2 surprising things about marrying off my kid

1. I feel like a real grown-up now.

Maybe it was spending a whole weekend in the time-honored role of Parent of the Groom: Generation That Makes Way for New Generation. Maybe it was the immense pride in hearing my little boy described not just as a man, but as an exceptionally godly man. But somehow it feels like the last task of adulthood: successfully and fully launching another new adult, has been accomplished.

2. The loss comes later.

Maddie’s stepdad quoted, “You’re not losing a son, you’re gaining a daughter,” and at the moment it described how I’ve always felt about the addition of Maddie to our life. We raised our glasses and sent them off to their honeymoon with joy—and the sense of loss hit me the very evening they got back, when they joined us for a family dinner at Grandma’s house and left before we did. And on Sunday they arrived at church together, sat together, and left together, and had no need to spend the afternoon at our house in order to be together; they can be together much better at their own house now.

It’s not unexpected; several weeks ago Jason asked me how I thought life would change after the wedding and I said I expected we would see them less (Jason said he expected many more insurance questions; we’re both right).

It’s good and healthy and expected, which is perhaps why the delayed sense of loss surprised me.

Or maybe a day so brimming with joy simply left no room at all for sadness.

Snapshots

How do you describe the wedding of your firstborn?

It was happy—exuberantly, joyfully, hilariously happy. 

It was Christ-exalting—solemn vows were made to uphold the biblical design for marriage.

It was encouraging—the room was chock-full of affectionate witnesses implicitly committed to pointing the new couple, and all of us, to Jesus.

As I wait to see all the professional photos, I reflect on the clearest snapshots in my mind:

The groomsmen goofing off at the rehearsal such that even the pastor was laughing at their spirited execution of duties, whether marching in line or standing in for the absent flower girls (I wondered how often this pastor has had that much fun at a wedding rehearsal).  

Getting to hang out all day in the beautiful bridal suite with the sweet girls of the bridal party and the hair/makeup entourage.

The eagerly helpful way milling guests responded when I asked them to help move tables so we could do the ceremony inside instead of out in the thunderstorm.

When the groomsmen entered in their line (soberly this time) and assembled themselves up front, and I looked at Jeddy, and he was so handsome standing there prepared to receive his bride, that I started crying then and didn’t let up until the end of the ceremony.

The serene flower girl army coming down the aisle in pairs, gently dropping petals as they came.

When Maddie’s stepfather unexpectedly mentioned me by name in his speech, in quoting Maddie’s response when he asked her who in her life gives her good counsel (“her mother and Mindy”), to prove that my family is gaining a daughter.

The entirety of the best man speech, when Jeddy’s best friend and roommate spent ten minutes describing exactly the sort of man that I always hoped Jeddy would turn out to be.

The maid of honor tearing up when she described her skepticism that any guy would be good enough for Maddie, and how it dissolved when she met Jeddy and realized that after all, this man was worthy of her.

The wild dancing by all ages on the packed dance floor.

When Maddie threw the bite of wedding cake and Jed caught it in his mouth, proving that this union is, indeed, meant to be.

A mass cloud of iridescent bubbles floating up into the night.

Cheering ourselves hoarse and waving goodbye to taillights.