Everything started and finished just fine, except that I never started paying attention. I had someone else play my part and walk down the aisle; I answered a few questions and changed a few things; but, other than that, I remained unconcerned. I had finally resigned to the fact that no matter what happened in that chapel on Saturday, everything would be fine. Maybe it would've been helpful to listen to Mr. Lou talk about what was going to happen, but I didn't. Maybe I should've sat closer to the front so that I could interject my thoughts, but I didn't. I just sat and watched and started to understand. I started to understand that Hub and I really were getting married. I started to understand that all of the preparations and stress and worry and fun had come down to this. It was time. It was time for me to decide that the memories surrounding my wedding weekend would be fun and joyous and entertaining and stress free as possible. So, I decided that I was done worrying and perfecting. Things would turn out alright. The good Lord would take care of me, of us, and He did. Of course, He did.
When I write down all these feelings I had and these decisions I made in a one hour time span, it sounds so serious and deep, but it wasn't. I was bored. I was ready to leave. I already knew about everything that was happening because I had played the tape in my head over and over of what my wedding would look like. I knew everything would be just fine, just beautiful because I'd already seen it a million times. Finally, I was confident that everything really would be absolutely, positively perfect. And I understood that any piece of the wedding that didn't turn out absolutely, positively perfect would be out of my control, anyway, and probably wouldn't matter in a week's time.
It was a beautiful revelation.
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