When my groom and I selected our wedding date—October 1—our caterer remarked, “That day is always the best weather of the entire year.” We didn’t exactly think the man was clairvoyant, but we were all too willing to believe him—especially since we were having a (somewhat) outdoor reception.

My now-husband, Patrick, had proposed less than five months earlier, in May. We’d been together for a year and a half, and I’d been waiting for him to pop the question. When he finally did, I wasn’t interested in planning some huge soiree that would take the next two years to coordinate; I just wanted to be his wife.

Miraculously, Patrick and I managed to find the perfect venue for our taste, and it was available for a date that autumn (Crossing Vineyard & Winery, in Newtown, PA). When it turned out that the church I’d grown up in also had October 1 free, that was it for us—we couldn’t put down the deposit fast enough!

Flash forward five months to that long-anticipated date, and I woke up with malevolent butterflies in my stomach that antagonized me throughout the morning. I’d never been so nervous for anything! Adding to my anxiety was the overcast sky, clearly pregnant with the weight of an impending storm. We’d been watching the forecast all week, and knew we were bound to get some rain from the hurricane that had struck Florida a few days earlier. The question was: would the day be a total washout?

I proceeded to get ready for the day, attempting to assuage my weather-driven anxieties with the no-nonsense philosophy of what will be, will be. Fortunately, the logistics of the rest of the morning ran like clockwork: my gorgeous Augusta Jones gown arrived first, delivered personally by Nicole Bridal after adding some finishing touches that had required overnight attention. Next, the florals were delivered, all perfectly organized and awaiting pinning. Nevertheless, by the time the photographer arrived—punctual and well-prepared—the first few droplets had begun to fall from the sky, and all I could think was: How am I going to protect my dress? Am I going to walk into the church with a sopping-wet, cathedral-length veil?!

It’s funny how things have a tendency to work out. While it was cold and a bit damp as I proceeded from the house to the limo, my veil and gown were both safe from any torrential rain prior to the ceremony. When I arrived at the church, I took the elevator to the upper chapel, where my maid of honor—my best friend, and Patrick’s sister—greeted me as I stepped out. “I wasn’t prepared for this,” she said tearfully, moving in for a hug.

When the organ began to play, and my father and I began the slow walk down the aisle to my future, all I could think was how happy (and handsome) Patrick looked. I’d never seen him smile quite like this before as he wrapped his arm around me and whispered, “I’m right here. I’m your rock all day.” My nerves must’ve been palpable even at that point!

It was a beautiful ceremony filled with spiritual peace, and the kind of love I’d always imagined I’d feel on my wedding day ever since I was a little girl. These feelings carried over to our reception, by which time it had begun steadily raining…but I no longer cared. Our tent was absolutely beautiful, and my new husband held an umbrella for me as we entered to wild applause from all of our friends and loved ones.

Sometimes, rain on your wedding day isn’t ironic—it merely points to the fact that, even in the difficult and unavoidable weather of life, the person who stands beside you holding the umbrella truly makes all the difference.

When my groom and I selected our wedding date—October 1—our caterer remarked, “That day is always the best weather of the entire year.” We didn’t exactly think the man was clairvoyant, but we were all too willing to believe him—especially since we were having a (somewhat) outdoor reception.

My now-husband, Patrick, had proposed less than five months earlier, in May. We’d been together for a year and a half, and I’d been waiting for him to pop the question. When he finally did, I wasn’t interested in planning some huge soiree that would take the next two years to coordinate; I just wanted to be his wife.

Miraculously, Patrick and I managed to find the perfect venue for our taste, and it was available for a date that autumn (Crossing Vineyard & Winery, in Newtown, PA). When it turned out that the church I’d grown up in also had October 1 free, that was it for us—we couldn’t put down the deposit fast enough!

Flash forward five months to that long-anticipated date, and I woke up with malevolent butterflies in my stomach that antagonized me throughout the morning. I’d never been so nervous for anything! Adding to my anxiety was the overcast sky, clearly pregnant with the weight of an impending storm. We’d been watching the forecast all week, and knew we were bound to get some rain from the hurricane that had struck Florida a few days earlier. The question was: would the day be a total washout?

I proceeded to get ready for the day, attempting to assuage my weather-driven anxieties with the no-nonsense philosophy of what will be, will be. Fortunately, the logistics of the rest of the morning ran like clockwork: my gorgeous Augusta Jones gown arrived first, delivered personally by Nicole Bridal after adding some finishing touches that had required overnight attention. Next, the florals were delivered, all perfectly organized and awaiting pinning. Nevertheless, by the time the photographer arrived—punctual and well-prepared—the first few droplets had begun to fall from the sky, and all I could think was: How am I going to protect my dress? Am I going to walk into the church with a sopping-wet, cathedral-length veil?!

It’s funny how things have a tendency to work out. While it was cold and a bit damp as I proceeded from the house to the limo, my veil and gown were both safe from any torrential rain prior to the ceremony. When I arrived at the church, I took the elevator to the upper chapel, where my maid of honor—my best friend, and Patrick’s sister—greeted me as I stepped out. “I wasn’t prepared for this,” she said tearfully, moving in for a hug.

When the organ began to play, and my father and I began the slow walk down the aisle to my future, all I could think was how happy (and handsome) Patrick looked. I’d never seen him smile quite like this before as he wrapped his arm around me and whispered, “I’m right here. I’m your rock all day.” My nerves must’ve been palpable even at that point!

It was a beautiful ceremony filled with spiritual peace, and the kind of love I’d always imagined I’d feel on my wedding day ever since I was a little girl. These feelings carried over to our reception, by which time it had begun steadily raining…but I no longer cared. Our tent was absolutely beautiful, and my new husband held an umbrella for me as we entered to wild applause from all of our friends and loved ones.

Sometimes, rain on your wedding day isn’t ironic—it merely points to the fact that, even in the difficult and unavoidable weather of life, the person who stands beside you holding the umbrella truly makes all the difference.