March marks our wedding anniversary and, almost always, it falls during Lent. (That's inevitably what happens when you intentionally get married around Mardi Gras). Yet despite sometimes sitting down to a celebration dinner of a grilled fish and bread instead of steak and chocolate cake, a Lenten anniversary actually turns out to be more appropriate than I ever could have thought on our wedding day. Marriage, like all vocations of love, is a jewel polished by sacrifice and self-gift. Marriage structures our time—our lifetimes—into a treasure of opportunity to fulfill our deepest, fullest selves. This is not unlike the invitation of Lent to detach from selfishness in order that we may become freer, more whole, more radiant with love.

In honor of another Mardi Gras-marriage-Lent season, here are five things that surprised me about our wedding day and how—surprisingly—they connect to Lent.

1. I didn't feel supremely different than every other day. By the time we got married, I had already been a bridesmaid eight times (that total has since risen to eleven times). When my turn came around, I had no shortage of input about wedding day expectations. They said, Oh, you won’t be able to sleep, you’ll be so excited! (I overslept and my sister had to wake me up). They said, You will remember everything because it’s the most important day of your life! (I always forget various bits until I dig up the printed program). They said, It will be the happiest day of your life! (see number 2…).

2. It was not the best/happiest day of my life. A lot of sources say your wedding day is supposed to be the happiest of all days. Bridal culture, social media reels, endless shows and movies, fairy tales, the Hallmark industrial complex—pretty much the whole of society promises that Your Wedding Day will be the peak of euphoria. On my wedding day I felt overjoyed, of course, but I also felt nervous and mildly stressed. Since then, I have enjoyed many days—hundreds of days!—that were objectively and subjectively happier than that one Saturday in March. Some of them occurred on incredible trips and some of them occurred on random Thursdays. And thank God for that! How sad would it be to know that, as your wedding day unfolds and passes, that this is the happiest you’ll ever be, and that no other experience will ever again reach those heights joy? I think when happily married people say this, they're sort of consolidating years of joy into the starting moment. But don’t burden yourself with the expectation that the wedding day has to live up to something. The best is yet to be.

3. I hated walking down the aisle.  When I walked down the aisle, I was not flushed with romance and bliss. No, I was freaking the * out. The lifelong commitment! All those people staring at me! I remember thinking I can't wait to get to the end as I walked past people representing every phase of my life, all at once. Sheesh. Walking out of the church escorted by my brand new husband after the Mass? Amazing! No 200 pairs of eyes boring holes into my soul, just a crowd of people anxious to get to the free bar, too occupied fishing out car keys and packing up handbags to stare… So. Much. Better.

4. But I loved wearing a veil. Inordinately so. I'm not sure what sparked my starry-eyed infatuation with a few yards of plain tulle, but I just loved it: the way it looked, the way it felt, the way it swished behind me gracefully. Something about wearing a veil made me feel so feminine, beautiful, lovely. I can't think of another time I'll ever get to wear a veil again, so brides: my advice? Skip the flower crowns and tiaras and go for the veil.

5. The Gospel reading has stayed with me ever since. We chose Matthew 7: 24-29, in which Jesus teaches about two houses built upon different foundations—one of sand, one of rock—and the starkly contrasting consequences upon each house's ability to withstand a storm.  We thought the reading offered a great “mission statement” for a strong marriage. Now? Pushing 25 years later? Although we knew hardly anything when we got married about being married, how true those words have proved themselves, over and over—God’s love has indeed sustained us through storms of all kinds.

   
   

Our wedding day was a beautiful, cherished day, but that day marked only an invitation for truly engaging, rather than just drifting through, all the ordinary days that followed. Lent, too, begins with a signature day (Ash Wednesday) meant to draw us into the 40 ordinary days that follow, to engage them with a fresh commitment and spend them the best way we can possibly spend our time: loving others better than we did yesterday.

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