On May 16th, I officiated Jordan and Clint's wedding ceremony at the Hotel Swexan in Dallas, Texas. Here are the remarks I shred with them and their guests:

From Jordan and Clint, I think we learn something about recognition.
 
Not instant, cinematic love at first sight, although Clint might argue otherwise, but something a little more interesting: how two people can misread each other at first, and still end up exactly where they are meant to be.
 
Because their story does not begin with perfection.
 
It begins with Clint, overhearing that her name is Jordan and deciding, for reasons that remain unclear, to introduce himself as… Jordan.
 
Which, I think we can all agree, is not a standard opening move.
 
And Jordan’s first impression? Not exactly a sweeping romance. She thought he was, in her words, “a little too confident, with a unique hard to read sense of humor, at first.”
 
And yet, a few hours later, everything shifted. They started talking, really talking, and suddenly the person who seemed distant became someone she connected with deeply. And by the end of that night, Clint was asking her to a Mavericks game, which, as we now understand, is apparently his version of a grand romantic gesture.
 
And Clint? Clint will tell you that what struck him about Jordan was not just how beautiful she was, but how she carries herself, with strength, confidence, and presence. He speaks about her kindness, her steadiness, her ability to see people in their best light, and perhaps most importantly, that when he is with her, “I know I can always be my authentic self.”
 
That line matters.
 
Because what they teach us is that love is not about getting it right the first moment. It is about being open enough to see each other clearly once the moment passes.
 
Jordan’s story is one of curiosity, discipline, and growth. From being, in her own words, a “horse girl” who spent her childhood riding and competing, to making the difficult decision to walk away from something she loved in order to pursue her academic path, to building a career that she has shaped with intention and resilience. She describes a life where success mattered, but where she has come to realize that “most of my joy” now comes from the life she has built outside of work , the relationships, the rhythms, the day-to-day moments.
 
Clint’s story runs alongside that in a different key. Deep roots in family, in community, in tradition. Shabbat dinners, a grandfather who called the Rangers “lousy,” a connection to Jewish life that is not just belief but continuity. And then a life built with energy and movement, tennis tournaments, running, friendships that endure for decades, and a personality that, by his own admission, might be a little goofy.
And somehow, these two people meet, and what they discover is not difference, but alignment.
 
Jordan says something very simple and very profound: “Being his partner feels easy in a way I have never experienced before.”
 
Now, “easy” does not mean effortless. They are very clear about that. They talk about careers, challenges, stress, emotions. But what they mean is something deeper. That when the values are aligned, when the respect is mutual, when the commitment is real, the relationship itself becomes a place of steadiness.
 
Clint describes their life not in grand gestures, but in what I would call the sacred ordinary: Monday night dinners at Howard Wang’s, coffee on weekends, time with family, caring for their dog CJ, the small rituals that quietly become the foundation of a life.
 
And that, I think, is what they teach all of us.
 
That love is not built in the extraordinary moments alone, but in the repetition of the ordinary ones.
 
That partnership is not about finding someone perfect, but about finding someone whose presence makes life feel both grounded and expansive at the same time.
 
That you can begin with a misunderstanding, or a bad first impression, or even introducing yourself with the wrong name, and still arrive at something deeply right.
 
And maybe most importantly, they teach us that love is not just about how you feel in the beginning, but about how you show up over time.
 
Jordan speaks about wanting a partner who supports her, who stands beside her, who helps her build a future. Clint speaks about wanting a life filled with shared experiences, with family, with meaning. And together, they have done something very simple and very powerful: they have chosen each other, not just once, but again and again, until that choice became a life.
 
So what can we learn from Jordan and Clint?
 
We can learn to look again, even when our first impression is wrong.
We can learn to value steadiness over spectacle.
We can learn that the right person is the one who allows you to be fully yourself, and who you choose, fully, in return.
 
Jordan and Clint, thank you for teaching us that. May your life together be filled with those same quiet moments of joy, the shared meals, the laughter, the conversations that stretch late into the night, and the deep, steady knowledge that you have found your person.

On April 18th, I officiated Peyton and Isaac's wedding ceremony at The Manor in Edmond, Oklahoma. Here are the remarks I shared with them and their guests:

From Peyton and Isaac, I think we learn something about the quiet power of clarity.
 
Peyton’s story is shaped by strength, both inherited and chosen. She was raised by two parents who modeled, in different but equally powerful ways, what it means to live with purpose. And Peyton took those lessons seriously. Whether it was athletics, the arts, or now her path toward veterinary medicine, she has always approached her life with determination and direction. She planned her future, she pursued it, and she continues to build it with intention. What stands out is not just ambition, but honesty. She does not pretend certainty where it does not exist, but she moves forward with clarity about what matters.
 
Isaac’s story moves along a different track but arrives in a similar place. He was raised in a deeply Jewish environment, immersed in tradition, learning Hebrew, celebrating holidays, and even marking his Bar Mitzvah at the Western Wall in Jerusalem. Judaism, for him, became not only a religion but a core identity. And even when life took him far from that environment, to Oklahoma to pursue Taekwondo at a higher level, he carried that identity with him. Not always in strict practice, but in a way that grounded him in who he is.
 
And that authenticity, that sense of knowing oneself, seems to be what allowed them to recognize each other so clearly.
 
