Bel Air, Maryland

A portion of your soul has been
entwined with mine
A gentle kind of togetherness, while
separately we stand.
As two trees deeply rooted in
separate plots of ground,
While their topmost branches
come together,
Forming a miracle of lace
against the heavens

"Two Trees"
~ Janet Miles

When my friends asked me to do their wedding ceremony, I was incredibly honored. I had performed a coworker's wedding the previous year, but I had not yet been asked by a close friend to write and perform a wedding. This meant a lot to me because I have known the groom for years, and I supported him through a recent divorce, so watching him find love and then decide to try it all over again has been joyful for all of us. To ask me to preside over his wedding was just such a surprise and a gift.

All three of us sat down together to figure out what would go into the ceremony. They chose Janet Miles' poem and another reading . . . and we put the other pieces into place. The wedding would be at her mother's house in Bel Air. There was a pond behind it, and they wanted to get married near the pond. Everyone would just gather around, stand, and we would do the wedding. Sounded simple enough to me.

I usually wear a black suit. For this occasion, I wore a white summer dress with black flowers on it and a white eyelet jacket. I don't know; the combination of the bride and the groom being my close friends, my sister and brother-in-law being there as invited guests to watch me perform a wedding for the first time, and then staying to the reception as well just made me feel differently about the whole experience. I think this is why it wasn't strictly "professional" for me, which led to the crying situation.

The ceremony was short. I thought I would be fine. We gathered by the pond, and the sun was hot, so many of the guests hung back where they thought they wouldn't be scorched. It didn't matter; we were going to have a wedding with or without them. I figured I had to project louder than usual and accomplished that with no issue. Everything was fine until we got to the ring exchange. When my friend, Terry, took his bride's ring and placed it on her finger and started to repeat after me, he started to cry. When he started to cry, I started to cry. And that was all she wrote. Once I started crying, I couldn't really recover from that. I managed to hold it together, but not well. I pronounced them married, they kissed, we sent them on their way, and that was great.

But right afterward, the newlyweds did a big toast where they thanked everyone, and they, of course, thanked me for doing such a great job with the wedding. Everything I held back from the ceremony I unleashed during their speech. I just LOST it. The more they talked and thanked me and expressed their gratitude, the more I bawled like a baby. The more everyone looked at me, the worse it was. Oh, boy, but it wasn't pretty.

And one thing I've learned in all these weddings: no matter how much they act like it doesn't matter, the reality is that no one likes the crying minister. It makes people uncomfortable if I can't hold it together. Yes, they think it's sweet if I shed a tear. But if I have an emotional breakdown (like I did for a good solid 10 minutes and had to go to the powder room to fix my face), it's all bad.

The good news is that I will never see the vast majority of those people again, and those I will see know me well enough to know that sometimes, that just happens.

Take it or leave it. I'm sensitive.

Marriott Waterfront Hotel - Baltimore

It was ironic to meet this bride and groom at a local Barnes and Noble bookstore for the first time, to talk about their wedding ceremony, because that's where they had met about a year ago. He had approached her in a Barnes and Noble in New Jersey, struck up a conversation, and just like that, their relationship unfolded. I was touched by this, by the synchronicity of where we had met . . . at the way things happen. They were a sweet couple. They had energy and enthusiasm. They seemed interested in the process of customizing their ceremony and working with me to create it.

Time got away from them --- they bought a house and closed on it, and in the process, they lost the CD that I gave them, running out of time to work on crafting their ceremony independently of me. Five days before the wedding, the groom emailed to say that they trusted me to write their wedding --- and would I do so? Of course, I responded, and did so without question, sending them a draft within several hours. After a brief review and adjustment, it was finalized.

Some weddings are like this. The couple's focus isn't so much on the words of the wedding but the other details, like the ice sculpture, the color of the bridesmaid's dresses, the flowers, or the cake. I understand . . . everyone is different.

However . . . never doubt that like attracts like. Meaning what you are attracts what you project into the world. So, imagine me walking into a whole wedding filled with people who care more about the party than the ceremony.

