It was not the most cheerful of days, the day of my wedding; in fact, as I recall, the rain would not stop pouring. And by pouring, I mean POURING. But, despite the foul weather, it was the best day of my life. After all, it was my wedding day. Of course it was the best day of my life. But it was even better to me than what it would be to other people.

As I peeked out into the sanctuary, watching through my veil as the bridesmaids - my three closest friends - made their way slowly down the aisle, one of their arms hooked with the groomsmen's', the other hand holding a small bouquet, I smiled. This was the day that I had been waiting for my whole life - it had finally come! I was marrying - I was actually, finally marrying John!

John. . .

My eyes were drawn to his figure, standing next to the pastor, who was going to wed us in a few moments. John stood there, seemingly solemn. Only those who knew him well could see that he was anything but calm and serious. He was practically on his tiptoes with excitement. My smile broadened at this fact. Of course, he had every right to be excited. We had gone through so much, had waited so long. . . But all that was behind us now.

I smiled as the four-year-old flower girl and the five-year-old ring bearer made their way down the aisle, trying desperately to walk as slowly as they had been told to, and failing more often than not. But who could hold it against them? I certainly couldn't. I quickly smoothed out my skirt, straightened my veil, and picked up my bouquet, which I had set aside earlier. It had been carefully picked from my best friend's flower garden earlier that day, with Lilies of the Valley (whites and soft pinks and purples), Irises, and one single pink tulip. They were my three favorite flowers. I linked my right hand through my father's arm, who covered my hand with his.

"Well, this is it," he murmured softly, as we waited for our cue. "You're sure you want to do this?" I nodded, starting to respond, but closed my mouth again as the flower girl and the ring bearer reached their places. The pastor glanced at the doorway and saw my father and I. He gave a slight nod to the pianist, who started playing the traditional wedding march, just as had been planned out weeks ago.

Everyone stood, but my eyes were not for anyone but John, who was practically leaning forward out of eagerness. I beamed from beneath my white veil as my father and I made our way, slowly, up to the altar. Step; rest; step; rest. As childish as it sounds, I actually felt like it would take forever to get there. I very nearly trembled with excitement. Needless to say, after what seemed like half an hour, we reached the altar. The music stopped right on cue, and, when all was still, the guests still standing, my father put my hand in John's and covered them with his.

"John, I give into your hand my daughter," my father said, slowly and solemnly. "May God bless your union." Then he took his seat in the front row - or rather, he stood at it, for everyone was still standing. The pastor welcomed the guests, prayed briefly over the events that would take place, and told the guests that they could sit down again. After everyone was seated, he started the wedding ceremony.

I could hardly control my eager excitement, let alone pay attention to what the pastor was saying, as he told the guests about our commitment from so long ago to stay pure until marriage. I smiled as I glanced at John. We had both chosen to honor our future spouse when we were little by saving our first kiss for our wedding day. It had been hard, especially when we had entered into the dating scenario. But we had not only survived, but conquered triumphantly. We had yet to kiss for the first time. Our commitment had stood throughout the tests of time, impatience, and doubt.

Tears of joy began to fill my eyes as the pastor handed me the wedding vows I had previously written to me, and I began to read them, trying to keep my voice steady: "My dearest John, I promise to always love you, cherish you, and support you. I will always stand by your side, even when others don't. I will encourage you, comfort you, adore you, and love you until my days shall end. I will never desert you. I love you."

John's vows I shall never forget: "Jocelyn, I love you. I promise never to leave you or forsake you. I will always protect you, take care of you, stand by you, and love you. For that, my love, shall always be true: I love you." The words were simple, but they were the most beautiful of all the words I have heard in my young life. I know that they were the truest words spoken to me in the world, and the sincerity of them caused those joyful tears to slip from my eyelashes and down my cheeks.

Then came the giving of the rings. They were similar bands of pure gold. The only difference between mine and his was the small diamond on mine. He slipped mine onto my finger while repeating what the pastor told him, his blue eyes gazing straight into mine through the veil. I was lost in that gaze, and was only vaguely aware of the fact that he was speaking. But the words he spoke were only a different version of the vows he had spoken to me before, which I had heard so clearly. His eyes were full of love, of excitement, but most of all, sincerity. I was reminded again of one of the reasons that I loved him - he was always sincere.

