Something struck me about this incident. Something strange and shocking. Something I didn’t dare tell Ahuva
My wedding day arrived.
I woke up bright and early and dove right into tefillah. If I’d been worried that fasting would impede my concentration, my worries proved ungrounded. The world seemed to freeze around me, and it was only me and my siddur as I poured my heart out to HaKadosh Baruch Hu, thanking Him for bringing me to this special day and beseeching a lifetime of brachah upon myself, my future husband, and our future generations. Who could think of eating at such a time? With every word I uttered, I felt my soul soaring to tremendous heights as I connected with Hashem on the most profound level.
The day advanced, and soon it was time to get ready. Through the whirr of preparation — hair, makeup, gown — my mind remained focused on the gravity of the day, and I recited kapitel after kapitel with intense emotion. It was my personal Yom Kippur, the shaarei Shamayim were open to my tefillos. I didn’t want to squander even a single second of this once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
I kept my Tehillim within reach all day, grabbing it between rounds of pictures, constantly whispering, whispering, until I literally felt spiritually cleansed, ready to take the monumental step and walk to my chuppah.
The hall filled up quickly. A sea of faces swam before my eyes as I sat on my bridal throne, swaying in tefillah. As guests started approaching to wish me mazel tov, I tried to contain the butterflies in my stomach and smile warmly, accepting their meaningful brachos.
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