Posted on August 24th, 2017
When we left off, we were just gearing up for the actual wedding part of the wedding. In part because of its overwhelming significance, the ceremony had actually been the part that was slowest to fall into place when we were planning. Ian is Jewish and I am Christian but neither of us is particularly religious, and we felt like our options for both a venue and officiant were somewhat limited. As is so often the case, the answer was there quite literally all along: we were married in the outdoor amphitheater grove of the prep school where our courtship had began. It was, in fact, in the same place and outfits where Ian had escorted me down the aisle at our graduation.
I was all kinds of stressed by the idea of an outdoor ceremony. Even risk adverse control freaks cannot control the weather, but I was so #blessed to see nary a drop of rain on the radar on our wedding day. We provided our guests with lemonade to sip while the string quartet serenaded them as the ceremony began. It was a perfect summer day.
Or so I thought. The ceremony was brief, and exactly as we had planned. We stuck to secular readings to appease all parties, using a CS Lewis passage on being in love and the aptly-named poem “The Nightingale Has a Lyre of Gold” by William Ernest Henley. We had also written a few more personal words for one another before exchanging the traditional ones. I cried a lot, naturally. But right around the time I started hearing something about loving, cherishing, and honoring all the days of my life, I felt something on my arm.
A drop of water. Probably just a tear, I assured myself. Until I felt four more.
If rain on your wedding day is good luck, then we got just the perfect amount. When Ian broke the glass at the end of our ceremony, it was in the midst of a short and unexpected rain shower. Which, at the very least, cooled down our guests and made for some cute photos?
Soggy, and so very happy, we made our way to the reception.