Can you imagine if every husband and wife vowed and delivered on the promise to “with my body I thee serve” and “of all my worldly goods, I thee endow…so long as we both shall live”? Every mini-society would be fused by iron bonds. Our macro society would be unassailably strong.

My daughter was married last month. Mothers fast-forward to this day when we find out we’re pregnant, on the day we give birth, when she plays dress up in our wedding gown, when shopping for prom, and, of course, when we see the ring on her finger.

But beyond the typical mother-of-the-bride speculation, I also do this for a living. As founder and president of Them Before Us, I’m up to my eyeballs in marriage stats. I have written about why marriage is a matter of justice for children, crafted a teen curriculum offering a modern-day apologetic for the institution, and regularly rattled off the risks of cohabitation. Marriage work is my everyday occupation.

And yet, even I was not prepared for the power of my firstborn’s wedding day: the beauty of a young bride and groom regaled in opposite yet complementary garb and framed by joyous attendants, the symbolic bridal handoff from father-in-law to son-in-law, my daughter’s choice to make her entrance (in my wedding gown) to the Nutcracker’s “Grand Pas de Deux,” and the prominent crosses drawing the eyes up toward the transcendent and relational God who has made the two, one. It was more than I could have asked for or imagined.

My husband, Ryan, and I both came from fractured families. Like most children of divorce, our wedding guest list was complicated. Who belonged in which family shot? Reception table assignments were so fraught we opted for open seating. My father attended with his second wife, who photographed nicely but who also promptly announced their divorce when we returned from our honeymoon. From the time we started dating through our now 26-year-old marriage, we resolved to simplify things for our kids.

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