One of the distinct pleasures of my tenure teaching theology at a high school is that to this day I get asked to officiate weddings for my former students. It is such an honor to meet with the couple, hear the long version of their love story thus far, and talk to them about ritual, promises, and community. I love to help them create a ceremony that feels both like them and also bigger than them. I love to stand up front and watch their faces while they make their vows with those who love them most looking on. These are moments when my passion for writing and ritual get to meld and bring value to an already magical day. It never gets old.
Several years ago, when I thought I had a year to prepare for a wedding, I got a call that the bride's cancer had come back and the wedding was getting moved up. Shortly after I got another call that she had gotten very sick, and they were moving it up again. Then I got a third call, asking if I could come right away, as the wedding was happening as soon as possible.
What came next was witnessing the power of love in a crisis. I got to be a part of a wedding that was pulled off in a day. With my co-officiant, I wrote a wedding ceremony from scratch in pencil on the sidelines, trying to write when there were no words, feeling more than ever before and maybe ever again that my skills for writing and ritual, which tended to be non-essential, were desperately and urgently needed in the moment. What came next was me standing up front for a tender, fierce, and unforgettable wedding. The veil felt thin, very thin indeed.
In the days after the bride's passing, the groom opened a google doc and asked friends to help him capture memories from the day. I watched the doc swell with meticulous detail, humor, and heartbreak that honored the magic of the day and the magic of the bride and the couple. The groom loved numbers, and used them as his anchors. With his permission, I wrote how I remembered the day, his numbers and all.
The day marked me, and I think of them and it often-- how we love, how we live, how we grieve, how we promise, how we mark time, how we cling, how we let go, how we die.
READ WHEN NOW MEETS FOREVER (excuse the wrong title that somehow got attached)
I’m choked up. My heart was touched by the pain and beauty of that day. Thank you, Ellie, for how you capture life’s deepest experiences. ❤️