The Girl in the White Dress

Author's note: This is a true story. The names have been changed to protect the innocent, or maybe not so innocent.

A wave of panic caused Talia to clutch her stomach. She glanced at the clock, quickly calculating how much time it would take to get her daughter dressed, herself whipped into some semblance of a calm mother, and drive time. Another wave of panic struck. They were going to be late.

“Lydia! Come here! It’s time to get dressed,” Talia called.

Lydia ambled down the hallway toward her room, carrying on a one-sided conversation with a stuffed bunny named Hoppity. Fortunately, Hoppity wasn’t very talkative today. They made it inside the bedroom before Talia was able to pull the dress out of the closet.

Inside the closet, Talia was about to have a melt down. The veil was nowhere to be found. She dug through a basket of the laundry she hadn’t had time to fold and put away. She sifted through a pile of discarded animals, some were missing tails, others eyes. Most needed surgery to repair gaping wounds oozing clumps of white cotton. Still, the elusive veil refused to make an appearance.

Talia’s harsh words were muffled, “Have you been playing with the veil?”

“No,” Lydia replied in her best high-pitched bunny voice, while shaking Hoppity’s head from side to side.

Talia tossed shoes, animals, and laundry out of the closet, finally exclaiming, “There you are!” She reversed out of the closet with dress and veil in hand.

Talia removed the dress from its hanger, while Lydia discarded a pair of faded shorts and well-worn t-shirt. She helped her daughter into the frothy white dress, effectively transforming her beloved tomboy into a princess. Shaking off the urge to cry, Talia tied the bow in the back before taking a step back to admire her daughter.

Talia’s voice was filled with emotion, “You look beautiful.”

Lydia smiled prettily.

“Okay. Let’s do your hair.”

Talia brushed the sides up, added a pony tail band, and clipped the veil in place. Frowning, she observed, “No, it’s wrinkled.” It would need pressed, “Mom!”

Recognizing the panic in her daughter’s voice, Beverly came rushing down the hallway. She came to a screeching halt when she caught sight of her granddaughter. There were no words in the English language to describe what she was feeling, so she settled for a whispered, “Wow. You’re beautiful.”

Lydia smiled shyly at her grandmother’s words.

Making use of a pillow case and a hot iron, Beverly soon had the veil whipped into shape, and they were off.

Arriving at the church in the nick of time, Lydia was tossed into a sea of white clad children. Instead of quiet contemplation, there was talking and nervous laughter, as mothers combed hair, adjusted ties, and straightened veils. All eyes would be on these youngsters participating in their first communion.

Since the service would be during her usual dinner hour, Talia felt a snack would be in order. Beverly would call the house to request a snack delivery.

“I’m going to call you father,” I said to Lydia. “What kind of snack would you like?”

Lydia looked up into my eyes and said reverently, “I don’t need a snack Grandma; I’m going to eat Jesus.”

Beverly looked up to see Talia choking back laughter. It was virtually impossible not to laugh, yet Beverly managed to explain about the bread and wine being the body and blood of Christ, before making a quick exit. Rolling on the grass, laughing, wouldn’t be appropriate behavior for a grandmother, so she leaned against the tree instead, drawing puzzled looks from passing churchgoers.

Before the children entered the church, there were pictures to take. The photographer arranged them on benches, tallest in the back, shortest in front. Getting an acceptable shot of twitching, wiggling eight year olds would be no easy feat, but the man was tenacious. He relentlessly issued the order to smile. He promised one last shot, and then another child would hop out of a car. By the time he gave up, the children were smiling through clenched teeth, the mothers hoarse from issuing commands to sit still.

The nuns lined up the children, two by two, boy, girl, boy, girl. The procession was ready to enter the church. The nuns led the way, stopping one on each side of the aisle, as the children solemnly walked up to the aisle. By twos, the children were to walk up to the Alter, genuflect, and then go to their seat. Lydia forgot that part and tried to squeeze in beside a boy already seated on the aisle. He pointed her in the right direction, yet she still skipped the genuflect part and sat down in the wrong row, seemingly unaware of her error.

During the readings, Lydia fidgeted in her seat, twirled her hair, and pulled on the veil. The veil fell off. Talia inconspicuously tiptoed across three rows of seats to cover her daughter’s head. The veil refused to cooperate with her shaking hands. Talia gave up trying to attach the veil, and motioned for her friend Hillary to help. By now, all eyes are on Lydia’s veil. Once it was secure, albeit tilted precariously to one side, the two women sidestepped back to their seats. Lydia went back to her fidgeting, until it was time to eat Jesus, oops, time for Communion.

Somehow, Lydia found her correct walking partner. They proceeded to the front of the church. She accepted the bread, which represents the Body of Christ, and then took a sip of wine from the goblet, which represents the Blood of Christ. She immediately returned the wine goblet, and instead of making the Sign of the Cross, she wrinkled her nose and shivered, and then shivered again, obviously disgusted by the taste. Dear Lydia made it back to her seat without incident, sat down in her seat, and waved to her family, who were making a valiant attempt not to laugh.

When the service ended, Talia’s eyes stopped spinning. She patted her hair back into place, smoothed her clothing, and expelled a long held breath before hurrying outside to find her daughter.

After the family congratulated Lydia, they took advantage of the photo op, and then Talia called a meeting. It was a short meeting. All she said was, “Guys go home. Girls, we’re going out for drinks.”

The ladies piled into their cars, drove to the restaurant and ordered their pre-dinner drinks. Lydia partook of a Shirley Temple, while the ladies enjoyed a round of Flirtinis. There were toasts all around, as everyone congratulated the star of the evening. Lydia’s yawns began long before her guests finished dinner.

Back at home, after hugs and goodnight kisses, the girl in the white dress donned Strawberry Shortcake pajamas and climbed into bed. She yawned through her prayers and was asleep shortly thereafter.

Talia smiled down at her daughter. This was a day worthy of documentation, especially the “eating Jesus” part. What a great story to remember when Lydia was older, perhaps on her wedding day, when she would be transformed into a woman in a white dress. Through a tear or two, Talia kissed her daughter, patted Hoppity on the head, and hurried downstairs to write in her journal.

Story ID:	3841
Written by:	Betty J Roan (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Family History
Location:	Middle TN USA
Year:	2008
Person:	My Granddaughter