GOING TO THE CHAPEL

Two weekends ago, I got to go to an absolutely lovely wedding in a gorgeous Gothic chapel in Spring Grove Cemetery. It really is a lovely space – old, gray stone, vaulted ceilings, beautiful acoustics…. Everything one could want for the setting of a wedding.

The groom has been a long-time friend of ours for years, and his wife has fast become a good friend as well. They didn’t do a traditional ceremony, nor did they wear the usual garb. Instead, they were both dressed in some variation of black and silver and I have to say that the bride looked GORGEOUS. In fact, the only time that I cried during the ceremony was when I saw her appear at the back of the church.

Of course, my lack of eye-watering might have been a result of having heard the ceremony many, many times. It was, I must say, quite beautiful and touching – I admit that I did actually cry the first time I heard the introduction.

But, I’d heard it over and over in my living room since that time, and perhaps I had all of the tears out of my system. In fact, I had heard most of the ceremony before the bride and groom had even heard it.

Why is this? you might ask.

(Pardon me while I pause to start giggling.)

Because (more giggling) I am the wife of the minister, of course.

Ok, now I’m laughing again. Just seeing those words written out IN PRINT even makes me laugh. And you’d think that I’d be over it by now, that the mirth would have worn off. But no… it’s the giggle that just keeps on giggling.

When my partner finally got his minister’s license several months ago, I totally supported his decision. He had been asked so many times to perform weddings and funerals that "making it legal" seemed the only logical choice.

But then the realization hit me – I was a minister’s wife. Me. A minister’s wife.

Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahetc…

I immediately called my mother to tell her the hysterical news that her daughter was a minister’s wife – not exactly what she had ever anticipated for my future.

And occasionally, at the wedding, someone would address me as "the minister’s wife," and I would do my best to not actually laugh out loud. Mostly I succeeded, though not every time, to be sure.

I even had a very "minister’s wife" moment while we were preparing for the wedding…

The bride and groom were sitting in our living room going over a stack of poetry by Rumi while I sat on the floor sewing silver buttons onto an antique Catholic priest’s cassock which I had painstakingly refurbished for the occasion. It struck me as so funny… there I was, sewing my partner’s robe while they went over the specifics of the ceremony. I’m sure that minister’s wives have done such things since time immemorial.

And that made me laugh again. Oh, it is just too funny.

Ironically, I am much more amused that I am the wife of a minister than that I am a minister myself.

Yes, laugh if you will (I certainly did), but I had a good reason for my decision. No, it wasn’t because my spiritual services were already in high demand. Nor was it so that I could legally counsel lost souls. No, my decision to become a minister was a purely mercenary and financial one.

I needed software. Screenplay writing software, to be exact. For years I had been looking for a system which was affordable AND would do everything I needed it to do. No such software existed – all of it was either expensive and worked or was cheap and didn’t.

Then, The Screenplay hit me. All at once. In a dream. Or rather, in a series of dreams one right after the other until all I had to do was weave the elements together.

Damn. Now I really did need the software. And it was still horribly expensive.

In shopping around for prices, I noticed several places which would give discounts for educational purposes, i.e. if I was still technically a student, I could have gotten it much cheaper.

My husband, who teaches meditation at a local college, qualified as educational staff, but then I couldn’t charge the software to the credit card which was in my name.

Drats – foiled again.

But then I found a place which would give a discount to educators, military personnel or clergy.

Clergy? Hmmm….

So, that’s my story. I am legally a minister. Why? Because I wanted to get a discount on expensive screenplay writing software.

It’s funny, but still not quite as funny as being a minister’s wife.

In another amusing note, just this past weekend my partner gave massages to an entire bridal party. This in itself isn’t particularly amusing – he is a licensed massage therapist, after all.

It’s the juxtaposition that cracks me up… He’s wondering how long it will be until he’s asked to give the bride and bridal party massages one evening and then marry her and her fiancé the next. We’ve taken to calling him "The Rubbing Reverend." Though, as of yet, he refuses to have that printed on his business cards.

So, our friends are very happily married in what was a beautiful, meaningful and completely unique ceremony. The groom sang a lovely song he had written for his bride at the end of the ceremony, the words of which are still going through my head. There were readings from Rumi, violins playing the processional and recessional, and live drums behind my friend’s vocals. All in all a moving and wonderful experience for all who attended and participated – I think that our friends will continue to be very, very happy together.

And, to their families, I will forever be known as "the minister’s wife."