I just wanted to enjoy the day. And we did.
My main memory of the day is looking at my husband—my husband!—again and again and realizing we were reflecting each other’s joy.
I was never a girl who dreamed about her wedding day or worried much about the details. (My mother bought the bridesmaid dresses for $8 a piece at Value City before John even proposed, and then called me at work to tell me what she had done.)
Dancing with my father
Our wedding day was perfect—a celebration of us centered around the Mass, and marking the day that would begin so many more days together.
That day, as I danced in my gown, I could never have known that by our ninth anniversary we would have traveled to the other side of the world twice to adopt our sons, or that we would be homeowners for the second time.
We’ve had a few surprises along the way. And there will be more. What a blessing that we will face them together.