It was around

8 p.m., about two months prior to the wedding, when the call came.

"Aunt

Mary Jane, I need you to write our vows."

I was caught

off guard. I thought wedding vows were in little books that preachers

kept at their fingertips.

"I'm not

sure I can write your wedding vows."

"Yes you

can."

I take vows

seriously. Pretty words don't mean squat if you don't mean what you are

saying. I was not happy about this appeal from my niece.

We talked a

while longer before I agreed to give the assignment a shot. As I prepared

for bed that night, the seriousness of such a request gripped me. Unable

to sleep, I went to the computer and there in the wee hours of the night

and morning, the words came. I e-mailed them to the bride-to-be before

dawn.

Perfect, exactly

what they wanted, came the response.

Such was the

limit of my involvement in the preparation for the spectacular event that

took place on Saturday night, December 7, 2002.

In the preceding

months, I had felt left out. All my siblings and dozens of strangers were

more involved than I in the planning and preparation. I could hardly wait

for Friday morning when we would go down a day early for the wedding.

On Saturday morning a special brunch was planned. It would be my first

opportunity to really feel like I was a part of everything.

Approximately

30 women were in attendance. The room was elegantly decorated. The food

was awesome. Service was great. As the meal was winding down, the bride

stood and walked toward a table of gifts in the corner of the room. She

began to pass out the lovely packages to the ladies who had assisted her

in some way in preparation for her big day.

All the attendees

received at least one gift. Some had three set before them before my present

was placed in front of me. I was actually afraid I was not going to receive

anything since I had done nothing to help prepare for the special day.

I hastily opened my package to find the Angel of Courage, one of a series

from the Willow Tree collection by Demdaco.

I had been

remembered. And so poignantly. I was happy. And tearful and ashamed, that

I had felt like a little child watching others get more than me, and feeling

afraid that I was going to be left out.

When the brunch

ended, the bride was immediately off to have her hair done. All activity

suddenly accelerated. The countdown had begun.

About two hours

later, a relative stuck her head into the room where I was at my sister's

house. "We just had a call from Michelle. She said for you not to

leave here until she can see you. She's on her way."

We were about

to head