But before I could ponder that, it was my turn to slip his wedding ring onto his finger, while repeating what the pastor told me. I handed my bouquet to my maid of honor. I didn't pay attention to the words I spoke; they were just a repeat of what my vows had said, as they had been for John. And I was still lost in his gaze. . . I only glanced away once, and that was as I started to slip his ring on, to make sure that I was putting it on the right finger. I could just see me accidentally putting it onto the wrong finger. That was what my father had done at his wedding, and I didn't want to bring that embarrassment upon me.

Now, finally, after all that we had waited through, it was time. "John, do you take this woman, Jocelyn Wyatt, to be your lawfully wedded wife, until death do you part, as long as you both may live?" My eyes were on his, though he had turned to face the pastor. "I do," he said, calmly, clearly, and sincerely. The way he said those two words sent a thrill through my body, and two more tears of complete happiness spilled down my cheeks.

The pastor then turned to me. "Jocelyn, do you take this man, John Thompson, to be your lawfully wedded husband, until death do you part, as long as you both may live?" I glanced sideways at John and smiled before answering. "I do," I said, softly and clearly.

"I pronounce you two husband and wife," the pastor said, smiling. John squeezed my hand, which I only just realized that he was holding. His smile grew bigger as he turned to John. "John, you may finally kiss your bride."

With a grin, John lifted my veil back over my head. I could just imagine everyone there leaning forward expectantly. They all knew how long we had waited for this moment. His eyes twinkled as he leaned forward. . . and kissed my forehead softly. The guests laughed, amused, and then cheers rose up as he leaned forward again and brought his lips to my eager ones. Everything around me - the cheers, the people, the applause, everything - faded, and I was vaguely aware of being tilted back towards the ground in a dip, before John's lips left mine.

He hugged me close and twirled me around, a soft laugh upon his lips, his breath upon my cheek. He whispered, "I love you," into my ear, but before I could respond, he left the embrace, though my hand was still in his, and turned to face the guests, as had been planned. I turned as well, and faced my friends and family, well aware of the fact that my face was beaming with complete contentment and happiness.

"May I present Mr. and Mrs. John Thompson!" The pastor announced to the guests, excitedly, and the guests applauded again, standing up as John and I left the sanctuary. In the lobby he hugged me close again, his lips seeking mine. (Needless to say, they found what they sought.) I smiled into his lips as I kissed him back.

After all this time of waiting, we were finally here. We were finally married! None of my friends understood how we could actually pull off not kissing until our wedding day. (Because we loved each other.) Not many of them thought that we would have our actual first kiss on our wedding day. (We did.) Several of them had wondered how you could know that you loved someone if you hadn't even kissed them yet. (It's not about kissing.) None of them to this day understand that it had been our love for each other that had kept us from even kissing. They have never understood that anybody can give into temptation, but only a few strong people could stand up to temptation, could love someone enough to say no to the temptation of kissing.

That's what John and I did. We had stayed pure until our marriage because we had loved each other so much. It would forever be a testament of our true, pure love for each other. For that's what it was.


A/N: This story is in honor of two good friends of mine, Meg and Caleb. Their first kiss was on their wedding day. (They never kissed anybody else.) Having been engaged for about a year, (talk about torture!) they are happily married, and have been for nearly a year now. I can only hope that my wedding will have the same purity as theirs did. (Oh, and just if you want to know what inspired the whole kissing the forehead thing, that's what Caleb did. It was so sweet. =) )

Also, please note: I don't mean to say with this story anything along the lines of, "if you really love someone, you will wait until your wedding to kiss". I just want to make the statement that yes, people have successfully proved their love, if you will, by waiting until their wedding day to kiss. It makes the wedding day much more sweet, I might add. . .

Welp, thanks for reading this, and if you want to leave a review, go ahead and leave one. I'd love to hear about how you like this short story and all that. . . =)