When you're the odd one out for the wedding, it feels a whole lot like a cart with one square wheel. Very herky-jerky.

Remember the song from "Sesame Street" that goes like this:

One of these things is not like the others,
One of these things just doesn't belong,
Can you tell which thing is not like the others
By the time I finish my song?

Did you guess which thing was not like the others?
Did you guess which thing just doesn't belong?
If you guessed this one is not like the others,
Then you're absolutely . . . right!

On Saturday night, that thing was me.

It wasn't just that the bride's and groom's focus was not at all on the ceremony. It was that everyone's focus was not at all on the ceremony. No one cared. The photographer couldn't have been bothered with it; he never asked me a single question about the flow of the ceremony. He never asked me where he could stand or couldn't stand, based on the blocking of activities. The videographer never attempted to mic me, to pick up the audio from the ceremony. Neither man ever deigned to introduce themselves to me, at all.

Further --- the attendants never bothered to speak to me. This is a clear indicator that everyone in attendance is there for the party. They walked past me a dozen times before the ceremony was to begin, and being professional, I said hello and made eye contact and smiled, but they acted like I wasn't there.

Interesting.
This, from the bride's and groom's closest friends and family.

Perhaps my favorite part of all was directly after the ceremony, when I attempted to descend the altar following the parents of the groom and follow the honored guests down the aisle. The seated guests actually began to step out into the aisle before me to beat me to the reception. Now, I know they're thirsty, and that fifteen-to-twenty minutes of me talking has clearly sent them into DTs, and they need to hit the bar, but really. Were they raised with wolves? Have they no couth? Don't they know the first thing about wedding etiquette?

Once I had braved the gauntlet of guests, I immediately stopped at a high-top cocktail table to sign the marriage license. As the guests filed past me, some paused to compliment the ceremony, which was very nice.

However, I hadn't even completed signing the license, so it could not have been but three minutes after the ceremony had ended, when a family member of the groom stopped me to ask, "Excuse me, do you know where I can put this diaper bag? It's for the flower girl."

I stared at her for a moment, then looked at the diaper bag in her hand. Now, normally, questions like that don't bother me at all. I am happy to direct guests to the restrooms when I know where they are, tell them where to put gifts, where to find the coatroom, in which direction the reception is, etc. I don't mind doing that kind of thing at all. I have spent a little bit more time in the space than they have, and as the person that has just conducted the ceremony, they automatically assume that I know a little something about the venue. However, this question just caught me off-guard. It was something about this woman's tone and her demeanor. She was actually holding it out to me a bit, as if she expected me to take it from her. And I realized, instantly, that she thought I was the venue coordinator for the Marriott Waterfront Hotel. I realized she wanted me to take the diaper bag for her, or lead her to where she could put it, and as I looked at her perplexed expression --- confused as to why I wasn't leaping to help her --- I reached the limit of my patience and tolerance.

"It's for the flower girl," she repeated.

I smiled thinly and capped my pen, making a very deliberate and specific display of putting the marriage license back in the envelope. Very clearly, I said, "I'm not staying for the reception this evening, so I can't help you with that, I'm sorry."

Her face wrinkled in dismay. "Don't you work here?" she asked.

"No, actually, I don't work here," I said, closing my book and starting to walk away. "I'M THE MINISTER."

How she actually could have forgotten what I looked like after TALKING to her and the other 100 guests for the previous 15-20 minutes defies my understanding, but yes, somehow, it happened.

I have to say, though, for every 125 weddings I perform, there is only one that is like this. The others are wonderful, meaningful and filled with reverence and beauty and respect for the words, the love expressed with them and the grace in the sacrament.

And everything considered, those are really good odds.

The Ambassador Dining Room

Sharon and Martin were married in the garden at the Ambassador, an ornate and unique Indian restaurant in the Johns Hopkins University neighborhood of Baltimore City. It was a beautiful and brisk afternoon, and the sun shone brightly on their nuptials.

