After two decades of officiating weddings, I thought I had seen everything, until I saw three faint words between a bride’s vows: “Help me.” I need help.”
Our eyes locked, and I knew she was serious because her grin was forced and her hands shook.
Asked whether anybody protested, I breathed and responded, “I do.” Surprised gasps flooded the room.
But I focused on her as the groom became scarlet with wrath. “Want to leave?” I asked gently.
Her tears fell as she said, “Yes.”
I led her from church. She told me behind closed doors that her fiancé controlled her phone, friendships, and independence since the marriage was planned. That call for aid in her vows was her final opportunity to escape.
She sought refuge and rebuilt her life with women’s shelter help.
Weeks later, the church received a bouquet of white flowers with a note: “Thank you for seeing me when no one else would.”
That day, I learned a wedding doesn’t necessarily start a shared life—sometimes it starts a person’s.
