The view is worth the climb

I spent some time thinking about my wedding yesterday and how I want to gather young brides

together and say, listen. I get the Holiday on Ice thing you're planning. I understand Modern Bride and The Knot are giving you an outline of the blessed event you think you want and need. I know you will agonize about alstromeria vs. freesia, pork vs. chicken, chiffon vs. taffeta, veil vs. headband, Chicken Dance vs. Celebration. You will register for stuff like an ice bucket and an egg slicer. You will buy $150 shoes you will never wear again and no one will see under your dress and will have you crying in pain by the time you hit the aisle. You will get in a fight with your fiance because he will want to watch the ball game on the night you set aside to wrap the personalized flasks you bought for his groomsmen. You will have a hairstyle trial run - possibly two (seriously). You will feel like you and your nearest and dearest need a "spa day" so your feet are appropriately pumiced and your skin is suitably buffed and moisturized for the Big Day. You will lie awake wondering if a bunch of your invitations got lost in the mail or if people just can't be troubled to RSVP anymore. You will yell at your mom and cry over things like place settings and invitations and whether your godmother or your neighbor or you mom's best friend should be chosen to cut your cake and does she have a corsage. (For the record, she doesn't need a corsage, but she will need a few stiff drinks. Cake cutting is a crappy job, and corsages, like baked chips, are one of the world's worst inventions.)

Everyone who wants that experience should have it. I get that. 

But I want to gather those brides (and grooms) and explain that after the confetti is swept up and the dress is boxed away and you end up selling the ice bucket and egg slicer at your neighbor's garage sale, you spend the next decade getting to know yourself and this person you tethered yourself to. In many cases, kids enter the picture and the kaleidoscope turns and the picture changes.

There are amazing highs and unspeakable lows. Sometimes, you wake up wondering what happened to you and how life has gotten you to this place. Sometimes, you ask yourself if you can take much more of what life is dishing out to you. Sometimes, you call your dearest friend and say I need to see you because I don't know myself anymore and I need you to remind me. 

Sometimes, things don't work out. 

You keep going. You dust yourself off and you draw strength from the people who love you and you find ways to keep joy and laughter at the center of your life. 

You hit your fourth decade and things start making a lot more sense. You quit agonizing over the stuff you can't control and start rolling with it. You worry every now and again about the extra 15 pounds that have settled in your midsection, but you buy stretchy pants and get on with life. Your faith is deeper and your direction clearer. You think about your 20-something self and smile, because you recognize yourself in her, but now, you know yourself a lot better.

All of these things went through my head at the wedding of my dearest friend, who has taught me everything about how, when you find yourself in one of life's valleys, you tighten the laces on your hiking boots, keep your eyes on the sky, and keep climbing.

We gathered in their backyard on a perfect July day, surrounded by their family and closest friends. There was no hair and makeup artist, no caterer, no DJ, no baby's breath, no seating chart, no cake to cut. Just joy.

Their collective six children laid their hands on them and blessed them as they all committed to each other as a new family. They spoke of faith, hope, forgiveness and joy. And they promised that when the inevitable valleys of life came, they would keep climbing.

At its core, that's what building a life together is all about. It's easy to get caught up in the Other Stuff, because the Other Stuff is so prevalent, and outside forces do such a good job making us feel like the Other Stuff is important. It isn't.

Wedding registries should have a space for hiking boots, with instructions to keep climbing.

The view is well worth the effort.