The Beauty of Ordinary Days

What 49 years of love taught me about marriage.

Today is July 2nd. For most people, it's simply another day on the calendar. The 183rd day, and half-way through the year. For me, it's different. It would've been my parents' 43rd wedding anniversary. They would’ve been together for 49 years today as well.

Naturally, I miss him. There isn't a day that goes by where I don't wish I could call him, ask his advice, or simply hear one of his ridiculous jokes or impressions again. But when July 2nd comes around each year, I find myself thinking less about the loss and more about the life they built together. Anniversaries don't tell the whole story. They simply remind us that thousands of ordinary days came before them.

When I think about my parents, I don't picture an anniversary dinner or a formal wedding portrait. I picture a photograph taken on the deck of our shore house in Sea Isle City. My dad is standing there impossibly tan, wearing that unmistakable goofy grin that somehow made everyone around him smile. He has a drink in his hand and doesn't seem to have a care in the world. Next to him is my mom - barefoot after a long day on the beach, sand still clinging to her feet, her hair carrying just enough salt from the ocean breeze. Together they're soaking in the final warmth of the sun before it disappears behind the bay.

Nothing extraordinary was happening.

And that's exactly why I love that picture. It wasn't staged, a milestone or an anniversary (although it could’ve been). But it was simply another ordinary evening spent together. Looking back, I think that's what a great marriage actually looks like.

As a wedding officiant, I'm fortunate enough to witness one of the biggest days in a couple's life…The excitement is contagious. Months, sometimes years of planning all lead to one unforgettable day. The flowers are perfect, the attire is pressed, the music is timed down to the second. Every detail has been carefully considered. And it should be, your wedding deserves that kind of care.

But I've come to realize that while weddings are built around one extraordinary day, extraordinary marriages are built around thousands of wonderfully ordinary ones and the quiet moments sitting beside each other without feeling the need to fill the silence. Those moments don't usually make the photo album. Yet somehow, they're the ones that build a lifetime.

If you asked me what made my parents' marriage work, I'd probably give you two different answers.

My dad would've told you it was humor and hard work - He wasn't afraid to be himself. In fact, he almost made it a point to be. He made my mom laugh because he genuinely enjoyed making her laugh. He never hesitated to wrap his arms around her or let everyone know exactly how much he adored her.

My mom would probably tell you it was communication, understanding, and knowing when to give each other space. She understood that love isn't about constantly demanding someone's attention. Sometimes it's about recognizing what they need before they have to ask for it.

Somewhere between those two perspectives, they found their rhythm. It wasn't perfect. It was practiced.

As kids, we have a funny way of believing our parents have everything figured out. As adults, we realize they were simply figuring it out together. Looking back now, I know my parents carried burdens I'll probably never fully understand. There were challenges, losses, worries, moments that tested them in ways my brother, sister and I never saw.

What stands out to me now isn't that those hardships existed. It's that they never allowed those hardships to become ours.

They protected our home. They carried more than they let on. At the time, I thought life was simply easier than everyone made it sound. Now I realize it wasn't. They just chose, every single day, to make sure their family felt loved before they felt the weight of everything else.

That's a lesson I've carried into my own marriage.

Rachel and I have learned that life doesn't always slow down just because you want it to. Different work schedules. Raising two boys. Responsibilities that seem to multiply overnight. It's easy to become really good teammates. But every now and then, we have to remind ourselves to stop being teammates for a moment and become the couple we originally set out to be. Because someday, when our kids tell stories about us, I hope they don't just remember the things we did. I hope they remember how we loved each other while we were doing them.

Now, people often ask me what makes a memorable wedding ceremony. The answer isn't found in a script. It's found in the marriage that follows it. A ceremony is simply the first chapter. The real story is written over thousands of ordinary mornings, quiet evenings, spontaneous road trips, shared sunsets, difficult conversations, forgiven mistakes, and countless moments that never receive applause.

Those are the moments that become forty-nine years.

Today, I'll celebrate my parents' anniversary because their story continues. It lives on in mom, in our family, in every lesson they taught me without ever realizing they were teaching it, and it lives on every time I stand in front of a couple and remind them that the promises they're making aren't about creating a perfect marriage… They're about creating a lasting one.

If there's one hope I have for every couple I have the privilege of marrying, it's this:

Don't spend your marriage searching for the perfect partner. Spend it becoming one.

Forever isn't built on anniversaries. It's built on ordinary days. If you're fortunate enough to have enough of those ordinary days together, one day you'll look back and realize they were extraordinary all along.

