By the power vested in me

This weekend I put the finishing touches on a wedding ceremony I’m performing this coming weekend.

Necessary writing fuel: carbs and caffeine.


I am performing a marriage ceremony. A Christian marriage ceremony. Praise be.

(Cue all the hand-wringing from uptight evangelicals and super conservative sexists. By the way? Shove it.)

This is not something I ever thought I’d do, but something I’ve always wanted to do. I love weddings and I love two people committing to each other. I think it’s beautiful. It’s so hopeful. I love hope and newness and I even love speaking in public! I love writing speeches and delivering them to a crowd. I’ve been told I’m really good at it. And even though I get butterflies, they’re the excited kind. The “this could go really well and I am about to do something exciting!” kind. I love that feeling. I love creating the mood, of communicating the impact and significance of a gathering. I have a lot of thoughts and analyses and the more I can hold people hostage and make them listen to me, the better.

This feels a liiiiiiittle different, however. Probably because it is a LOT different. This is… sacred. Holy. And I’m in a weird place with my sense of and belief in what exactly is holy. BUT, more than anything, I am a touch scared of screwing something up, of making a misstep and throwing the atmosphere “off.” There are a lot of moving parts to this ceremony (two readings, communion, sand ceremony, then all the vows, rings, officiant message, etc.). This is hugely important and I want so desperately to do it well, to make it special and beautiful. I’m marrying one of my best friends, someone I consider a sister, so I need to do a good job and make her day as special as I can in the capacity I have been given to make it.

At least I have a killer dress. No one can say I won’t look understated and classy and fabulous!

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