I was fine until the groom's sister, Suzie, stepped forward to share the following reading from D.H. Lawrence, an excerpt from "On Fidelity:"

Man and woman are like the earth, that brings forth flowers
in summer, and love, but underneath is rock.
Older than flowers, older than ferns, older than foraminifera,
older than plasma altogether is the soul underneath.
And when, throughout all the wild chaos of love
slowly a gem forms, in the ancient, once-more-molten rocks
of two human hearts, two ancient rocks,
a man’s heart and a woman’s,
that is the crystal of peace, the slow hard jewel of trust,
the sapphire of fidelity.
The gem of mutual peace emerging from the wild chaos of love.

When she reached the word, "sapphire," for so many reasons . . . all good and beautiful and true . . . I started crying and couldn't stop.

This happens, sometimes.

Monkton, Maryland - Post Script

Dear Brandy,

I want to express my thanks and appreciation for the truly inspiring service you conducted at Teddy's and Jess's wedding on July 15th. I was captivated by the reading at the ceremony and again in viewing my brother-in-law's video of the service.

It was profound yet personal and your delivery and presentation was dignified without being too stuffy and aloof. Teddy and Jess looked so happy. I only hope all their decisions in life are as thoughtful as their decision in selecting you to start them on their life together.

Regards,
Groom's Mother

Monkton, Maryland

I met Jessica and Teddy several months ago at a bookstore in Towson . . . they were a delightful couple, one who, despite their youth, fit together with a certainty I don't often observe. I liked them. I remember getting cold chills as they told me about how they had met, and I remember feeling tears prick at my eyes as they spoke of how deeply they loved one another. They were beautiful, which doesn't hurt . . . Teddy's collegiate good looks and Jessica's lush, exotic beauty were interesting foils to each other. I really hoped they would hire me, and they did.

When we worked on their ceremony, I realized how fortunate I was that they had chosen to work with me for their wedding. Teddy is a natural writer. He gave me so much to work with and was so generous, their ceremony practically wrote itself. It stands out as one of the most innovative, original, uniquely personal and beautiful that I have ever had the privilege of performing. I looked forward to their wedding day with a different anxiousness, happily anticipating speaking the words we had worked so diligently to craft.

The lawn was lovely, with a tent for the guests and a tiny gazebo arranged for me, for Teddy and for Jess to stand in for the ceremony. It was really idyllic, with my back to a pond and the lovely rolling hills of the farmlands behind us. To the left was the tennis courts, upon which a large tent for the reception had been erected. Our processional began from the porch of the stone farmhouse, and cheery potted geraniums marked our aisle across the rich, emerald lawn.

I visited Jessica just before the wedding began, and she was the picture of serenity, moments before slipping into her gown, her face glowing, her hair soft ringlets around her gorgeous, cocoa-colored skin, her brown eyes large limpid pools of wonder and delight. She and Teddy were awash in the miracle of the day . . . and gorgeous in their love for one another.

The ceremony was as beautiful as I thought it would be . . . and after they exchanged their rings, I invited Teddy to kiss his bride. With an eruption of pure emotion, an unadulterated outburst of feeling and happiness, Teddy and Jessica jumped into each other's arms and kissed. I have never heard or witnessed two people so utterly uninhibited or unabashed in their expression of joy. It was beautiful and overwhelming --- as if they had restrained their happiness for the entire ceremony, and at the end, with the simple words, "You may now kiss your bride," the joy just burst forth, unchecked.

We all cried, watching them.

From their ceremony:

"In Greek mythology, there was the belief that human beings were once a single being, one entity, with two sets of arms, two sets of legs and two heads. Then, legend states, Zeus shot down bolts of lightening and separated all of these single beings into two individual creatures, each with one head, and each a pair of arms and legs. For the Greeks, love meant searching for the lost half, that missing twin that had been splintered from the one whole self. And over the evolutionary ages, we, as people, always look for the next generation, the next version, of that twin, our other half that we lost so many years ago. Interestingly, this notion of halved wholes can be traced through other cultures as well . . . as seen in the Yiddish word, beshert, or besherte, referring to one’s “soul mate.” Jewish mystics believe that God chose all the soul mates in Heaven, and it is our destiny to find our other half, here, on earth."

