I write wedding ceremonies for a living. I write custom vows for a living. So, as I think about my couples’ wedding vows, I often find myself thinking about my own vows. And today, on my thirtieth wedding anniversary, I am thinking about those vows.
Now, let me start by saying I wish I could have customized my vows. That was not an option for me and most of Gen X. We just fell in line – standard ceremony and all. And because we married in the church I grew up in, our choice was about the minister, and not the ceremony/ritual itself. So, we got the regular ole wedding ceremony. Fifteen minutes plus processional and recessional. In and out! Off to the reception . . and forever.
But honestly? I am not sure what I would have said if I’d even been given an option to customize. I was so young. So green. So naive. So sweet. Wide-eyed, and frankly, stupid. My husband, too. He agrees – I am not saying anything out of line! I probably would have said some sappy crap that would simply mortify me today. Kudos to my amazing couples who come to marriage a bit older, a bit wiser, and far more articulate and emotionally intelligent. I have witnessed some gorgeous vows over the years!
That all said, my vows were sufficient. In fact, when I consider them, they aren’t so bad:
I, Sarah, take you, José, to be my husband,
to have and to hold
from this day forward,
for better, for worse,
for richer, for poorer,
in sickness and in health,
to love and to cherish,
until we are parted by death.
This is my solemn vow.
While not very creative, they do actually serve the purpose . . . and considering them after thirty years together, they do actually have a lot more depth and texture from this side of their recitation. It is always a fascinating exercise to look at these words and think about what they encompass. I feel like, as empty nesters, we are living “the better” these days. But we’ve definitely had worse. Much worse. We’ve had health, thankfully. And we have had sickness . . . mine, his, both of our children. All scary moments. All weathered better together. I am glad those are in the past. For richer and for poorer. We always assume this line means money. From this side of things, I can tell you that’s not necessarily what that line means. It is certainly not exclusively what that line means. To love and to cherish. Not sure I could even understand cherish when I was twenty-four years old. And love? As most people with long marriages will say . . . there is no way to grasp the depth of love over time. You must simply live it, embrace it, wonder over it, celebrate it. So, all in all, yes. I stand by these vows.
Finally, I am not sure why it has never occurred to me before, especially since my former PR director encouraged me to write “fictional” wedding ceremonies from time to time as a fun and interesting exercise. (For example, because I am a Potterhead, she believes I should write the wedding ceremony for Harry and Ginny.) But I’ve never really thought about writing my own custom vows. Until now. So, hey – I have the chance, right here in this blog, to rewrite my vows. To write renewal vows. But I won’t. Not here, at least. But . . .
I did. I did rewrite them. And it was a fascinating exercise for me. I had to think about where we’d been as a couple. I thought about where we are as a couple. And most of all, I had to think about where we are going from here, which was a poignant experiment. I thought about who I was, and who I am. And what that meant for our marriage space . . . what did I bring to “us?” And what do I bring now? What will I bring, or rather . . . what do I want to bring as we embark on this next year, decade, decades of our marriage?
Those rewritten vows are tucked inside the Hallmark card I am gifting my husband. Along with a custom-made, mother-of-pearl kitchen knife crafted for him by Humble Blades (with the help of my friend, Chef Aaron Vasquez). And note: thirty years is pearl. Cool, if I don’t say so myself.
My husband isn’t always easy to read, to be honest. I have no idea how he will receive any of it. The card. The vows. The knife. Who knows? What I do know, without a doubt, is that our vows . . . the ones we spoke thirty years ago in front of our family and friends, are still as true for him as they are for me. And I also know that I’d do it all again with him . . . just as I know he would do it all again with me. So, hey . . . guess that means we will keep doing all of life together until we are parted by death.
Happy Thirtieth Anniversary, Joey. I love you.
Sarah has been crafting custom weddings for couples of all kinds since 1999. Sarah is a Ravenclaw, and loves mythology, historical fiction, hot tea, iced coffee, and spin cycling. She is an ordained minister who believes in coloring outside the lines. Sarah has been married to her best friend, Joe, since 1994. Together, their greatest treasures are their two (adult!) children, and the marriage they’ve cultivated.