Bridal Musings [guest]

He had one arm around me and the ring in a leather pouch, cradled in his rosary; and at the age of thirty, after years of the slow agonizing that is a normative part of single adult womanhood, I finally found myself loved enough by one man to covenant for life.

Between engagement and its goal, however, lies a monster of an event--one that must be undertaken in some form whether or not the prospective bride and groom enjoy parties, or planning, or being the center of attention. In a most unfeminine manner, I never thought much about my wedding throughout my teen and early adult years. Three years ago, during the preparations for a family wedding, I began to consider my options should it happen for me, and until I met my fiancé, all of my ideas were negatives on the American wedding traditions. No matching bridesmaids' dresses, no processional, no big show and fussy dinner, and absolutely no Wagner. I really do not like Wagner.

It did not take experience with vendors of the wedding business to give me the general sensation that the average wedding nowadays is a sham, a rigmarole designed to give girls a chance to take a three-hour glamour-photo session with their man and show him off to all their friends in high fashion. Not that I'm against attractive pictures or formal dress; merely that such empty show combined with something supposed to have such meaning felt farcical, absurd.

The problem is selfishness, and the temptation to selfishness--as I found out early in the planning stages--is extreme, even for someone as indifferent to the usual parade as I am. After all, a person only gets married once ... at least, that's the original idea ... one might at least enjoy it.

As I've watched others process into marriage, however, I have learned strongly that a couple can hardly make a bigger mistake than thinking of their wedding primarily as "their special day". Too many longsuffering parents and relatives and friends have taken too much hell from must-have-it-all brides and control-freak grooms. Granted, not everyone can be pleased at once, and some people cannot be pleased at all. But community, not two individuals alone, participates in the sacramental liturgy, and we believe this day is as much about our God and our family as about us.

This fetish needs watching, too: as much as possible, though, I want everything to mean something. My mother makes my dress herself--it's her wedding gift to each of her daughters, and though I well know that it will be fabulous, I would want it even if I expected something far less perfect. My sister and his brother will stand up for us. The procession in behind the cross, instead of the typical bride-centric format; the white lily in my bouquet; the Bible readings my beloved and I chose together--simple things, most of them, but they matter to us.

My beloved reawakened me to the sanctity of it all. I knew that marriage is sacred, but his powerful faith put the concept of the marriage of two Christians into a context so religious that--without feeling the need to be legalistic about it--I would only choose to solemnize that sacrament at the altar, literally speaking. The truth of sacrament is of spiritual reality accomplished by way of physical ritual; hence the formal vows in the presence of witnesses and an authorized facilitator, not merely a general unspoken commitment between the couple. It matters to us, then, to celebrate this 'holy mystery' in the very place where Christ meets us regularly in the sacramental sense.

It matters to us ... thank God so many of the same things matter to us. I don't know how, exactly, but I knew we would marry—in some way I felt that even on our first little unofficial date, or at least by the middle of that night when sheer thrilled emotion forced me awake to relive the two-hour conversation we'd had over coffee. That 'knowledge' took several months to confirm, of course. But I had met someone likewise shy and hesitant and open, likewise determinedly Christian, likewise disillusioned and hopeful; and unlike anything I'd ever known, I'd met someone who actually seemed to like me—as I am, tall, awkward, serious, childlike, and all.

Somehow we'll make the wedding work, even if it can't be perfect or even everything we could ever want. The goal, after all, is the marriage. I could be nervous about marriage, as many excellent girls are during engagement, even though they know they have 'the right one'. Perhaps the nerves will pick up somewhat as the day approaches; that's more likely than not, I suppose. But I'm not afraid, not of life with him. And as I try to surround our nuptials with all of the 'meaning' I can, I hope it accentuates the burdened little phrase that I plan to mean with my whole heart and soul: "I do."


Jennifer Olwin is planning her wedding from Bellingham, Washington. Her contribution to her future home includes sixteen potted plants and the fiction half of the library.