The Great Room, Savage Mills

So, for Jackie and Kevin . . . I performed the most pleasant wedding I've performed in some time. Not entirely due to the fact that the bride and her father shared a real, genuine, and quite remarkable connection that made me feel quite happy for them both . . . and very sad for myself, in many ways. I felt sad for what I won't ever have, in this lifetime, having lost my biological father . . . and having had no one to ever step into the role properly. No one to ever proudly give me away or worry about who will take care of me in this lifetime . . . stay up at night and worry about who will provide for me, who will give me the life I deserve, stand by me when things get tough and treat me with the respect and love I am entitled to receive . . . nope. Instead, I had the distant stand-in, step-father type who really didn't care, once I'd left the house, what happened to me. Couldn't care, even now, to this day, what becomes of me. The fact that I have never married really doesn't register on his radar at all. I don't think that, at sixty-nine years of age, having never walked a daughter down an aisle keeps him up nights. He's not really made of the mushy stuff. This does not seem to be a loss that he calculates.

But back to Jackie and Kevin and their lovely family. Jackie's father approached me at the rehearsal, enfolding my hand in his and assuring me how pleased they all were that I had been selected to preside over the ceremony. He spoke with me, at length, about the special connection he shares with his little girl . . . about how there are things that only they, two, "get," and how when they have to explain it to others, it really loses its humor and its meaning . . . I smiled at his smile and laughed with his laughter, knowing that on some level, losing his daughter was breaking his heart. I looked at the twinkle he has in his eye for her, and I admired it. I really did. I saw how special it was, and I didn't envy it with the sadness I have felt when I have seen this connection before. I thought how truly fortunate they were to have that bond . . . and I knew that if I had ever had a daughter in this lifetime, I would have chosen her father very, very carefully, so as to ensure that she and he would have shared that . . . I would have encouraged it, and I would have watched it from across the room, knowing that I had done right by her, giving her what I had never had.

The wedding was lovely in its simplicity, but what makes it truly stand out is the reading that Jackie chose, which I will transcribe herewith. It was perfect, and it was a delight to read. It was so original, and I have added it to my materials, so other couples have the benefit of choosing it for their ceremonies. It received so many compliments.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I Like You”
by Sandol Stoddard Warburg

I like you and I know why.
I like you because you are a good person to like.
I like you because when I tell you something special, you know it’s special
And you remember it a long, long time.
You say, Remember when you told me something special
And both of us remember

When I think something is important
you think it’s important too
We have good ideas
When I say something funny, you laugh
I think I’m funny and you think I’m funny too
Hah-hah!
I like you because you know where I’m ticklish
And you don’t tickle me there except just a little tiny bit sometimes
But if you do, then I know where to tickle you too
You know how to be silly
That’s why I like you
Boy are you ever silly
I never met anybody sillier than me till I met you
I like you because you know when it’s time to stop being silly
Maybe day after tomorrow
Maybe never

That’s because you really like me
You really like me, don’t you
And I really like you back
And you like me back and I like you back
And that’s the way we keep on going every day

If you go away, then I go away too
or if I stay home, you send me a postcard
You don’t just say Well see you around sometime, bye
I like you a lot because of that
If I go away, I send you a postcard too
And I like you because if we go away together
And if we are in Grand Central Station
And if I get lost
Then you are the one that is yelling for me

And I like you because when I am feeling sad
You don’t always cheer me up right away
Sometimes it is better to be sad
You can’t stand the others being so googly and gaggly every single minute
You want to think about things
It takes time

I like you because if I am mad at you
Then you are mad at me too
It’s awful when the other person isn’t
They are so nice and hoo-hoo you could just about punch them in the nose

