My husband and I went to a wedding this weekend. We got to see some family we hadn’t seen in a while, catch up a little. It was a lovely venue and honestly miraculous weather. Seventy degrees and sunny squeezed in between days in the forties on one side and snow showers on the other. Must have been pure young love bringing the luck.

The groom’s grandfather did the service. He did a lovely job. There was one part of a prayer where he prayed something to the effect of having the couple know the seriousness of the institution they were entering into. “No,” I thought, “my goodness, no. The seriousness is the absolute last thing they need to know!”

Those parts are going to come. The jobs and job losses. The what’s for dinner every night and the laundry day after day and the bank balance that may not be where you’d hoped. The cute quirks turned annoyances, and the slightly annoying habits turned rage-inducing. The sickness and tiredness and the sick and tired of it all-ness. The day after day after day after day.

They don’t need to know that. They wouldn’t understand; here with their fresh, shiny, new marriage. They might want to skip those parts. They wouldn’t understand that you can’t miss those parts without missing the joy. They wouldn’t understand that the bitter parts make the sweet parts sweeter.

Here’s what I’d like for the young couple to know.

I’d like for them to know the joy of the institution they’ve entered into.

I’d like for them to know the joy of Saturdays when you wake up with a million things to do, but someone’s there to help you. And the joy of Saturdays when you wake up with nothing to do, and someone’s there to help with that, too.

I’d like for them to know the joy of a family vacation where a child’s excitement feels like magic, and your spouse’s excitement for them makes your heart ache.

I’d like for them to know the joy of paying off that bill, or affording that repair, or just sighing with each other over the “someday” things.

I’d like for them to know the joy of inside jokes that have gone on for years.  

I’d like for them to know the joy of just being with someone. Just being. Because after a certain number of years, there’s no longer any room for pretense.

I’d like for them to know that all of those joys take effort and commitment and time, but they’re worth every bit of it.

Of course, truly knowing any of those things isn’t really possible at the beginning of the journey. They can’t understand the seriousness; they can’t understand the hard-won joy. They’re young and excited, and there’s only now and happily ever after.

So, I hope they know at least this. Whenever it’s possible, choose the joy.