A reader wondered about how to be both officiant and Mother of the bride. What a great question!
 
My father was a Humanist minister and he taught me how to officiate at weddings. When I was ready to commit to Mark, a second marriage for us both, we asked Dad to officiate. We married in October, in a beautiful waterside restaurant, and then sat down with our 70 guests for dinner.

Most people knew that Dad was a wedding officiant, so it wasn’t surprising to the guests. Since he was already up at the ‘altar’ area, I walked down the aisle unaccompanied. That suited us both well.

I still have the ceremony he wrote for us in a red folder. When I reviewed it for this post, I was reminded that Dad had his private opinions about the existence of an Almighty, but because Mark and I requested a way to bring our faith to the forefront, he wove in phrases such as “With God ever present,” and “God, bless these rings,” etc. He wore a black judge’s robe during the ceremony and the removed it and became a dinner guest, and father of the bride, afterward.

What about when it is your first time officiating at a wedding, and you are a parent as well? I think it’s important to make it clear to the guests that your role of parent is different from your role as officiant. Here are some things to consider:

• The officiant is often the first one at the altar, so that will be a strong first signal to the guests that you are playing an unusual role. A parent might have to give up the idea of accompanying her/his child down the aisle, but it doesn’t always have to be that way. What does your couple want?
• As you write your homily, avoid adding stories about when your child was young. You are here to direct their future, not to reminisce (you can do that later, over dinner).
• Avoid ad-lib jokes or opinions during the process of interviewing your couple, and during the ceremony itself. The couple is looking to you to be their anchor in a very overwhelming time. On the other hand, feel free to beam at them with love.
• Try not to weep during the ceremony. The best way to do this is to rehearse your lines in front of the mirror, pretty much once a day until you feel ready. It doesn’t hurt to tuck a hankie in your pocket, though.
• It would be very helpful for you to don a robe or a special jacket or even some kind of stole during the ceremony, so that it is clear that you have stepped out from your usual role. When you recess back up the aisle, go find a minute alone to collect yourself and breathe. You did it! Then remove that clothing item before you rejoin the party.
• Remember to sign the license and get it witnessed!
• A special word about rehearsal. It will be so very helpful during rehearsal if you can get Someone Else to orchestrate the practice processional and recessional, and line up the unruly and giggling wedding party. Let that Someone Else run around and holler, but not you. Once everyone is in line you can step in as the Officiant Authority, explain how the ceremony will go, and step away with poise and dignity intact. There, you have succeeded already as both parent and officiant.

Feel free to comment below as any questions arise. And I hope you will take a moment, actually several moments, to feel very proud. If your child has asked you to officiate at their wedding, your relationship must be pretty special.

The brides arrived at my house late in the afternoon, having picked up their Santa Clara county marriage license the day before. They were already weary after a long, hard drive from Oregon.

We sat at my kitchen table with bottles of cold water. My daughter sat with us. We scrutinized the marriage license, which was in order.

I cleared my throat. “Do you, D, take M to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“And do you, M, take D to be your lawfully wedded wife?”

“I do.”

“Then, by the power vested in me by the State of California, I now pronounce you to be a legally married couple.”

We cheered and my daughter signed the certificate as a witness. I made copies and slipped the original license into its envelope.

Then we had dinner.

Before you call this wedding completely prosaic and boring, let me continue: I had been with these women six days before, at a late morning wedding under a lace canopy in one of Portland’s botanical gardens. As four closest friends held the poles of the chuppah steady, the brides washed their hands in clear water and fed each other tastes of honey. A framed and witnessed ketubah, a visual reminder of their vows to one another, stood on an easel nearby. The ceremony lasted twenty minutes, and guests beamed with joy and even wept. Vows and rings were exchanged, and that day I said, “By exchanging your private affirmations, you have pronounced yourselves to be married.”

But that wedding is not yet legal in Oregon.

Later, the mother of one of the brides remarked on the fragile hydrangea blossoms that shone like bits of lace among the dark green bushes surrounding our ceremony. There had been no sign of blooms the day before.