I like you because if I think I am going to throw up
then you are really sorry
You don’t just pretend you are busy looking at the birdies and all that
You say, maybe it was something you ate
You say, the same thing happened to me one time
And the same thing did

If you find two four-leaf clovers, you give me one
If I find four, I give you two
If we only find three, we keep on looking
Sometimes we have good luck, and sometimes we don’t

If I break my arm, and if you break your arm too
Then it’s fun to have a broken arm
I tell you about mine, you tell me about yours
We are both sorry
We write our names and draw pictures
We show everybody and they wish they had a broken arm too

I like you because I don’t know why but
Everything that happens is nicer with you
I can’t remember when I didn’t like you
It must have been lonesome then

I like you because because because
I forget why I like you but I do
So many reasons
On the 4th of July I like you because it’s the 4th of July
On the fifth of July, I like you too
If you and I had some drums and some horns and some horses
If we had some hats and some flags and some fire engines
We could be a HOLIDAY
We could be a CELEBRATION
We could be a WHOLE PARADE
See what I mean?

Even if it was the 999th of July
Even if it was August
Even if it was way down at the bottom of November
Even if it was no place particular in January
I would go on choosing you
And you would go on choosing me
Over and over again
That’s how it would happen every time
I don’t know why
I guess I don’t know why I really like you
Why do I like you
I guess I just like you
I guess I just like you because I like you.

The Cloisters Castle, Brooklandville

So, I'm back at the Cloisters Castle, with a lovely couple who met at the gym, of all places. They are sweet, and their friends and family are sweet. And on a cool spring evening with the threat of rain defied by the sun-dappled guests lingering all around the Castle, reluctant to take their places in their seats, enjoying the weather and the occasion . . . it's good to be me.

It is one of those wondrously rare weddings in which the couple is sweetly in love . . . not sickeningly in love, but sweetly in love. The kind of in-love that this minister sees once upon a blue moon . . . the kind of in-love that will get them through the job losses and the checkbook crunches . . . the kind of in-love that will weather the seven-year-itch when He gets a fetching young team mate at work who gives Him the googly eyes all day long and wears short skirts and avails herself to Him on a regular basis --- and all He can think about is Her, the Her of the vows, the rings, the pretty white dress and veil coming down the aisle now on Her father's arm. That kind of in-love. The kind of in-love that sticks. The kind of in-love that works, forever.

Right before the wedding starts, I make my last visit to the bridal room, and I am happy to find the girls partaking of a cold bottle of Riesling --- nothing wrong with a bit of sweet wine before the ceremony to take the edge off. It won't be until the vows, when She is repeating after me that I realize just how off that edge has been taken --- a bit too off, but He doesn't seem to mind, as He smiles at Her tipsiness and holds Her hands even more snugly.

The maid of honor compliments my cheap costume pearls, for which I thank her, and then she says to the bride and other bridesmaids, "Isn't she just the most beautiful minister you have ever seen?"

Unaccustomed to receiving compliments on a day traditionally reserved for complimenting only the bride, I immediately blush and thank her. When I get dressed to perform a wedding, I always keep in mind that it's not my day, so I keep my make-up and hair very natural and low-key . . . and I don't wear anything flashy. I know I'm going to be in a million photographs, so I look professional . . . but I don't do anything to stand out. I prefer to blend in --- do nothing to detract from the bride. She should always be the focus. So, rare as it is --- it's really nice to get a compliment.

The ceremony itself is jiffy --- less than fifteen minutes. Neither bride nor groom wanted something long, so they got something very short. It is a beautiful evening for it, and I have one of those moments afterward that happen once in a great while . . . where, watching them have their first photographs taken on the front steps of the castle, I feel a strange and strong mixture of emotions. I feel very happy for them . . . and very sad. Like I could cry. So, I wave goodbye and excuse myself, because although it is rare, it has happened before, and I know it's best to be in my car when the tears come. By the time I get the key in the ignition, it starts, and I am glad to be away from the possibility of being seen.

