I am an officiant in the state of Washington. Recently a bride asked me, "What do you do when you arrive at the venue?" and I had a tough time explaining it. I don't "do" just one thing.. you do! I just make sure that happens.

So, this is about what a minister/officiant (mainly, me) does before, during, and after a ceremony. I thought perhaps this might help couples understand how it works from my perspective.

I don’t know if it’s true for every officiant but, from the moment I walk into a wedding, I take on many different titles…

My first title, often, is babysitter.
The vast majority of weddings that I officiate have small children — flower girls and ring bearers — or just some family members who are part of the big day, are often milling around, while parents, aunts, and uncles are preparing. These kiddos are bored, anxious and sometimes a little mischevious. I will often find myself talking to these kids, and pulling out some coloring pages and crayons I always carry with me. A promise of "If you do your part just right, you can get this cool sticker at the end!". I tend to occupy them for a few moments at least until a parent, realizing their child is quiet, comes looking for them. They see me…
“Oh, hi!” I say, “I’m the minister.” There is usually some relief and a little perplexity. There’s a tattooed, female minister, sitting on the bottom of a flight of stairs, talking to a three-year-old about how itchy her dress is or wiping a 6 year old's nose because it's not polite to pick when you're in your best shirt. I always have tissues. ALWAYS.

This role quickly changes as grandparents arrive and my title quickly becomes that of “The Inquisitioned.”
Which faith am I from? How many of these have I done? Do I know where the bathrooms are? Do I have an education for this? Most of these are innocent enough and curiosity fueld kindness, but, occasionally, I am the source of misplaced discontent. “I didn’t know women could marry people,” said one. While another (slightly intoxicated) said, “Did all those tattoos hurt ?!”
When this happens my job changes again…

For I am now the referee that is meant to handle such penalties with grace.
They are not personal attacks and I never take them as such. I am there to demonstrate why a short blonde with tattoos is as good a choice as any. I deflect discontent from any guests or party member, and handle uncomfortable questions with humor and with grace. Trust me, I win them over with a 100% success rate.

Then in comes the couple, and I shift from referee to running back.
If they haven’t done a rehearsal (and many don’t) this will be the first time we’ve met in person and my role is now that of the best friend they didn’t know they had.
“How are you doing,” I will ask or “Just don’t puke,” or “How much have you had to drink?” are all standard questions. I’ll ask for the wedding certificate and payment (because all too often these are forgotten in the joys of the ceremony) and ensure them that they won’t be left with awkward gaps in the service. “I got your back, and will guide you through it,” I’ll say, and they’ll look relieved.
I ask, “Who has the rings?” and someone will often point to the best man. More often than not the rings will end up in my pocket because, you know, safety. It is the reason why I always wear a dress or pants with pockets.

Then my role shifts again to traffic director.
One partner is often standing beside me at this point, and the rest of the wedding party isn’t sure where to stand, or the mother of the bride can’t remember where she’s supposed to sit, or the flower girl is already trying to dispense her heavy basket of petals. So, I point out a spot to best man, or remind the groom that I got this, or pick out a seat for the bride’s mom, and direct the little girl to the back of the rows of seats, before heading back to my spot as if I knew the plan all along.

Nothing in the world is as comforting as someone who knows what they’re doing. So, I become a traffic director to ease the tensions in the room while I wait for the music to begin. I will usually chat a bit (if appropriate) to the partner waiting and anyone who looks a little nervous.

And then it happens. The procession begins and my role of babysitter, Inquisitioned, referee, best friend, and traffic director all fade away and the real reason I'm here unfolds before us.

This is what I do.

Sometimes, that commitment is mediated between audience, God, and couple. Often, it is just between the couple and audience. And other times it just the couple — standing in front of an audience making a commitment to themselves. Either way, I am needed to help guide the spoken words of things already understood, but too huge to say without help. I officiate the love, and it is the single best role I will ever have.

I've officiated the religious, the spiritual, the atheist, and the pagan. I have hand-fasted, read Hebrew, and read poems. I have read Christian scripture, led meditation before services with couples, and have ardently removed any mention of God, and remained steadfastly present regardless of their needs. It is my job to meet their needs; it is not their job to revolve around mine.

Me? I like me some God. Yet, I realize that every human capable of love is worthy of committed love and nearly every committed love in our culture needs a mediator. So there I am, quite literally standing in the gap of an unmarried couple regardless of sex, gender, faith, or politics, and I mediate. I hand them rings, hold tissues, guide them to say “I do,” ask them questions, and remind them that it won’t always be easy. Then I ask them to remove me from the gap, to create their own space, and kiss.

Just like that, my job is over.

There is often 30 seconds where we take a wedding-day selfie (one of my favorite little things I do) and I remind them to call me if they need anything; they don’t have to do it alone. With a rush they are met with parents and friends and they are moved away from me. I find a quiet place to sit and take out my black pen and sign their wedding certificate. I catch a bridesmaid or a parent and ask them to confirm that the Wedding Certificate IS signed in case the couple asks. I will hand her vows, empty wedding ring boxes, and used tissues that they may want to save. They take them, and quickly leave for pictures, and I’m left alone again.

I pack up my things, perhaps stick my tongue out at a flower girl or stray cousin on my way out, and leave without so much as a “goodbye.” Most don’t want it, don’t need it, or are too busy to be bothered.

That’s okay. I’ve run out of roles to fill anyway. As I walk out to my car I think to myself, “Not too shabby,” but I’m already critiquing my words and how I might do it better next time.