Last evening I had the pleasure and privilege of sitting down with a nervous groom for almost 30 minutes before we began the ceremony. This is a man in his mid-thirties, well-educated, confident, easy-going, great sense of humor. But when his buddies started to arrive, even they were asking: "Are you OK?"
He told them he was, but in a quiet little corner, he confessed to me that he was nervous. But this was not the simple nervous of "I have to say those words and smile in front of all those people". This was deep within his bones: his life was changing in a matter of minutes; this was real, as in stepping up to the plate and taking on the weight of combining his life with another human being as imperfect as he is. Making promises he would keep, and someday discovering their nuance, ambiguity, and power to take him through suffering he can't imagine at this moment. This was not a dress rehearsal for a soap opera drama.
Many grooms appear placid and under control, but more often than not, they are barely masking not only their nerves, but also their vulnerability. I have witnessed more grooms than brides with tears in their throat (and streaming down their faces). This is one of the few times in his life that a man has permission to be moved to tears. It's this rush of energy, feeling like nerves, invigorated by passion and anxiety, that courses through his veins and brings him to that humble place: I can choose another without knowing the final outcome, but allow for any possibility along the road of my life with my beloved. I can and will choose freely and in good faith.
That's enough energy to make me nervous for any groom.
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