The Venue Menu
The epic highs and lows of choosing a wedding venue
Greetings from Wedding Land, where we have officially booked our venue! Whew. What an arduous process. My whole body is still recovering from the stress.
When we got engaged, Tyler and I developed a short list of criteria that we would abide by when selecting a venue:
No barn weddings (No offense to my farm girlies —just ain’t my vibe)
Availability in 2026 (BUT NO SUMMER WEDDING!!!! TYLER IS SWEATY AND I WILL BE IN AGONY!!!)
No outdoor ceremony (Don’t want to panic about the weather)
And that was it! A reasonable list, don’t you think? I felt certain we’d find something to check all the boxes. And we did! (Or so I thought.)
I locked in on one particular venue almost immediately — a beautiful, repurposed cathedral only 30 minutes from my hometown. Perfect! No barn, an indoor ceremony option, and to top it all off: availability next fall! Just what we had dreamed of. A fall wedding!
When we toured the venue, though, we quickly discovered that its functionality and logistics were not quite up to snuff. And it crushed my heart, because the place was beautiful. Gorgeous. Striking. Everything I had envisioned.
But we could not, in good conscience, book this venue. Our guests would have been majorly inconvenienced. It would have logistically stressed me out on the wedding day. Not worth it.
We left the tour feeling disappointed and panicked. Heartsick. I had not arranged any back-up options. Maybe one or two, but they just didn’t feel ... right. We all truly thought that venue would be the one.
And so the manhunt began. We needed to find something else, and we needed to find it fast. For a week straight, all we did was Google venues and research and compare prices and send a million emails and sift through website after website to try and find what we wanted.
It kind of felt like going into a fancy new restaurant for the first time and feeling wholly unprepared and overwhelmed. You’re presented with a menu full of a gazillion options, and you can feel the sweat start trickling down your neck as the waiter circles your table like an impatient vulture. ”Can I get you anything? Have you considered our a la carte options? I highly recommend the veal.”
You start to wish you had looked the menu up online beforehand. Too late! Just make a decision. If you want to eat soon, you need to pick something now. Except you’re not sure what you want! Everything is too small, or too big, or too plain, or doesn’t have enough cheese. You have to have enough cheese. There are too many choices; the restaurant is too loud; you start to hate everything and everyone. You want to peel your skin off your body from the pressure. You blurt out, at least once: “That’s it! Let’s just go to McDonalds!”
Yeah. Not fun.
We knew we wanted to get married in 2026, but booking so close to the new year — while also abiding by each of the criteria — severely limited our options. A compromise would have to be made in some way. I was so desperate I even started to consider a barn wedding.
But my little heart screamed: That’s not what you want! Don’t give in yet!
I knew that I had to be flexible somehow, though. I just had to.
How was I supposed to bring to life the vision we had and everything we’d imagined for our special day, while also putting our guests’ needs at the forefront to ensure their comfort?
Having both things felt impossible. Every venue required some sort of sacrifice.
I didn’t know what to do. I reverted to some basic operation instructions and thought about the prayer my therapist taught me years ago. Alcoholics use it in their recovery programs, too:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.
These words have always been so meaningful to me, so symbolic of that time of my life, when I worked hard to manage my anxiety and learn how to live again. These words are so full of life and have a magical way of showing up when I need them most.
So, in the moments that I thought I might lose my mind from all this venue stress, I started to mutter the prayer under my breath and continue plodding ahead. One foot in front of the other.
We booked some more tours for the next weekend. I wasn’t confident about either. Major compromises would have to be made with either option. The first place was fine. Pretty! Elegant. But not quite right ... especially the price. Woof.
Immediately after that tour, we drove to the second venue, and as Tyler’s truck climbed up the winding hill and the property came into full view, I knew instantly it was the one. I just did.
“Woahhhh” we both said, craning our necks to peer out the window and take it all in — a beautiful, stately mansion sitting on a gorgeous piece of property, full of so many trees (Tyler’s favorite).
Not a barn. Check! But ... we’d have to get married next summer. Outside. It was their only availability.
And guess what? I didn’t even care about the criteria anymore. The venue was so beautiful, the tour so wonderful, that we simply did as the prayer asked and accepted the things we could not change.
We booked it! So, the girl who hates summer is getting married in the summer. Outside. Story of my life.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about wedding planning, it’s to expect the unexpected. I’ve changed my mind and taken alternate courses on just about every step of the way so far.
It certainly helped matters that when we first got out of our cars and walked up the front path to the door of the estate, I spotted a lovely standing windchime in the landscaping. The bells trinkled softly in the wind, and I noticed some words faintly engraved along the long barrels:
God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
courage to change the things I can,
and wisdom to know the difference.
I gasped and showed my mom. We smiled at each other, and then I walked up to the door and gave it a hearty knock.
So true! It was like it was meant to be!!!! Can’t wait!!!