I slowly drive down the hill, through the wrought-iron gates, steering my car homeward, and blinking through the tears. It started with the Hurricane Isabel wedding, September 20, 2003 . . . I remember the low ache in my heart, the tears in the parking lot, the sadness I felt, leaving the couple. And it's only happened twice since, in 103 weddings . . . but all I can think is that it's me, and it's a selfish reaction to their happiness . . . that with some couples, the love I witness between them is so pure, so genuine and so real, and for a moment, I am swept up in it, enveloped by it, included, and it feels really good to be part of it. And leaving is really sad, like having warm covers yanked off of you in a cold, cold room, never to be returned . . . and emotionally, it hurts to go, but go, I must, because I am only an interloper . . . a participant and witness on one really important day in their lives . . . but that's all. It's so strange, this reaction, and I wish I understood it. It doesn't last long, but the sadness is very real, so I let the tears fall, and by the time I am home, it's done.

I guess it's just me . . . hoping that someday, I'll be lucky enough to find something that seems that easy, that natural, and that warm and inviting that it draws everyone into its circle, making everyone feel as welcome, beautiful and loved as these few couples have made me feel on their wedding days.

Westminster Hall, Baltimore

So, Edgar Allan Poe is buried here. I took a photograph of his tomb before the wedding because at the rehearsal on Friday, I marched right past it and took a quite humorous tour of the ENTIRE graveyard in search of it, not even seeing that it is, in fact, the FIRST grave marker inside the wrought-iron gates.

I was thrilled to perform this wedding at Westminster Hall because of the Poe connection, because of the photo op, and because, basically, I couldn't believe that in the thirteen years that I have called Baltimore my home, I have never before sought out Poe's grave . . . and I fancy myself a literary type. Standing there in full minister regalia, taking pictures like a tourist, I felt like a big loser. But, please: if it's taken me thirteen years and someone else's wedding to get down to the grave, it's unlikely I'm making the trip anytime soon just for myself, right?

I have to admit that this wedding was a little different. For one, on paper, it was one of the shortest ceremonies a couple has ever requested I perform. Ten minutes, tops. Basically, a greeting, a couple of readings, vows, rings, pronouncement, kiss, and out the door. Done. And the other thing that made it unique is that for a very young couple (thirty, never been married, no children, not religious, not getting married in a church), they wanted me to say the "forever hold your peace" bit. I specifically do not say this, nor do I offer it as part of my selections when a couple hires me. So, I was very surprised to see that the couple had chosen it as the very first thing out of my yap upon the bride taking her place at the altar.

I am always willing to work with a couple to do whatever they want, even when it is incongruent with my personal beliefs. This is an excellent case of just that. Despite not agreeing with the verbiage, personally, I was not at all going to discourage them from keeping it in the ceremony. If that is something they wanted to hear on their wedding day, fine. That's what they are paying me to do: perform a completely personalized ceremony. So, I said it. And when I got to the, "Speak now, or forever hold your peace," I watched as the bride widened her eyes and craned her neck to survey her guests, as if to ensure that no one responded. This elicited laughter. And no one spoke. I simply smiled, and when the laughter subsided, I acknowledged the silence with the ad-lib, "And this is as it should be," which elicited additional laughter.

The bride and groom had been friends for a long time before their feelings deepened into love. There was a brief portion of the ceremony devoted to discussing the friendship upon which their marriage shall be built. I noticed immediately that when I began speaking about this aspect of their relationship, they both started to cry. I was pleasantly surprised by this, as based on my interactions with the couple, it was unexpected and really quite sweet. When the bride's uncle stood to read a poem he had written especially for the occasion, his word choice could not have been more appropriate. He spoke of how in spite of the beauty of the moment, the bride and groom were really nothing more than two people who had started out as friends, two people who had liked each other . . . a lot. It hadn't really been that special. It really wasn't all that magical. It was just two people who liked each other . . . a lot.

And sometimes, that's all it takes.