I Married My Son

Last Saturday, on a chilly wet evening in Dallas, I stood before my oldest son and his bride and officiated their wedding. It was a momentous event for me- one that I don't intend to repeat, except for when my youngest son gets married and it had better not be soon.

It was an event unique for me. I have never previously officiated at a wedding and been the father of the groom. I had prepared myself. I thought through the ceremony and selected fitting paragraphs and vows. I also knew that the ceremony had to be personal. After all, this was my eldest son who I was marrying.

I noted his birth which came after two miscarriages and was followed by another. I recalled his profession of faith as a boy and found a picture just before we left of my baptizing him. Where did this little boy looking up at his father go? I remembered my discussion with him of a call to ministry and it being made public on a Sunday evening at church. I also noted how his mother and I prayed for his wife, Melody, before we even knew her practically since the day he was born. I made reference to all of this- at least on paper.

I had good intentions. I was going to recite these memories just before I led the happy couple in a recitation of their vows. That is, until the ceremony began.

It began a few minutes late. Because of the weather, there were several late arrivals, so we delayed the start. The crowd was a decent size, composed mostly of fellow workers of the bride and groom with a smattering of family and friends. Four people came all the way from southwest Louisiana to join us. I give them my "You Are My Heroes" award.

I was fine and relaxed until a corsage was placed on the seat my mother, the grandmother of the groom, would have sat. She died only two months earlier and was thus unable to see her first grandchild get married. Seeing the empty chair caused my lips to quiver and my eyes to get misty. I quickly attempted regain my ministerial composure.

Then, a humorous moment occurred as an usher- the bride's brother- prepared to usher their mother to the altar to light the unity candle. Just as the couple prepared to embark down the aisle, his cell phone went off. It was not a mild tinkle which was emitted. It sounded like some sort of rap song at full volume. The now rattled usher hastily ripped the phone out of his pocket and silenced its urgent appeal to be answered- at least for the moment. Then, just as the mother and her escort son prepared to march down the aisle a second time, the cell phone again announced its presence. Thoroughly rattled, the young usher deftly jerked the phone out of his pocket for the second time and slammed it against the wall. This did not silence it, however. It took the best man retrieving it out of the corner into which it had been flung and turning it off and into blissful silence. I struggled to keep from laughing out loud. After all, the doors were wide open and the guests, sensing something was going on, were beginning to crane their necks for a look back our way. We were all glad that this did not occur even 60 seconds later when the usher and his mother would be at the front of the auditorium. In my mind's eye, I still see this possibility and imagine his mother attempting some sort of violent act upon her son.

After this minor misfortune, the rest of the ceremony went off without a hitch. That is, until I mounted the stage and began the ceremony.

I choked.

I got misty eyed. The loss of my dear mother was still tender to me. The corsage in the empty seat only reminded me of this fact. The emotions of my eldest son getting married overcame me. I could barely speak above a whisper as I choked back tears. I paused. I spoke. I regained composure only to lose it again. I could barely speak the words I had carefully thought out. I was barely able above a whisper to recall my son's birth, salvation experience, call to ministry, and announcement that "this is the one" he would marry.

Not to worry, though. By the time we got to the "I will" part, I was back to more of my ministerial self. We got through the ceremony, the exchange of vows, and the giving of rings. My son and his new bride are on their honeymoon in Hawaii, and I am back home.

It is difficult to wear both of those hats- father of the groom as well as officiating minister. I suspect I did as well as any of my brethren in the same situation. People commented that the ceremony was very touching. I hope so. In one fell swoop, I proved that preachers are humans, too.

After all, I married my son.