Saving Yourself

In the world of Hollywood storytelling, you have sex and find out their last name later. And from a storytelling standpoint I can see the advantages of such a timeline—the rapid advance, followed by retreat, followed by the slow dawning that, Hey, I actually do love you! It makes for a sweet story. I’m guessing that few people pattern their lives after the choices of fictional characters, but still, we live in a world where sex isn’t something you wait to do until after you’re married. Of course, you can, because in this world we have been given strict instructions to tolerate everything, but it’s viewed as an oddball choice, a super religious choice, the choice of people who split wood all day (they’ve got to have an outlet for all that energy!)

  Recently I’ve had two daughters get married, both of which, despite not owning an ax and pile of logs, were virgins on their wedding day. Readying a daughter for marriage is a joyful experience. There are the showers, the dress hunting, the colors to choose, the venue to find. It is a dizzying, slightly expensive, whirlwind, one that any mother would cherish. But as the mother of two chaste brides I’d like to speak to the added layers of joy that particular experience brings. 

For a chaste bride, the decision to marry involves preparing herself to have sex for the first time. This means a visit to the gynecologist is in order, and as I’ve learned, nurses aren’t accustomed to hearing that an engaged girl is a virgin. Their eyes get as wide as a bird enthusiast’s upon spotting a nearly extinct species. It is quite humorous.

  In the Mormon world choosing to marry in the temple sends the message to friends and family that this couple has a large pile of wood for sale. I’m joking, but since an unmarried couple needs to be chaste to be married in the temple, those who are aware of this policy, know that the wedding night will be a night of discoveries, a night that is, as Queen Victoria put it, both “gratifying and bewildering.”

This reality brings forth a few snickers from the young, and from the older, whispered counsel, particularly to the bride’s mother. You’re sure she’s ready? Are you sure you’ve mentioned… It’s as if our fast-paced modern world gets distilled into a village, and that village on wedding day is on high alert! Look at their smiles! They’re so in love! We know what they’ll be doing later! Snicker, snicker.

Soon enough, this newly minted couple will be just another couple, but on their wedding night their love is celebrated, and when they leave their reception surrounded by the flickering fire of sparklers, they’ve got a green light.

The green light. Knowing this was coming, my girls asked me LOTS of questions, and I loved this part of readying them for marriage. These conversations took place while we jogged or walked or after shoving the little kids out of the room (Victoria and Rich fled of their own accord.) They needed to talk and they turned to me. I loved that. It was one of my favorite added layers of joy.

I love weddings. Though we try and spin funerals into a celebration, it doesn’t really work. Funerals are sad, plain and simple. They suck. We’re grieving, so if they are celebrations, they’re the worst kind. But weddings are the best. I love the hoopla, the clothing, the dancing, the photos. I love the love. And in my heart I have a special place for Stephen and Caroline’s wedding, and for Julia and Paul’s, not just because of their love, but because of the added layers of joy their choices allowed me to experience.