They met, like so many couples today, on a dating app. Peyton says Isaac was one of the very first people she spoke to there, and in fact the only person she truly went on a date with. Isaac insists that we note, for the historical record, that she messaged him first. And from the beginning, something important happened between them: they spoke openly and honestly about their values and their future. Peyton says that was a major reason she was drawn to him. She wanted someone stable, someone aspirational, someone whose goals aligned with her own.
 
Isaac remembers the first time he saw her walk out the door for their date. He says he was “awe struck not only by how beautiful she was, but by how strong and tall she carried herself.” And as they sat together at dinner, he says he hung on every word she spoke, thinking to himself, “This is it, she’s the one.”
 
Now, we might think that certainty like that is the whole story. But what they teach us is that love is not only about the first impression. It is about what follows.
 
Peyton describes Isaac as someone who “sees the world in a lighter and less cynical way.” Someone open, loving, and dependable, the kind of person his friends know they can count on. And Isaac describes life with Peyton as something remarkable in its simplicity. He says that even the dullest moments become bright when he is with her, and that moving through life together feels natural and full of love.
 
What I hear in both of their essays is something we do not talk about often enough: ease. Not that life will be easy, but that being together feels right. That when two people share values, support each other’s ambitions, and genuinely enjoy each other’s company, the partnership itself becomes a place of stability.
 
Peyton says she wanted someone who would love her for who she is and support the decisions she makes. Isaac says that with Peyton he feels an ease in moving through life that he never imagined. And together they say something very practical, almost refreshingly straightforward: this is the moment in their lives when marriage simply makes sense. They want to build a home, create a family, and step into the future together.
 
So what can we learn from Peyton and Isaac?
 
We can learn that love grows best in honesty.
We can learn that identity does not have to be identical for two people to share values.
We can learn that sometimes the most important quality in a partner is not drama or intensity, but steadiness.
 
And perhaps most importantly, we can learn that a strong marriage begins not with perfection, but with two people who look at each other and say, with clear eyes and open hearts: this is the person I want to build my life with.
 
Peyton and Isaac, thank you for reminding all of us of that. May your life together be filled with the same laughter, support, and quiet strength that brought you here today.

On March 22nd, I officiated Brooke and Cole’s wedding ceremony at Texas Discovery Gardens at Fair Park, in Dallas, Texas. Here are the remarks I shared with them and their guests:

Friends, our shared traditions embrace lifelong learning and learning from everyone. So, whenever I officiate a wedding, I ask myself, this couple being unique individuals, what can I learn from them, what are they, consciously or maybe even unconsciously, teaching me, and indeed us?

Not what do we admire about them. Not what do we celebrate.
But what are they actually teaching us, simply by the way they have chosen each other?

From Brooke and Cole, I think we learn something powerful about intention.

Cole grew up in a family shaped by service. After 9/11, he watched his stepfather deploy to Afghanistan and Iraq. On one side of his family there was governmental service; on the other, community policing. He chose the Army. He has served in Guam, Oklahoma, and El Paso. His life has been about looking after others, coaching others, helping others get where they want to go.

And yet when he writes about Brooke, there is a shift. He says, “With her I have that for myself.” That may be one of the most honest lines in his entire essay. A man who has spent years serving others discovered what it feels like to be fully supported in return. He says marrying her is “the most certain I’ve been about anything in my life.” That is not casual language from someone who has made serious commitments before.

Brooke’s story teaches us something equally intentional. She writes that what she loves about being Jewish is “the celebration of life, love, and community,” the feeling of being part of a tribe. And she is very clear about something important: while there can be pressure to marry within the faith, what mattered most to her was shared family values. If a partner shared her commitment to family, respect, and building something lasting, religion would not divide them.

Then she says something I absolutely love. She writes, “Cole and I did not meet by accident. I went looking for him, knowing exactly what I wanted.” That is not fate in the passive sense. That is purpose. That is clarity.

Their first date was at Topgolf. Not candlelight. Not poetry. Just two people being goofy and terrible at strange golf games. Cole says he knew she was special because he could be his “goofy self” around her. Brooke says it wasn’t love at first sight. It was a “slow-burn kind of love.” They set expectations early. They asked each other real questions. They took their time.

What can we learn from that? That love does not have to be dramatic to be profound. That clarity is more powerful than chemistry alone. That being able to be your goofy, imperfect self may matter more than being impressive.

Brooke describes them as “two independent people choosing to share our lives with each other.” I think that line is everything. Not two people who need each other. Not two people completing each other. Two people choosing.

As the oldest siblings in their families, both are used to leading, to chasing goals, to standing on their own. They weren’t looking for rescue. They were looking for partnership.

And partnership, as they describe it, is not about sameness. They move through life differently. They approach things differently. But over time they have learned to understand and respect those differences. Brooke says those differences have made them stronger, teaching patience and flexibility. Cole says he would marry her “today, tomorrow, yesterday, anywhere dressed in anything.” That is not about a wedding day. That is about certainty.

So what do Brooke and Cole teach us?

They teach us that love can be deliberate.
That commitment can be thoughtful, not rushed.
That independence and intimacy are not opposites.
That shared values matter more than shared backgrounds.
And that being fully yourself with someone is one of life’s greatest gifts.

They remind us that marriage is not simply romance. It is choosing to build a life. It is deciding, with open eyes, that this is your teammate. This is your person.

Brooke and Cole, thank you for teaching us that love, when chosen with intention, becomes something steady, strong, and deeply joyful.

And may all of us leave here remembering that the best partnerships are not accidents. They are built.