A number of years ago I officiated a wedding on Lake Lanier in Georgia. The wedding itself took place on an expansive platform deck in the middle of a lake. To get to the deck, you had to cross from the mainland over a long, wood walking bridge.
The water-abundant location complete with the shoreline trees standing tall on every side made for a truly beautiful venue.
(Lake Lanier)
On the morning of the wedding itself, we did the rehearsal. And during that time I explained how right after the homily the couple would share their own, unique vows they had written for the occasion.
As I talked through that detail, the bride handed me a paper copy of her vows. She didn’t say a word about it, and admittedly, I thought it was strange. I don’t need these. But, she was a very organized person so I figured she just wanted everyone to have a copy of everything.
Fast-forward to the wedding itself later that afternoon.
I was in suit and tie and rolling on with the wedding-officiant rhythms quite nicely. Eventually, I concluded the homily.
“And now,” I said. “The couple is going to share the vows they have prepared for this most sacred occasion.” I then took a step back to let the focus go fully upon the couple.
The bride, however, just kept staring at me…
Then, very suddenly, it hit me: It’s not like her dress has any pockets. For, you know, things like her vows.
I’m supposed to have her vows, and I most definitely do not.
In fact, those vows are in my car. Across that long wood bridge.
Have you ever just wanted to disappear?
Honestly, it felt like the oxygen stopped going to my brain in that moment.
I kept staring back at the bride and the wedding guests behind her, but internally I was in a mental free-fall where for a few milliseconds the thought crossed my mind:
You know, this is a wedding where really I know almost nobody. And, only recently have I gotten to know the bride and groom.
This observation then felt like a kind of permission to let my free-fall go descend into a daydream where I wondered…
Would it be so bad if I just jumped into water and took some deep, long strokes to that shoreline? Could I then disappear into the trees like the ballplayers in Field of Dreams did when they reached the cornfields?
A couple seconds later a measure of oxygen returned me from the cornfields, and I muttered:
“Should I go get the vows?”
The bride nodded slowly.
At which point I began imagining what non-trivial things were going through her head.
Things like…
We picked you because, quite frankly, we needed someone. And it turns out that you - random pastor guy – are the one literally ruining the most important day of my life.
I’m going to push you into the water.
This was less daydream and more nightmare - but I have a fairly good EQ, and all of this was there. Of this I felt certain.
As I tried to find the wherewithal to make my body move toward the bridge, a few of the wedding guests began putting together what was going on. One of them in back row raised his hand and said, “So…are we taking a timeout?”
The wedding guests were very sports-minded, and the whole of them let out a collective laughter.
I, for one, took the gift of someone providing me language for the situation: “Yes! Two minute time out! I’m going to get the vows.”
And then, under the glare of the hot Georgia sun and every single eye at that wedding, I began running in my suit, tie, and dress shoes across the long, wood bridge.
I ran the entirety of the bridge actively thinking to myself over and over only one thing: Don’t fall. Don’t fall. Don’t fall.
I did, in fact, manage to stay upright, retrieve the vows, and return sweat-soaked to officiate the remainder of the wedding.
And guess what?
They got married. With the unique vows they had written for one another.
—
Two weeks later I got a card in the mail from the couple.
Of all things, it was a thank you note.
(Photo by insung yoon on Unsplash)
And tucked inside was a picture that someone took at the very moment she and I and all of us were realizing that I did not have the vows. (It’s a miracle that this got taken because this wedding happened just before it was the norm for everyone to have a phone at every event).
I, of course, remembered this particular moment with a genuine “I’m about to jump into the water” horror. Do you know what the picture shows?
The bride is keeled over in a burst of genuine laughter and a huge smile on her face. She thought the moment was hilarious!
Somehow, in one of the most important moments of her life (and on the heels of one the more stressful seasons of life), she managed to appreciate that it was not most fundamentally about having…
the perfect setting,
the perfect attire, (or even)
the perfect ceremony.
It was about the the gift of the people present:
The groom whom she adored.
The family and friends uniquely gathered for the weekend.
Even the random-officiant who forgot the vows and felt awful.
Which is to say, the very moment when I was trying to find a mental escape from all of the embarrassment, shame, and failure… reality itself turned out to be far better than I had been able to recognize.
Is it possible my lens for reality might be skewed in other parts of life, too?
After years of my astute EQ interpreting life through a worst-case lens, honestly it felt like crossing another kind of bridge in order to consider how often my view may be skewed.
The other thing about which that photo prompted more clarity?
It has helped me to remember that no matter the activity, the event, or the endeavor at hand, it’s always most fundamentally about the gift of the people around us.
For better or for worse.
In perfection and in failure.
As long as we share life together.
And my deepest gratitude goes to that bride who - on a day she had every right not to - remembered those vows.
Wish you had that picture!
Show it!