Single Mormon Twentysomething ties the knot
I sat nervously in the Draper, Utah temple,
waiting for my wife of 30 minutes to emerge from the dressing room. I tried to
quietly reflect on the ceremony and the covenants I had made, but every time a
girl dressed in white walked by, I quickly jumped to my feet. And if you know
anything about LDS temples, you can probably imagine that this reaction didn’t
allow for much reverent pondering.
After an excruciating 15 minutes, one of the temple matrons who had been helping my bride approached me and whispered, "Congratulations on your marriage. I guess now you’ll have to find a new name for your column."
And so here I am, writing to you for the first time since I’ve officially shed the "single, Mormon twentysomething" label and become a "newlywed."
My new column has yet to be named, but as far as content goes, don't expect too drastic a change: I'll still be providing observations on life, relationships, politics and religion. The only that will change, I suspect, is my personal worldview.
Anyway, less than a week later, the wedding day is already blurred in my memory.
I remember windblown people cheering as we walked out the temple doors. I remember rushed photos being taken as the line of rain crept down the mountainside, threatening to soak the wedding party. Our bridesmaids, groomsmen and guests managed to escape before the rain arrived, but not me and Annie. We were stuck outside with our very determined photographer, taking about a hundred "one more shot(s)."
By the time we got to the reception, the once-mild rainstorm had turned into a downpour. Rather than moving the event indoors, our parents had mobilized a handful of ultra-helpful guests and transformed the rented tent into a well-heated, well-lit sanctuaty.
Sure, several of the guests had towels draped over their shoulders, and yeah, my dad was wearing a Red Sox cap that clashed with his suit in order to cover his disheveled hair, but we weren’t complaining. In my deliriously happy and exhausted state, the only thought that could register was, "I bet this will make for a good story some day."
Some reminded us that rain on a wedding day is good luck. Others offered the consolation that soon we would be honeymooning in sunny southern California. But my favorite reaction to the rain came from a man in my parents' ward.
"I guess the rain is appropriate," he said. "After all, this is the funeral of your single life."
Eventually, after lots of hugs, handshakes and congratulations, I got Annie into the car and we sped off. As the day’s first rays of sun made their way through cracks in the cloudy sky, I gave my new wife's hand a squeeze and realized I had absolutely nothing to mourn.
After an excruciating 15 minutes, one of the temple matrons who had been helping my bride approached me and whispered, "Congratulations on your marriage. I guess now you’ll have to find a new name for your column."
And so here I am, writing to you for the first time since I’ve officially shed the "single, Mormon twentysomething" label and become a "newlywed."
My new column has yet to be named, but as far as content goes, don't expect too drastic a change: I'll still be providing observations on life, relationships, politics and religion. The only that will change, I suspect, is my personal worldview.
Anyway, less than a week later, the wedding day is already blurred in my memory.
I remember windblown people cheering as we walked out the temple doors. I remember rushed photos being taken as the line of rain crept down the mountainside, threatening to soak the wedding party. Our bridesmaids, groomsmen and guests managed to escape before the rain arrived, but not me and Annie. We were stuck outside with our very determined photographer, taking about a hundred "one more shot(s)."
By the time we got to the reception, the once-mild rainstorm had turned into a downpour. Rather than moving the event indoors, our parents had mobilized a handful of ultra-helpful guests and transformed the rented tent into a well-heated, well-lit sanctuaty.
Sure, several of the guests had towels draped over their shoulders, and yeah, my dad was wearing a Red Sox cap that clashed with his suit in order to cover his disheveled hair, but we weren’t complaining. In my deliriously happy and exhausted state, the only thought that could register was, "I bet this will make for a good story some day."
Some reminded us that rain on a wedding day is good luck. Others offered the consolation that soon we would be honeymooning in sunny southern California. But my favorite reaction to the rain came from a man in my parents' ward.
"I guess the rain is appropriate," he said. "After all, this is the funeral of your single life."
Eventually, after lots of hugs, handshakes and congratulations, I got Annie into the car and we sped off. As the day’s first rays of sun made their way through cracks in the cloudy sky, I gave my new wife's hand a squeeze and realized I had absolutely nothing to mourn.
100: Celebrating a Century of Recording Excellence — Mormon Tabernacle Choir
Return: Four Phases of Our Mortal Journey Home — Robert D. Hales
The Eternal Christ — Truman G. Madsen
Driven: An Autobiography — Larry H. Miller and Doug Robinson
Fishing: Observations of a Reel Man — John Bytheway
2010 Summer Playlist — Deseret Book Company
Heavensong: Music of Contemplation and Light — Mormon Tabernacle Choir
Then Sings My Soul — Jenny Oaks Baker
Song of Redeeming Love — Dallyn Vail Bayles
Fablehaven, Vol. 5: Keys to the Demon Prison — Brandon Mull
Book of Mormon Stories (Beginning Reader) — LDS Distribution Center
Knights of Right, Vol. 1: The Falcon Shield — M’Lin Rowley
Fablehaven Boxed Set, Vol. 1-3 — Brandon Mull
My First Book of Mormon Stories — Deanna Draper Buck