all pictures by Jorge Garcia , our awesome photographer
The process of planning a wedding as a bride is an interesting phenomenon. We, women, have found a man we want to spend the rest of our lives with, and once we say yes to the big question, we lose all perspective. The ceremony, the WHOLE POINT OF THE DAY, somehow becomes lost in a sea of shoes and favors and who's having chicken or beef. Our living room floors are covered with every issue of Brides we can get our hands on and the DVR is set to Say Yes To The Dress. I admit, this was me, I succumbed to the details during the planning process. It took us 15 minutes to decide what scripture we wanted read at the wedding. It took me 15 HOURS to design and craft the programs seen above. Many times, when having an emotional breakdown over my gocco breaking or the kinds of candy for the buffet or the DJ not playing the Grease Medley*, I had to scream at myself calmly tell myself to remain in perspective and remember what the point of the day was.
It would be OK if I printed out my invites on the computer printer, no one cared what flavor of lollipops were available, and people love to do the Grease Lightning dance.
What really mattered was the feeling of walking down the aisle with my dad, doing some crazy lamaze breathing technique so I didn't have a full blown crying fit.
The heavy breathing kept the tears under wraps.
That is until I got to the altar and almost lost it. This is my "oh my, don't lose it now, come on Michelle, keep it together" face.
I never subscribed to the school of thought that I, as a daughter, was a possession to be given away to a suitor. Having said my little feminist statement, I'll say this, that exact moment where my dad placed my hand into Adam's was pivotal in my life, maybe even more so than when we were officially pronounced as married. The word stopped turning in that one second. I was officially becoming his wife. (How cute is Adam's face here? Come on!)
My mom gave a testament, during which we all laughed and cried. Embarrassing stories where told about me, like when I was 9 and said I was going to marry a man with a beard....so I could save money on saving cream. Or when I was 10 and said I wanted to marry a man who does housework....so I could sit on my butt all day and do nothing. Surprisingly (or maybe not so), at 27, I agree with those two statements. My husband has a beard and does housework. My pre-adolescent self is jumping with joy right now.
The pastor I grew up with gave a wonderful sermon. More than once, I thought to myself, "oh my gosh, I'M GETTING MARRIED, I'M GETTING MARRIED, I'M GETTING MARRIED."
See this picture? Have you ever, in your life, seen a wedding ceremony where the paster puts his back to the congregation to administer the vows? YEA. ME NEITHER. Back story: at the rehearsal, he wanted to stand with his back to the guests, I put my stressed-out bride foot down and said, "No way, Jose'. how is anyone supposed to see us? What about THE PICTURES**??!" We agreed he would stand in front of the altar facing the guests, just like any other wedding ceremony anywhere ON THIS PLANET. Obviously, this didn't happen. He stood with his back to everyone. I almost had a melt down right there in the middle of my own wedding ceremony. I regained perspective and am now chalking it up to a funny story. It's a small detail that has made our wedding OUR wedding.
We prayed.
We kissed.
We married.
*through the planning I forgot to add the Grease Medley to the no-play list. I just hate that song. The guests loved it, everyone was on the dance floor.
**again, my rational thinking and perspective went out the window here.
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