The morning of Emily and Sam’s wedding felt like a metaphor for every anxious thought you’ve ever had before a big moment: dark skies, pouring rain, and the kind of damp chill that makes you question all of your life choices, starting with your decision to work in weddings and ending with whether joy is even real.

It rained hard. The kind of rain that makes you suspicious of optimism. Clouds sat on the mountains like a weighted blanket with commitment issues. Water pooled in the paths. The outdoor venue looked more like a “maybe next time” situation. But Emily and Sam? Calm. Steady. Beaming like the sun we were all convinced no longer existed.

And then — because life is sometimes cinematic when it matters most — the sky cleared. Not gradually, not politely. It was as if someone in the sky got the memo late and went, “Oh no, it’s their wedding day,” and flipped the lights back on.

Sun poured over the venue like a divine apology. The puddles sparkled. The Ozarks glowed. And the venue staff? Heroes with leaf blowers. Literal leaf blowers. They dried off the flooded walkways with such frantic grace, you’d think they were prepping a movie set instead of a post-storm wedding aisle.

By the time Emily walked out, it was like the rain had been a dream. Everything looked untouched. Except it wasn’t. It was touched. By love. And by those leaf blowers.

The ceremony was full of quiet joy and teary eyes. The kind where the silence says everything. And when we hit golden hour? Well, that light did what light does best — it made the whole day look like it had been perfect all along.

Emily and Sam's wedding reminded me that sometimes, the world does show up for you — just fashionably late. And when it does, you'd better be holding the hand of someone who makes you laugh when your shoes are wet and your timeline’s wrecked.

Scroll down to see what love looks like after a little rain.