Happy Anniversary, Mom & Dad

Thank you for showing me what forever really looks like.

It’s Wedding Season… Here’s What Actually Matters About Your Vendors (And You)

It’s that time of year again. The weather breaks, the calendars fill up, and suddenly every weekend feels like it belongs to someone else’s wedding. If you’re in the middle of planning your own—or getting close to your big day—you’re probably hearing the same thing over and over: “Make sure you have good vendors.” And while that’s true, it’s also incomplete. Because by the time you’re reading this, chances are you already do. You’ve done the research, had the conversations, checked the reviews, and made the decisions. You’ve built your team. What matters now isn’t who you hired—it’s how everything comes together.

The biggest shift I try to make for couples is this: you didn’t just hire vendors, you built a team. Your photographer isn’t just there to take pictures—they’re capturing moments you won’t even realize are happening. Your DJ isn’t just playing music—they’re controlling the energy of the entire room. Your planner or coordinator is managing a hundred moving parts behind the scenes so you never feel a single one. And then there’s the ceremony—the moment where everything slows down, everyone leans in, and your wedding actually begins. That moment doesn’t just happen on its own. It’s guided.

I’m not just there to check a legal box and step aside. The officiant is the first voice your guests hear, the one who sets the tone, controls the pacing, and brings everyone into the moment together. A great ceremony creates buy-in. It makes your guests feel connected, invested, and present. It turns a crowd into a room full of people who genuinely care about what’s happening in front of them. That’s the difference between a ceremony people politely sit through and one they talk about long after the day is over—the kind where people walk away saying, “That felt like it was so them.”

Here’s the part most couples don’t realize: the best vendors you hire don’t need to be managed. They don’t need to be micromanaged, double-checked every five minutes, or constantly redirected. In fact, the more space you give great vendors to do what they do best, the better your day becomes. They’re not guessing—they’ve done this before. They know how to read a room, adjust in real time, handle the unexpected, and keep things moving without you ever noticing. Communication still matters, of course, but the goal isn’t perfection—it’s clarity. Clear expectations, clear timing, and a shared understanding of what matters most to you.

But let’s shift perspective for a second, because here’s what actually matters most—and it’s not the timeline, the playlist, or whether every detail goes exactly as planned.

It’s you.

At the end of all of this, the reason any of it works—the reason the ceremony hits, the reason the room feels the way it does, the reason your guests are leaning in instead of looking around—is because of the two of you standing at the center of it. Your story, your dynamic, your personalities, your energy. That’s what everything is built around. The vendors you’ve chosen aren’t there to take over your day—they’re there to support it, shape it, and bring out the best version of it.

And when the day finally arrives, your role shifts completely. You’re no longer the planner, the coordinator, or the one making sure everything is running on time. Your only job is to be present. To take it in, to feel it, and to experience the moment you’ve been building toward. When the right people are in the right roles, you don’t have to carry any of it—you just have to live in it.

Wedding season moves fast. The days fill up, the details stack, and before you know it, you’re standing at the front of it all, about to step into one of the biggest moments of your life. Trust the team you built, trust the process, and most importantly, trust yourselves. Because when everything else fades into the background, what actually matters… is you.

Take the Trip. Take the Time. Take a Breath.

As I’ve mentioned before, Rachel and I have terrible timing. Whenever we plan something, life seems to step in and say, “Not so fast.” Tragedies, financial curveballs, work conflicts, a full-blown pandemic—you name it. Even as I write this, I’m watching my two sons wrestle on the trampoline, half-expecting one of them to break an arm and derail our next big move: Rachel and I’s first real trip together in six years.

When we first started dating—right before the world shut down—we had big plans to travel and experience life together. To be fair, we’ve still found ways to do that. We took a masked-up trip to the Finger Lakes and Cooperstown, traveled to Mexico just before Kaven made his entrance into the world, and have had our fair share of family vacations and destination weddings. We’ve been fortunate to make memories in a lot of places.

But here’s the truth—most of those trips weren’t really breaks.

When you’re parenting, you’re still parenting… just somewhere else. When you’re working, you’re still working… just with a nicer view. Even the best family vacations can feel like a shift in location more than a true reset.

That said, we’ve learned how to take what we can get. Porch nights after the kids go to bed. A quiet drive through the fall foliage in Vermont. Horseback riding in Tennessee squeezed between a rehearsal and a wedding. Small moments that give you just enough space to breathe.

But now, it’s our turn.

