I Meaghan take you Boy

How do I capture this moment? What I was thinking? (try not to cry) What I was feeling? (nauseous)

I guess I’ll just start from the beginning.  The music started.

Forrest Gump Suite.  Do you know it? We love movies the Boy and I and this one is quite possibly one of the best.  Plus, it’s such a great piece of music.

The girls went up and the last one to leave me was Sista, who wished me luck, and when she was at the front she gave the Boy a big hug (she said it just didn’t feel right to walk right passed him like she didn’t even know him) and then it was just me and my dad.

I stepped into the doorway and the tears started coming. But I looked straight ahead and focussed all my attention on the Boy and on not having makeup run down my face in the pictures.

Friends told me later they had never seen someone look like they were concentrating so hard and so focused.  One goal. Get to the Boy.  Get married.

We went through the beginning of the mass and as soon as the Boy and I were able to sit down – and listen the words we chose.

First up, Song of Songs  we chose it because I love the line My Beloved is mine, and I am my Beloved’s. Love it. Why not open a wedding with a love poem?

Second up, Letter of St. Paul to the Romans 12:1-2, 9-18; LOVES the line Rejoice with those who rejoice, Weep with those who weep. It’s a list of high ideals to aspire to – but hey, there’s nothing wrong with lofty goals.

Gospel, Matthew 5:1-12a I love the Beatitudes. Love them. Life is a mix, good and bad and so is marriage, love and faith can get you through.  Come on that’s just a good message to remember.

Side note here, while I had the more churchy upbringing the Boy knew what he wanted, or more specifically what he didn’t. Corinthians. Love IS patient and Love IS kind. But as the Boy says, “I hear the Bible has a lot of to say, I’m pretty sure we can find something that doesn’t make me think of Wedding Crashers”  Well said Boy. Well said.

Post readings, the vows. The big show. We didn’t write our own, in the Catholic church, since marriage is a sacrament they discourage you from writing your own vows but give you several to choose from. We went traditional.

It didn’t take long. But in those few moments we did it.

Married.

Mr and Mrs.

And I felt… hungry.

We went through the remainder of the mass and while walking up to sign the register, I tripped.  Seriously.  Just a small one. And only fitting really.  Coordinated? Not so much.

There we are signing away, I turned to our priest and said – “This is the wrong song”  He smiled and laughed and said “We had to make an executive decision – I was hoping you wouldn’t notice!” I told him – “You’ve obviously never planned a wedding if you thought I wouldn’t notice!” The Luckiest isn’t Catholic enough (or at all) apparently.

So it got cut. Shoot.

So the song was wrong.  I didn’t care.  The right song would have been lovely. But the wrong song was nice too – and spoiler alert, that was the only thing that went wrong (besides the trip I guess). And that’s good enough for me.  I was happy that I chose to write down the words to the right song in our program.

That’s it. We were married.  We RAN back up the aisle – the Boy has LONG legs when he wants to and then we shared high fives, hugs and fist pumps all around.

Done and done.  Married.

Let’s party. 

But first… I’m starving someone find me some food!

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One response

  1. Pingback: One More Week « The Twenties Roar

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