Free Chicken Soup for the Bride's Soul by Jack Canfield

came together. But I couldn’t decide how to attach the lace train to the back of the dress. Wanting to get the full effect while trying it on, I pinned the back section of the skirt and bodice together. Pleased with my efforts, I continued the finishing touches on the gown.
    The remaining pre-wedding days passed in a flurry of last-minute details, appointments, rehearsal and packing. Then the big day dawned, and preparations consumed the morning and early afternoon. When the church sanctuary and reception hall were ready for guests, I went to a church classroom to dress.
    I was astonished to discover my dress still pinned together in back. I couldn’t believe it! I had forgotten to finish the most important dress I would ever wear. Feeling panicked, I stopped for a second and thought about it. Then I managed to laugh, realizing the wedding guests would be oblivious to the fact that I was held together with pins. No one was the wiser when I walked down the aisle in my unfinished creation.
    After the wedding, I packed my dress away. Twenty-eight years later, as I prepared to transform it into family heirlooms for my daughters’ weddings, I examined the dress more carefully. There in the back were those familiar pins . . . I had still never finished my dress.
    I was stirred by the thought that even though my wedding dress had been held temporarily with pins, the marriage had been secure and lasting. The dress was just an accessory and only had to hold together for several hours. But the most significant element of the day—the commitment I shared with my bridegroom—had endured almost three decades of better and worse, richer and poorer, sickness and health.
    Clearly, no pins were required.
    Adele Noetzelman

Tagged for Delivery
    Somewhere, Samantha knew, there must be a young woman crying her eyes out. One of the boxes taken off the moving truck contained a wedding gown Samantha had never before laid eyes on. Great care had been taken to preserve it, judging from the sturdy white storage box and tissue paper. Sam’s name and address were on the box, but someone from the moving company had made a terrible mistake.
    It was a vintage dress—Sam estimated the 1930’s era— about size 3, with an overlay jacket and intricate beadwork. Was it an heirloom? Passed down to the bride by her grandmother? Samantha worried someone had lost a cherished family treasure.
    She made phone calls to the moving company requesting information to help her find the owner, but they refused to cooperate. Discouraged, she gave up the search.
    Over the years, Sam was offered money for the antique dress but always refused. Something about the gown defied explanation. To her romantic mind, she only knew that sometime a young woman was destined to wear this dress, marry a handsome prince and live happily ever after.
    Time flew, but for Sam and her family, life was anything but a fairy tale. Her husband lost his job and they decided to relocate. To save money, they planned to move themselves this time, but the rental trailer was small and could hold only necessities.
    I offered to hold a moving sale for Sam and began by bringing her tables and clothes racks from my home. As we sorted and tagged items, I came across the wedding dress and listened while Sam explained its mysterious past.
    “I wish I could have found the rightful owner,” Sam sighed. “Now it looks like a stranger or a dealer will get it.”
    Reluctantly, I placed a $70 price tag on the gown, and Sam hung it next to the other clothes. When we finished marking all the items, Samantha suddenly remembered she had a large patio set in the back yard. My family needed patio furniture, so I put $90 into the cash box and bought it sight unseen.
    The next morning sales were brisk. As the day wore on, however, we lowered prices in an effort to move the merchandise more quickly . . . and regretfully reduced the dress to $45. At the end of the day, the wedding gown still hung on the rack. Except