Ahh, after ten months of planning, the day was here. October twenty-five dawned, a beautiful, clear, sunny fall day, with absolutely perfect temps. Since our wedding was at 7 PM, I slept until a reasonable hour and had a chill morning showering and checking my overnight bag was packed and not freaking out at all. Around 9 AM my bridesmaids, who were my sisters and Lynette, arrived at my apartment, armed with mini quiches and good cheer. We breakfasted leisurely together, and I copied my vows from my phone into the little booklet I had.

I started my makeup, but had to stop before I’d done much to head to the hairdressers with my sisters, who had also opted to get it done with me. We went to my local little place in Forest Hills, and after a very long and very massagey hair wash which was so relaxing and definitely made me late (oops), my talented hair stylist fussed and curled and primped and teased, long after I thought it looked perfect, until he was convinced it would withstand a day of photos and wind and hugs. And to his credit, it held up just right!

By the time he was done, it was high time to get ourselves to the church, so we popped back to my apartment to gather all accoutrements, and ubered down to Brooklyn, to the church where I had a room reserved for my especial use. I finished my makeup in the abysmal lighting (if I looked cakey, please blame the lack of good light I had), and it was immediately time to slip into my dress for the first look. I had given my niece Tirzah my phone for the day, so she lurked in the shadows taking pictures and videos as I climbed onto the stage while Ian waited with his back turned, just below. We had a delightful moment to ourselves, admiring each other’s finery and relishing the fact that the day had finally arrived and we were here at last, together. Our photographer got some cool, moody shots of us in the empty sanctuary, before we rejoined our bridal party for the next stage: pictures!

We had scouted out a few autumnal spots in Prospect Park, and our brothers Michael and Daniel turned their family vans into our limousines, driving us down there, taking care of the parking, and generally making the day much easier. Transportation in NYC is no joke, and I had spent a lot of time and brain cells trying to figure out how everyone would get to everywhere they needed to be all week. ‘Twas very nice to have such willing volunteers to cart us around. We traipsed up and down the leaf-strewn paths, taking pictures on a bridge and under the stone arch, and enjoying the perfect fall weather. The best photo of the day was when the photographer asked Ian to kiss my hand, and he, misunderstanding the tender moment, sniffed it loudly instead, causing much hilarity to ensue.

We finished at the park and our chauffeurs drove us back to the church, where the glamorously bedecked family was awaiting their turn. We took family photos on the steps of the stage, then sent the family upstairs to a meal we had waiting for them, since kids cannot attend weddings on empty stomachs, and adults probably shouldn’t either. The family enjoyed their plantains and pernil while Ian and I went our separate ways to our reserved rooms for a moment of quiet and breathing into paper bags before the ceremony. I couldn’t manage to eat anything, and Ian didn’t either, for fear of marring his perfectly white shirt. Rosie watched my room like a guard dog and I had a few moments of peace and quiet, while Ian got marriage advice from the deacons whose lounge he had crashed.

And then it was time. In what felt like very little time, the family had finished eating and had gone to their seats in the sanctuary, where we had a playlist of songs from “Pride and Prejudice” and “Up” and various classical pieces wafting through. I wound my way through the maze of the building, through the basement, up the very-unreliable elevator which was definitely a risk in a moment like that, and made it to the back of the sanctuary unseen. Meanwhile, Ian seated the mothers, then the praise and worship began. It was Ian’s idea to have it first, before we walked down the aisle, and it was one of my favorite things we did, for reasons I shall explain in depth in a later post. After our little dance party with the flower girls and ring bearers behind the sanctuary, the band began to play Stevie Wonder’s You Are the Sunshine of My Life, and one by one, Ian, the bridal party, and all the kids made their way to the front, while I watched through a crack in the door. And then it was my turn.

Silence fell. The band began to play, and Aimee began to sing, “See what the Lord has done. See what the Lord has done. What we’ve waited for has come to pass. See what the Lord has done.” I waited out the intro (while Ian stood up front, wondering if I had run away, lol), and then the doors opened and I began the walk down the lengthiest aisle you’ve ever seen. I remember it vividly. I remember looking at specific people as I walked down the aisle, and I remember thinking that my smile was too huge and I should surely curb it, but being unable to do so for more than a second. And then I had made it to the front, and everything else felt so surreal.

We had a brief Scripture reading; Ephesians 3:14-21 if you’re interested. We took communion while the band played the most haunting rendition of Gabriel’s Oboe/How Great Thou Art. My sister had Gabriel’s Oboe as her recessional and as for How Great Thou Art, well, I loathed that song when we lived in Honduras and constantly had to sing it by every scenic mountain view with our awe-struck guests, so it was kind of a personal joke on myself that I ended up choosing it for our wedding. But this arrangement was incredible, and I was so pleased when our violinist Carol suggested it when we were trying to figure out a communion song. Our parents prayed over us, we exchanged vows and rings and kisses, and then, while the band played an absolute bop of gospel music, we all sped our way down the aisle.

After hugs and merriment, the family went upstairs to the Mezzanine lobby where we had refreshments set out, a photo booth, and space for the out-of-town family to hang out and wait for us to join them. Meanwhile, Ian and myself and our parents stationed ourselves in the Fulton lobby below, where we greeted each of our guests, took pictures if they wanted to, and sent them on their joyous way, hands and mouths full of cake and cookies and sparkling ciders, as Ian’s celebratory gospel playlist blasted from all the speakers.

After the receiving line ended, days or weeks later (so sorry to all of our guests who patiently stood in it, but we wanted to make sure we could say hi!), we went up to the Mezzanine lobby where we hugged our relatives and chatted it up a little. I fear that part is just a blur of hugs and smiles and people in my memory, and before we knew it, it was late and time to say goodnight. We did not plan any kind of special exit, just hugged people and then sailed off, clutching a bag of leftovers from the pre-ceremony dinner that someone had kindly packed for us, and drove to the Plaza Hotel, perhaps the most ridiculous extravagance of the whole wedding, but so fun. We opened cards and ordered room service (if you’re being extravagant, might as well go all out) and ate the chocolate covered strawberries the hotel had placed in our room, and that is all she wrote.

I asked Ian if he had any comments to add about the wedding day. He said, “Thank God it’s over, and I don’t ever have to do it again.” I would like to add, AMEN.

Next up, things I regretted or would absolutely do again from our wedding. Stay tuned!