The Veil

I have been working on the wedding portrait for about 9 months now. That is 8 months and 27 days longer than I have worked on any painting. There are periods of many weeks when I turn the portrait to the wall so that I can look at it with fresh eyes when I turn it back. Otherwise, I reach a point where I just see what I want to see so I can be done with it. I knew I was doomed when I took on this project. I am not a portrait artist and while what I paint will indeed appear human, I am pretty sure my son and daughter in law are hoping for something a tad beyond that minimum standard.

I have never seen a portrait of someone I know that looks just like them. Unless of course the artist cheats. That means they project an image on the canvas from a photograph. Of course the portrait looks photographic then. In essence, it is! In my eyes, that is paint by number, and I have no interest in that. I would rather send my beloveds a portrait that has a vague resemblance, a shared genome at least to their dear faces that truly developed from my hand. However, I know that it is highly unlikely that they will see the painting and feel like they are looking in a mirror. The best I can hope for it is that someday it will grow to resemble them.

That does happen. My mom  had a portrait of her painted when she was in her twenties. I remember as a chlld thinking it looked nothing like her. But now when I look at it, I see my mom. I see gentleness, intelligence, and patience, and quiet optimism in tender grey eyes, sparkling with the dreams and hopes of the children she peacefully ushered into the world. I see strength and dignity, and kindness. It is a wonderful portrait. If I could make my wedding portrait of my son and new daughter gleam with that kind of soul, I will be satisfied.

Yesterday, I got the photograph of Karissa's veil. I nag her every few weeks for some other piece of the wedding paraphernalia so I can paint it in.
"Karissa, what earrings will you be wearing?"
"Can I let you know after I get the wedding dress?"
"Oh....well ok. You only have a year to go. I suggest you hop on it!  Well ok, if you haven't settled on the earrings, how about the color of your lipstick?"
When I can judge from her reply that she may not marry my son if I send one more email, I back off. With now just 2 months to go til the wedding, I feel justified in asking for details.
"Forget studying for your stupid college finals, Karissa. What color ribbon will be on your flowers.... and what side of the tux will Matt's boutonniere be on?"
So using such grace and tact, I got the picture of the veil and then stood at my canvas  trembling. If I mess up the veil, all the beautiful painstaking background around 2/3rds of her body will also need to be redone. I have to get the veil right the first time.

Asherel walked in.
"Oh, that's very nice! But you need to keep adding more veil. Right now it looks like saran wrap."
"I don't dare," I groaned.
"Well fine, don't, but then she looks like an egg salad about to be wrapped at the deli."
That would not evoke the timeless soul  I had hoped to permeate the canvas. I squeezed out some more paint. I did a little research into portrait painting while I was at it. I read the blog of one acclaimed portrait painter, as well as her "tips and techniques" section. She recommended adding painstaking layer by layer, letting each layer dry thoroughly. It is a time-intensive process, but it allows the flesh to glow, as in the paintings of the Masters. By accident, that is what I have been doing. I am not sure the painting glows like a DaVinci or Rembrandt, however.

It occurs to me that this is similar to how people's faces develop in reality as well. As infants, our faces are smooth mush. Cute mush perhaps, but still unlined with experience or knowledge or wisdom that seems to only come with the trials of life. Day by day, year by year, layer by layer, our character grows and our face begins to reflect what we are within. My mom always said that when you are old, you get the face you deserve. Or someone said that. Maybe it was me.

And while I was thinking about faces, I began to think about veils. Part of my trepidation in painting Karissa's veil is that her skin is so porcelain, her dress so exquisite, her face so lovely. Why would anyone want to hide any of that beneath a veil? I think the veil became part of the wedding ceremony because if the groom were to see his bride striding towards him with her glowing, hopeful face in full veiw, we might see a lot more grooms passing out in the wedding ceremony. The veil is for their protection.

When Moses came down from speaking with God, he had to wear a veil over his face too. The shining reflection, the after-glow of his encounter with God was too blazing for the Israelites to look upon. His face glowed with the radiance of God. That is the face I want.

I added the final diaphanous touch of white, and called Asherel back in.
"That's good!" she said.
I put away my brushes before I ruined it. 

