Recently, you performed a wedding ceremony for your friends Krystal and Steve. Both worked with you in a past life, and you’ve stayed in touch for the years which followed.
When they announced their engagement about one year ago, you were happy for them. Half-kidding, you suggested that you perform their wedding — you are a notary after all.
You mentioned it to your wife in passing that evening and she pointed out that in all likelihood, they were serious.
You’ve got plenty of time to back out, you told her (and yourself), up until about a week before the wedding. Then Krystal called, talking about how grateful she was, excited, etc., etc. They wanted to take you and your wife out to dinner to say thanks.
How many guests were they expecting again?
134 isn’t that big a number. Not so bad. You’ve spoken to much larger audiences, many times before. You’ve spoken at conferences, given presentations, held seminars, lead congregations in prayer, performed on stage, more. You’re a pro. This would be easy. Old hat. Just like every other time.
But this was different, wasn’t it. You really couldn’t fudge anything, could you, unless you wanted Krystal and Steve’s grandkids to one day point and laugh at the video. No, this was different. This was important. Monumental even.
Nevemind, it’ll be fine.
In fact, thinking about it, you wanted to add some of your own thoughts to the words you were asked to speak, tell Krystal and Steve that marriage was much more than compromise and commitment, is based on much more than just love.
This is one of the nice things about being married to an editor — your wife knows how to sneak some text in here and there, in elegant fashion.
In the end, the wedding went off perfectly. The ceremony was excellent, the bride was beautiful, the groom showed up, and — most importantly — you made no mistakes. Then, to top it all off, the bride’s father produced three boxes of La Gloria Cubana churchills which had been maintained in perfect humidification. Bing!
A good time was had by all.
In reflection that night on the drive home, you thought about what an honor it was to have been a participant in your friend’s wedding, to have lead it, to have married them, for crying out loud.
And then, looking at your wife in the seat next to you, you realized that there’s nothing better in the world than being married, and, lest you ever forget, you truly are a lucky guy.