{WIWS} Pentecost, and How I Met My Husband (Part 1)

Happy belated Pentecost 2015! Linking up with Fine Linen and Purple for What I Wore Sunday! Unfortunately I don't own anything red, so I couldn't carry out the wearing red tradition this year. Here is the rather unfashionable outfit I did settle on (babies make everything better!):

Skirt: Thrifted
Leggings & shoes (not shown): Ardene
Shirt: Reitmans
Baby wrap: Didymos On Roses

I desperately need to do some shopping since I'm currently operating on about a two-skirt rotation. I may just give in and do it online and hope things fit!

In honour of Pentecost, I thought I'd share part one of how my husband and I met (on Pentecost 2013). So without further ado...

How I Met My Husband (Part 1)

“Clearly God wants me to become a nun!”

It was a Saturday evening and I was visiting friends in the city. One friend was graduating, and there were several others I was getting back in touch with after way too much school-induced neglect. I’d just explained how hopelessly impossible it would be for me to ever find a suitable spouse. I was set to head back to my small university town, where all the good Catholic men (all two or so of them) were significantly younger than me and busy discerning the priesthood, or about 40 years older than me and already married. And I’d just rhymed off a pretty long list of qualifications that any prospective husband would have to possess—he’d need a sense of humour, a stable income (or at least a reasonable path towards getting one), a keen intellect, an affection for children, and the list went on. Of course, he would also have to be an orthodox Catholic and—just for kicks, since one of my friends was renting a sweet, sweet car for the weekend—he would definitely need to own a convertible. (Spoiler alert: God never met a challenge He couldn’t take on, and it seems He was highly motivated not to have me for a wife for Himself.) 

We stayed up late drinking that night, as the young and newly graduated are wont to do. Although my hostess (K) and another guest friend (M) managed to wake up in time to attend the morning Mass, I slept right through it, secure in the knowledge I could attend the 5:00 version that evening. Besides, after gazing longingly at the Cathedral on my last few visits to the city, I’d extracted a promise from K to finally get me to Mass at the prettiest building on the block—not her usual parish. I’d been once before, but only once, and the experience had been quite a treat. 

I was regretting my decision when K and M regaled me with tales of an awesome homily upon their return—but at least I’d had enough sleep to take it in! And by the time I was getting ready for Mass, I was pretty excited to finally revisit the inside of the Cathedral. I pulled on a comparatively fancy dress, and even did my makeup. I was riding high from my own recent graduation, combined with a wonderful weekend of friends and fun. 

What I Wore Sunday*, throwback edition: Pentecost 2013 (*mantilla may not have been exactly as shown, and photo was not actually taken on Pentecost--but you get the idea)

M offered to accompany me and I happily took her up on her offer. We made it to the cathedral and I grabbed for the handle of one of the main doors only to meet resistance. I pulled harder—nothing. I was sure Mass was at 5:00, and that was just about exactly what time it was! Next to us, a young man grabbed the handle of the other main door and encountered the same problem.

 He turned to me and said, “Hello, gorgeous lady. Please allow me to sweep you off your feet! You are the most beautiful specimen of humanity I have ever seen!”

And I replied, “Come here, you hunk of man, and I will smother you in chaste kisses!” 

Okay, not really. 

He turned to us and said, “Hey, how do you get into the church?” 

And M sensibly replied, “Let’s try the side door.”

Sure enough, the side door opened. I pulled on my mantilla, M and I found an empty pew, and we settled in for Mass (with my eyes as big as dinner plates as I tried simultaneously to pay attention to the Mass and to my beautiful surroundings). And I figured that the encounter with the nice young gentleman whose smile set my heart beating just a little faster would pass into history with no lasting significance. 

And then it was time for the sign of peace... 

To be continued.