There was a time in my life when I would worry every single day that I had ruined a wedding. The couple didn’t know it, and I would have to tell them.
On one such unmerry occasion, I was driving my family to a party at a friend’s house a little north of town. We would shortly pass by a church — our church, at the time. As we got closer, my mind turned to an office in that church building — my office, in fact. And in that office, behind my chair, was a drawer full of files.
Each file contained a questionnaire and other paperwork pertaining to an upcoming wedding.