The Marriage Files

Since this is called “The Marriage Files,” I really should start at the beginning and tell you about the day I got married. I can honestly say that it was the best day of my life, mostly because of all the funny stories I got out of it, although when you break it down to a price per joke, it probably wasn’t the best value of anything I’ve ever purchased. Admittedly, getting my husband K— as a lifelong mate was not a bad part of the bargain, especially since he’s generated a lot of jokes since then as sort of a value-added deal.

Ours was an outdoor wedding held at the house in which we’d been living for several years and were going to close on (as in “buy”) in another six weeks. Which gives rise to my Tip #1 for you betrothed couples out there: don’t get married and buy a house in the same year. Nothing dims that “newlywed glow” like a string of embarrassing credit reports, tension-filled “negotiations” with sellers and lawyers, and the prospect of making two monumental mistakes one right after the other! Not that getting married (or buying a house) is actually a mistake…but at some point or another, you’ll think both of them are.

But back to my wedding. With the benefit of hindsight, I think sirens should have gone off in my head when the pastor said “Only forty people? Oh, you don’t need a rehearsal!” Tip #2: Don’t let anyone tell you you don’t need a rehearsal. You ALWAYS need a rehearsal. If it were just the two of you and God as a witness, I’d still suggest a rehearsal—with God present, sober and fully informed of the schedule.

Instead, our pastor said it would be enough to have a quick “run-through” on the morning of the wedding. Although it sounds incredible now, at that moment it seemed perfectly reasonable that there’d be enough time for a “run-through” sometime in the hours between waking and the ceremony at noon while a team of caterers furiously tried to prepare food for 40 in a kitchen designed by the builder for his elderly mother-in-law and correspondingly equipped; out-of-town guests were still arriving and calling for last-minute clarification of the directions to our homestead in the boondocks (“So let me get this straight—your road has two names?”); the kinks had yet to be worked out of our shuttle system for transporting people because there was only enough parking at our house for four cars; and our living room had been commandeered to serve as Floral Central.

When the first words out of the pastor’s mouth upon his arrival were “Do you have a Bible around anywhere? I forgot mine,” I probably should have realized that this production needed some firmer direction. But I was dewy-eyed with love—or at least that’s my excuse.

We quickly gathered together all the essential personnel: the best man, matron-of-honor, two flower girls, pastor, bride and groom. With the pastor gesturing our entrances and exits and making somewhat sacrilegious-sounding jokes such as “you say ‘I take thee blah-blah-blah’ and then you repeat everything she just said—good practice for the future!” we double-timed through the motions and were finished in five minutes flat. At the end he reminded us again about the very important Bible.

Fast forward to high noon. (I didn’t see the humor of setting that time for our wedding until later.) The guests were gathered under the tent. The groom went to the altar. There was the music cue! The flower girls practically ran down the aisle, spraying the attendees with rose petals as if the flowers were on fire and it hurt to touch them. Sigh—so much for grace. (Tip #3: Run the rehearsal in real time.) I stepped up to the door of the tent, waiting for my cue. The pastor gestured; I was on!

I took two steps and was utterly flabbergasted to see the whole company rise and turn to stare at me. The pastor hadn’t said anything about this. But at weddings they always seem to make a big deal about the bride, so I figured it was part of the plan, regained my composure and kept walking.

At this point, the little narrative in my head sounded something like this: “Smile to the people on the left; smile to the people on the right; don’t trip; my, rose petals are slippery…oh, what’s this? My future mother-in-law seems to be walking down the aisle, toward me. Has she decided I’m not worthy of her son after all, and she’s going to wrestle me away from the altar?”

No, she wasn’t coming to put me in a half Nelson. Midway up the aisle, we met, and she leaned over to whisper in my ear urgently, “Where’s the Bible???”

In the rush of activity, we’d completely forgotten to rustle up the darn instruction book! And to make matters worse, I had no clue where it was. What with choosing passages for the ceremony, it had been carted from room to room for weeks. I whispered, “You’ll never find it” to K—‘s Mom, briefly wondered if I should escort her back to her seat, then thought better of it and kept walking. (Tip #4: If in doubt, just keep walking.)

Arriving at the altar, I shrugged and mouthed to the pastor, “I’m sorry!” He looked down at us, and to my tremendous relief, smiled broadly and said, “Don’t worry—I can wing it. I’ve done these before!” To his eternal credit, he performed perfectly, reciting all of the passages from memory, pretending to be reading from the Bible when, in reality, the book open wide in his hands was a Lutheran hymnal. Except for the unconventional conference in the aisle, I think the guests were none the wiser. (Tip #5: Hiring a professional always pays.)

(read the continuation of this story in My Wedding Day Part II)

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