What is a Wedding?
Today was supposed to be my wedding day.
April 24, 2021.
We chose that date in September. The end of April seemed perfect. We learned early on that our parents shared a wedding anniversary. Both of our sets of parents got married on April 28. So April 24 was perfect.
I bought a beautiful gown, one that made my best friend cry when she saw it. I pinned hundreds of images of updos, flowers, and favors. We decided on a menu. We sent invitations. We decided on songs. I cried when I decided on the one I would walk down the aisle to. The wedding would be small, but it would be shared with people we love.
But I did not get married today.
The borders remain impassable (my husband is Canadian), and it became clear very quickly that April was not going to happen.
Back in January, my then-fiancé and I anticipated more restrictions related to COVID, so we decided to jump the gun and get married so we could begin the process of me immigrating to Canada. It’s a long, arduous process, so we didn’t want to risk a delay.
So I told my dad and my sister that I was going to get married without them there. I got married in a dress I bought off the internet. I wore heels that were a little scuffed up, ones I’d worn many times before. I got dressed without my sister to zip me. I took a moment in the bathroom alone, without my best friend asking me if I needed a getaway car. There was no music. Instead of standing next to me, my sister watched while she was on break at her job.
And on February 17, I got married. 2 pm on a Wednesday.
It was a real wedding. We were prayed over. I wore the pearls I received at my ordination. I wore a ring that belonged to my mother. We were blessed by my husband’s pastor, and by my father (via Zoom, of course). And most importantly, we spoke slowly and clearly as we made vows to one another. To have and to hold. In sickness and health. As long as we both shall live. In the name of Jesus.
The night before our wedding, there was no bachelorette party, but we sat with my stepson at bedtime and tickled his back as we talked through our vows with him and told him what we were promising each other. There was no fancy reception, but there was a lovely meal with my new in-laws where my stepson sat on my lap and sang Purple Rain and ate my dessert (who knew such levels of bliss existed, honestly!).
There were people who supported us by making beautiful cakes and beautiful bouquets and beautiful photos.
Today, April 24, was supposed to be my wedding day. Today I am just as married as I would have been if I had worn that gown, if I’d had that music, if we’d had all of our people there. I am married not because everyone got to celebrate with me, but because I made a life-long commitment to the man I have chosen, and he committed himself to me. His little boy watched us promise ourselves to one another (to be honest I think he had his eye on the cake most of the time, but he hung in there…).
This last year has made many of us reconsider what a wedding is. It has made us reconsider what elements must be present to make a wedding…a wedding. If it’s somewhere that your family can’t come because the borders are closed, it’s still a wedding. If no one can be there but you, it’s still a wedding. If you don’t get the gown or the music or even the dancing, it’s still a wedding.
This is a wedding. It’s showing up, it’s making vows for better or worse. It’s making the commitment happen when the world (like literally the GLOBE) is not making it easy. It’s forsaking all others, starting now, until death do us part.
Today, April 24, I did not get married. But today I am bound. I am part of a new ‘one’. Someday I hope I will get to celebrate with all the people I love. But today, I am married.
