Single Mormon Twentysomething ties the knot

After an excruciating 15 minutes, one of the temple matrons who had been helping my bride approached me and whispered, \"Congratulations on your marriage.  I guess now you’ll have to find a new name for your column.\"

And so here I am, writing to you for the first time since I’ve officially shed the \"single, Mormon twentysomething\" label and become a \"newlywed.\" 

My new column has yet to be named, but as far as content goes, don't expect too drastic a change: I'll still be providing observations on life, relationships, politics and religion.  The only that will change, I suspect, is my personal worldview.

Anyway, less than a week later, the wedding day is already blurred in my memory. 

I remember windblown people cheering as we walked out the temple doors.  I remember rushed photos being taken as the line of rain crept down the mountainside, threatening to soak the wedding party. Our bridesmaids, groomsmen and guests managed to escape before the rain arrived, but not me and Annie.  We were stuck outside with our very determined photographer, taking about a hundred \"one more shot(s).\" 

By the time we got to the reception, the once-mild rainstorm had turned into a downpour.  Rather than moving the event indoors, our parents had mobilized a handful of ultra-helpful guests and transformed the rented tent into a well-heated, well-lit sanctuaty.

Sure, several of the guests had towels draped over their shoulders, and yeah, my dad was wearing a Red Sox cap that clashed with his suit in order to cover his disheveled hair, but we weren’t complaining.  In my deliriously happy and exhausted state, the only thought that could register was, \"I bet this will make for a good story some day.\"

Some reminded us that rain on a wedding day is good luck.  Others offered the consolation that soon we would be honeymooning in sunny southern California.  But my favorite reaction to the rain came from a man in my parents' ward.

\"I guess the rain is appropriate,\" he said.  \"After all, this is the funeral of your single life.\"