Certain.

“Due to the global pandemic, we have made the painful decision to postpone our wedding until further notice.”

As I typed out those words in an email to my guests two weeks before my wedding, I placed my head on the keyboard and let out a guttural howl. Like so many brides in 2020, I made the difficult decision to postpone my carefully curated Pinterest wedding to an unknown future. And I felt so selfish. How could I cry about canceled plans when so many were dying.

“You’re allowed to be sad,” I whispered bravely to my bruised heart. Another dose of positivity was shoved down my throat before I could take a shallow breath again.

“Things aren’t so bad! Just try to look on the bright side, said well-meaning people gifted with a surplus of serotonin.

So I tied up my sad little heart in a rigid rope of Positivity, because my negativity was a creeping, contagious cloud contaminating all around me. I grasped at it to keep it all locked inside my broken ribs, but it was a cloudy vapor, not tangible beast, so it floated away between my bones.

The Positivity rope strained under the weight of grief?

Melancholy?

Frustration?

Depression?

I was sad because the buds of Spring were blooming with life, congratulating me on surviving another winter with SAD (seasonal affective disorder).

I was sad for all the people who thought they were invincible before their life was tragically cut short.

I was sad for the people not able to clutch their loved one’s hand as they take their last breath.

I was sad for all the medical professionals not able to see their babies grow because they are warriors in our strange world, valiantly fighting an invisible monster.

I was sad for all the parents bringing children into this strange world without their tribes celebrating their new life.

I was sad because I should be anticipating my upcoming wedding scheduled for next month with excitement, but I wasn’t.

“What now? What will happen? When will this end?” The questions toppled over me like stones in a river on my bruised heart. All the questions had the same answer: “I don’t know.” I felt like I was grieving. I felt so guilty and selfish for grieving because we had to postpone our wedding when there were people dying. How could we celebrate two lives joining together when so many lives are falling apart? The luxury of being excited about our wedding was stolen because we were in a Perpetual State of Pause.

As the world grew silent, we waited patiently. This state of pause was uncomfortable and strange. But the slowness caused me to stop and notice. I noticed my trust in him protecting me growing deeper, like tangled roots anchoring a tree steadfast to the ground. I saw my respect for him flourishing as he everyday showed me how much he loved me. In the midst of turmoil and pain, we found a stronger kind of love. Our plans may not have been what I originally hoped for, but it was a quiet, unassuming beauty. We pledged our love and our lives to each other on the mountain with just our parents amidst an uncertain world. Because one thing was certain: him. He has always been my rock and my loyal friend. I would never want to plan a wedding in the middle of a pandemic with anyone else.

Now we’ve been married almost a year. The tender pedals of the world are slowly opening up again to reveal a beautiful rose of life. I am stepping out on the solid ground, out of my Perpetual State of Pause. I’m slowly beginning to remember how to dance again to the rhythm of daily schedules and appointments. Despite everything, my husband is still here, by my side, picking up the pieces of where this uncertain storm shipwrecked us on the island of uncertainty. So take hope, dear heart, be brave and resilient. Hold fast and strong to one another, because our love is the only thing that is certain.