I thought I had seen everything after twenty years of officiating weddings: grooms who were frightened, parents who were upset, and vows that made people laugh and cry. I had witnessed a lot of couples begin their lives together with joy and optimism.
But one afternoon, everything changed as they were in a calm chapel with flowers and family. I had seen a number of couples start their lives together with hope and joy. But one afternoon, in a chapel full with flowers and family, everything changed.
The bride stood in front of the groom, shaking her hands as she held a flawlessly folded piece of paper. She smiled pleasantly, but it wasn’t a large smile; it didn’t quite reach her eyes. I had a printed copy of her vows with me in case they were too scared.
I saw it in the middle of her vows. It was almost impossible to notice the three words scrawled gently between the printed lines unless you looked closely: “Help me.” Please help me.
The clock began to tick more slowly. I looked up from the page and saw her eyes. There was no doubt that she was serious. There were evidence of shaking, a weak smile, and a soft request for help hidden between the sentences about love and forever. My heart was racing, but my voice stayed steady.
I stopped when it was time to ask the room the usual question: “If anyone has a problem with this marriage, now is the time to say so.” I took a big breath and said, “Yes.”
The people in the pews gasped. The groom’s face turned bright crimson, and his eyes showed that he was upset and confused. People were surprised when they saw me. But I only looked at her, not anyone else.
I asked in a quiet voice, “Do you want to go?”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, and her eyes were full of sadness as she nodded.
I stepped closer to her and put my arm around her. We walked down the aisle together, but we weren’t married yet. In fact, we were two people who were getting rid of a story that didn’t belong there. The doors slammed shut behind us with a sound that was eerily like freedom.
In a quiet place away from the noise, she told me everything. The marriage was set up. For years, her fiancé had been in charge of her. He told her what to wear, who to see, and even how to talk. He also barred her from seeing her friends and looked at her phone. She could only ask for aid in a place where no one would expect it by putting that message in her vows.
She was quite bold. So very brave.
I put her in touch with a nearby women’s shelter that helped her find safety right away and get the items she needed to start again. She went away from the public eye for a while to get back pieces of her life that had been snatched from her one by one.
The church got a package a few weeks later. There were white lilies and a letter that stated, “Thank you for being there for me when no one else would.”
I put that message in the drawer of my desk.
That day reminded me that not all weddings are fun. It’s like a stage sometimes, a last chance to see someone before they go off to a life they never wanted. But if you’re lucky and pay attention, you can help change how it ends.
The bride didn’t walk down the aisle to start a new life with a different person. She left to start her new life. That was the strongest promise I’ve ever heard, much stronger than a vow.
