Sometimes it’s a chance to celebrate the life you’ve already built.
There’s something rather lovely about the language we use around weddings. A new beginning. The start of your journey. The first chapter of married life. And for some couples, that’s exactly how it feels.
But for others? Well, they’ve been writing their story for years. Sometimes decades. They’ve bought houses, changed jobs, raised children, lost people they love, welcomed new people into their lives, survived difficult times, made spectacularly questionable decorating decisions and accumulated enough shared history to fill several books. They’ve built a life together.
And now they’re getting married. Not because everything is about to begin, but perhaps because they’d quite like to stop for a moment and recognise everything that’s already happened.
Look at this. Look what we’ve made.
I think there’s something quite powerful about gathering the people who’ve been part of your life and celebrating not only the relationship between two people, but the world that’s grown around them.
Because a love story doesn’t always exist neatly between two people. Sometimes it has children running through the middle of it. Friends who’ve been there since the beginning, or perhaps since long before the beginning. Parents, siblings, grandparents, neighbours, colleagues who’ve become friends, and friends who’ve become family. People who’ve celebrated your successes, helped you through difficult times, listened to your moaning, told you when you’re being ridiculous and turned up when you needed them. And, of course, the people who’ve contributed years of material for the family group chat.
They’re not necessarily the central characters in your relationship, but they’ve helped shape the life you’re celebrating. And I rather like the idea of acknowledging that.
Your family might not look like anyone else’s
Of course, when I talk about family, I’m not necessarily talking about the traditional picture.
Families come in all sorts of arrangements. There are blended families, chosen families, children from previous relationships, people who’ve stepped into parenting roles, friends who feel closer than relatives and relationships that don’t fit neatly into any particular description.
And sometimes family relationships are complicated. Not everyone has travelled the same road to arrive at your wedding. Not everyone has played the same part, and not every relationship needs to be celebrated in quite the same way. That’s worth recognising too.
A personal ceremony doesn’t have to pretend that everything has always been straightforward. Nor does it need to explore every difficult chapter in front of your guests. It’s about understanding what matters to you, who matters to you, and finding an appropriate way to acknowledge that.
Sometimes that’s a big, joyful moment involving everyone. Sometimes it’s a few carefully chosen words. And sometimes it’s knowing what doesn’t need to be said.
When children are part of the story
I’ve conducted weddings where the couple’s children have been very much at the heart of the celebration. And I love that.
Not because every wedding with children needs a special ritual or symbolic gesture, but because, for some couples, getting married is also an opportunity to acknowledge the family they’ve created together.
I’ve seen children take part in sand ceremonies, blending different colours into one vessel as a symbol of their family. It’s a lovely visual moment. But what matters to me isn’t the sand itself. It’s what the gesture means to the people involved. For one family, it might represent two households coming together. For another, it might be a way of recognising a family that’s already been together for years.
And there are all sorts of other ways to involve children, if that’s what feels right. They might help tie the knot during a handfasting, carry the rings around your guests for a ring warming, or pour the drinks for a celebratory toast at the end of the ceremony.
Or perhaps they’d prefer a starring role as ring bearer or petal scatterer. I’ve seen young ring bearers hurtling towards Mum and Dad with the rings, apparently determined to deliver them at considerable speed. And petal scatterers who were perfectly happy to scatter their petals, thank you very much, but only when they were good and ready. Because, as one rather emphatically made clear, “They’re MY petals!”
And I love those moments too. Because children don’t suddenly become miniature wedding professionals when the music starts. They’re still themselves. Excited, shy, distracted, fiercely independent, occasionally unpredictable and sometimes much more interested in the petals than the proceedings.
Of course, we can plan their involvement carefully, give them gentle guidance and make sure there’s a familiar grown-up nearby if they need one. But I don’t think we need to turn children into miniature performers to make them feel included. Sometimes it’s enough to give them a place in the story and let them occupy it in their own wonderful way.
The people who helped you get here
There’s another aspect of weddings that I find particularly moving. The people gathered around you often know different versions of your story.
Your oldest friend remembers who you were before you met. Your family might remember the early days, the uncertainty, the excitement, perhaps the occasional raised eyebrow. Your children know you as parents, which is a whole different perspective. And your friends might have witnessed years of adventures, disasters, laughter, disagreements and those little moments that gradually become family folklore.
No single person knows every chapter. But when they gather together, there’s something rather wonderful about all those different pieces of your life being in one place.
And, of course, there’s occasionally a cantankerous Grandad or a Great Auntie Gladys who considers the occasion an excellent opportunity to roll their eyes and announce, to anyone within earshot, that it’s about time somebody made an honest person of one of you. Every family has its characters. Some are wonderfully supportive. Some have a knack for saying precisely the wrong thing at precisely the wrong moment. And some manage to be both.
That doesn’t mean every family opinion needs a place in your ceremony, of course. But those personalities, histories and relationships are part of the wider world you’ve built your life within. And sometimes a little affectionate acknowledgement of that can make everyone feel wonderfully recognised.
I think a ceremony can acknowledge the people who’ve helped you get here without turning into a lengthy list of thank-yous. It might be through a story that everyone recognises. A few words about the community that’s grown around you. An invitation for guests to make a collective promise of support. Or simply a moment to look around and appreciate the people who’ve helped you become who you are.
Because they’re not merely an audience. They’re part of the reason this moment matters.
It doesn’t have to become a ceremony about everybody else
Now, I should probably make something clear. I’m not suggesting your wedding ceremony should become a tribute to every person who’s ever played a part in your lives. We’d be there until Christmas. And I imagine the venue would have something to say about that.
The couple remains at the centre of the ceremony. It’s their relationship, their promises and their decision to get married that have brought everyone together.
But recognising the wider story doesn’t diminish that. Quite the opposite. It can help us understand the relationship more fully. The life you’ve built together isn’t separate from your love story. It’s part of the evidence of it.
Not a beginning. A moment worth recognising.
I sometimes wonder whether we put too much emphasis on weddings as the start of something. As though everything before the ceremony has been leading up to the real beginning. But perhaps you’ve already been doing the difficult, ordinary, extraordinary work of sharing a life for years.
You’ve learned how to live together. How to disagree. How to support each other. How to navigate family life, changing circumstances and all the unexpected things that come with being human.
You’ve probably learned which one of you is incapable of replacing the toilet roll. And after years of living together, you may still be arguing about which way it should hang. Fringe or mullet? Apparently, some differences really are irreconcilable.
And you’ve chosen to keep building that life together.
Your wedding doesn’t have to pretend you’re standing at the beginning of an untouched story. It can recognise the chapters that have brought you here, the people who’ve been part of them and the ones still waiting to be written.
And perhaps, somewhere in the middle of all the laughter, promises and celebrations, there’ll be a moment when you look around at the people gathered with you and think: Look at this. Look what we’ve made.
I think that’s a rather lovely reason to have a wedding ceremony.