We’re taking six days away—no kids, no obligations, no real agenda. Just a cruise, hopefully some warm weather, a couple of drinks, and a good book or two. A true reset.

And that’s why I’m sharing this with you.

After your wedding day, you need that same kind of time. Whether it’s a full honeymoon somewhere far away, a long weekend getaway, or even just a few intentional days at home, it matters more than most people realize. You’ve just spent months—maybe years—planning one of the biggest days of your life. You’ve managed logistics, vendors, family expectations, and a thousand moving parts. And then, just like that, it’s over.

Life doesn’t slow down after your wedding. If anything, it picks right back up. Work, routines, responsibilities—it all comes rushing back in.

So take the trip. Take the time. Take a breath. Give yourselves the space to actually feel married. To sit in it, enjoy it, and experience that shift together before life settles back into its normal rhythm.

And don’t let that be a one-time thing.

Make it a point to take time for each other regularly—real, intentional time. Date nights, even if it’s just once or twice a month (yes, I’m looking at you, future and current parents). Go to a baseball game, hit your favorite lunch spot, grab tickets to a concert, or just get out and do the things you used to do when everything felt a little simpler. Those moments matter more than you think, and they’re a big part of what keeps everything else strong.

And when it comes to everything else, don’t worry—I’ve got it covered. I’ll take care of the legal side of things and make sure everything is properly handled and filed, so you can focus on what actually matters: starting your marriage the right way.

Lucky in Love… or Just Really Intentional?

March has a funny way of making us think about luck. Shamrocks show up everywhere, people start ordering Guinness like it’s a personality trait, and suddenly every couple is being told, “You two are so lucky you found each other.”

I hear it all the time at weddings.

And listen — I love the holiday. Rachel and I actually got engaged on St. Patrick’s Day. We leaned into it fully. We love the day, we love the energy, and yes, we love a good Guinness, We’ve been known to enjoy a Dublin Drop like we’re back in our twenties with zero responsibilities and questionable decision-making skills. It’s one of those holidays that feels celebratory by default.

But here’s the honest part: if there were an award for “worst planning luck imaginable,” Rachel and I would at least make the podium. Weather rarely cooperates. Schedules shift constantly. The most meaningful ideas we come up with usually require twice the logistics and half the convenience. Planning has never exactly gone smoothly for us.

And yet, none of that has defined our marriage.

So were we lucky to find each other? Absolutely. I’ll take that compliment every time.

But luck didn’t build our relationship. Choosing each other did.

There’s a real difference between saying, “We got lucky,” and saying, “We keep choosing each other.” Luck is passive. It’s something that happens to you. Choosing is active. It requires intention, effort, patience, and a willingness to show up even when it would be easier not to.

That difference is exactly why weddings feel magical.

From the outside, a ceremony can look like this beautiful, emotional swirl of music, vows, laughter, and tears. It feels effortless. It feels like something just “clicked.” But magic at a wedding is rarely random. It’s built.

It’s built in the conversations where couples decide what parts of their story actually matter. It’s built when they choose honesty over perfection. It’s built when they allow their personalities — not trends — to shape the ceremony. The moments that move a room aren’t accidental. They’re intentional.

That’s why the ceremony becomes such a powerful experience for everyone present. It’s the one part of the day where guests aren’t just watching something happen — they’re feeling the weight of two people publicly choosing each other. When someone comes up afterward and says, “That ceremony was so them,” they aren’t describing luck. They’re responding to alignment. They’re feeling the intention behind every word.

Even the emotional highs and lows of a ceremony — the laughter, the pause before a vow, the quiet tears, the collective cheer at the kiss — are designed to tell a story. A good ceremony doesn’t just list facts about a couple. It brings people through the journey. It allows joy and depth to coexist. It reflects the reality that love isn’t one steady note; it’s dynamic, layered, and alive.

Rachel and I may joke about our terrible luck when it comes to planning, but the one thing that has never been left to chance is our commitment to choosing each other. Every day. Not just on a holiday that celebrates luck. Not just on the day we got engaged. Not just on the wedding day.

So this March, if someone tells you you’re lucky to have found each other, smile and embrace it. Celebrate it. Raise the Guinness if you’d like.

But remember this: luck might have introduced you. Commitment is what will sustain you. And when your ceremony day arrives, the magic won’t come from coincidence. It will come from two people standing in front of everyone they love and intentionally saying, “I choose you.”

That’s not luck.

That’s love, built on purpose.

Sláinte — and may the road rise up to meet you.