I was in the most wonderful wedding this weekend. Liz and Chalupa got married, and although at times it felt as if it all happened very quickly, I find myself wanting to say, "it's about time!" Probably because they were made for each other.

Practical Liz is so organized that for the bridesmaids, at least, the wedding day wasn't stressful. I hope the same can be said for her.

There were a few times I was really nervous, however, throughout the event on Saturday.

#1) As I stepped up to the microphone to read the Middle English poem that Liz had picked out years ago for this very day, in order to keep my hands from shaking while holding the paper on which the poem was written (with my pronunciation hints), I ended up directing all the nervous energy to my legs. It felt as if my entire body, except my hands, was shaking. I was sure it was obvious from the audience, so I kept my eyes glued to the sheet of paper I was clutching.

#2) When I heard the cds that Liz had picked out for the reception were MIA, I realized that the music a typical DJ would play at a wedding would be completely inappropriate for this wedding. And when Michael W. Smith came on...I knew something was wrong. Five minutes later when Celine Dion blasted from the speakers, I almost passed out. Not because I was overjoyed. Not because I was disgusted. But because, despite my affinity for her, I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that Celine is the last musician on earth that Liz would want to hear on her wedding day. Luckily, before any more CCM treasures made it to the playlist, the DJ found her cds. All was well after that.

#3) While I enjoyed immensely catching up with some of my favorite people in the world, I was shocked to discover that some strangers wanted to converse with me. One in particular must have made a bet with his friends, something like "I bet you won't go talk to her"...followed by a shaking of hands. I say this because he sat down introduced himself and said, "So, you speak Middle English...there, I broke the ice." I was nervous at that point, because I realized what it was. And the next few words out of his mouth, "I've been meaning to come talk to you all night," cemented my need for nervousness. Bless his heart, he tried. He must have talked for nearly an hour. His friends on the dance floor were laughing at him the whole time. He covered every base - every topic he could muster. But it all came down to his parting comment: "Here's my proposal for you."

At that point, friends, I stopped him and asked that he never use that word in my presence again. "I hate that word," I said, completely deadpan. After asking for the story behind this detestation, I was saved from having to hear his "proposal" or "non-proposal," as he tried to revise it after hearing my story. I got up to say goodbye to my good friends and from that point I every so slowly, but deliberately moved away from this man. He made me anxious. (not in that cute "he makes me nervous" sort of way, either)

For a wedding weekend, I think being nervous only 3 times is pretty spectacular.

Congratulations, Liz and Chalupa!