a wedding story.

Reason #147 it would be awesome to have a boyfriend/be married: A built-in date to wedding receptions.

I had a wedding to do today – the one I told you about ages ago.  They’re not members and their pastor refused to do the wedding because they have a son.  [A mighty cute one.  He’s nearly three and walked down the aisle in a tux and with a sign that said, “Daddy, here comes our girl!”]  Anyways, I said I would do it and though things were slightly unorganized [as any good wedding is], we got through it – microphone, weather, and unity sand all cooperating.

Ceremony?  Check.  

Wine reception at the winery?  Check.  

Pastor Lindsay stopped at the Old Navy outlet briefly because it was on the way to the dinner?  Check.

Then it was reception/dinner time at the Holiday Inn – the time I dread as a single introverted pastor.  Luckily, I was assigned a table and a seat so I didn’t need to awkwardly find one.  The plan was to pray for the meal, eat the meal, and then hit the road.  It pretty much worked, though the prayer was proceeded by the bride swearing profusely about some relative or other at the head table as I asked her about the schedule of things.  And then during the prayer I could hear the bride sobbing in the background.  The table I was seated at was with spouses of wedding party people.  Most of them had been on the party bus between the ceremony and the reception.  Many of them were very drunk.  I was seated between ladies and gents giving the middle finger, cursing, and then covering their mouth and pointing to me and whispering, “We’re sitting with the pastor!  Who would put the pastor at our table?”

Yup.

That’s the story.