Exodus 34:29-35
 ²⁹ When Moses came down from Mount Sinai with the two tablets of the covenant law in his hands, he was not aware that his face was radiant because he had spoken with the LORD. ³⁰ When Aaron and all the Israelites saw Moses, his face was radiant, and they were afraid to come near him. ³¹ But Moses called to them; so Aaron and all the leaders of the community came back to him, and he spoke to them. ³² Afterward all the Israelites came near him, and he gave them all the commands the LORD had given him on Mount Sinai.  ³³ When Moses finished speaking to them, he put a veil over his face. ³⁴ But whenever he entered the LORD’s presence to speak with him, he removed the veil until he came out. And when he came out and told the Israelites what he had been commanded, ³⁵ they saw that his face was radiant. Then Moses would put the veil back over his face until he went in to speak with the LORD.

The Mother of Missteps......

With my job as honeymoon booker completed successfully, I thought it might be wise to peruse the duties of the Mother of the Groom, hereafter to be referred to as MOG. From everything I have been told, MOG doesn't do much but wring her hands and shut her mouth. So you can imagine my surprise when I realized I have already blown it, not two weeks into the engagement.

I went to weddingscanbetricky.com and discovered a whole list of things the MOG should know. First of all, I was supposed to send a nice card to the bride's family. Well, I did indeed do this, but I did it the moment after I received a nice card from the bride's family. I had been so consumed with starting homeschool, arranging the honeymoon, and cooking/cleaning for the happy couple to arrive for the past weekend that I had put off the lovely welcoming card that I was supposed to send first.
Faux Pas number one.

My wedding consultant Holly assures me that the bride's family probably doesn't hate me yet. She warned me that I cannot afford too many of these slips however.

Two well wishers in the past week had greeted me as "Mother of the groom in beige". Given my fine intellect, I surmised this meant that MOG's wear beige. So Asherel and I went out looking for a beige dress, since now all the summer gowns would be on sale. This seemed sensible and frugal to me.

Holly was horrified, "EVERYONE knows the mother of the bride gets her dress first!" she ranted, "EVERYONE!!! You know that, don't you?" I detected a plaintive gasp of despair in her last sentence.
I am ashamed to admit I didn't know that. I did know that the mothers don't wear white and don't look like they are trying to upstage the bride, if that were even remotely possible in my case..... but now this new rule seems to be fraught with complications.
"How do I know when the mother of the bride (MOB) gets her dress?" I asked.
But Holly didn't answer because she had read my next email and realized I was hunting for beige, "NO beige, or tans, or ivories.... you will look like a bride wannabe!" she screeched,"And it doesn't matter now anyway because you DO NOT get your dress before the MOB. You can not clash with the MOB, upstage the bride, or dress like the bridesmaids or you will look like a fool."

I closed the emails with Holly as I was getting a headache. I went to a new website, fauxpasbegone.com . I am responsible for booking the block of hotel rooms for the groom's family and guests, and I must attend the wedding shower. These I actually did know. I also must match the formality of my dress to the MOB. I may offer help but be careful to back off and not offer any opinion. Colors for MOG dresses according to this site can be beige or tan....and even black! Black is no longer just for mourning.

"Black!" wrote Holly, "Only if you want the bride's family never to speak to you again for your entire life. But it doesn't matter - as EVERYONE knows the MOB buys her dress first. Comon, you can do this. It is not rocket science."

No, it is not. Rocket science is easy compared to this. For my own wedding I didn't know any of the rules either....nor did I care. We got married in my backyard, under a lovely arbor surrounded by the wildflower trails my mother had lovingly transplanted from nearby forests. I didn't know that dressing the groom's men in lime green was tacky. I liked green. I wonder if any of them wore their suits again?

Mom tells me she overheard one aunt mumbling the entire time, "It just isn't done this way." My sister made my wedding cake, which melted the night before the wedding. I thought the streams of rainbow color down the sides were beautiful.

"Just ask Karissa," Holly advised, "She will tell you what to do."
"I did," I told her,"She told me to wear whatever I wanted. She told me she thought my belly packs were cute."
And convenient too..... I am sure I will need to carry a full box of tissues. I wonder if my belly pack should match the bridesmaid's dress? I still can't find that specific instruction in my fauxpasbegone.com site.

In the end, none of it matters, not really. I know what really matters is that love is sanctified, and God's favor rests on those who love Him. I will do whatever it takes to keep from embarrassing my son and his bride, because I love them. Given my past history, I am not confident I will succeed....but it does make me think of how the law, the rules laid down by God, can never be fulfilled perfectly by any of us. I am not alone in this one. We all blow it, usually by breakfast. So God sent His own little Faux Pas Be Gone site- it is in dismal place called Calvary where the penalty for all my sin was paid.

Isaiah 62:5
as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you.