Nothing brings you back to the center of yourself like being stricken by a bug that renders you unable to willingly lift yourself from under the cover of the comfort of your favorite blanket. The smell of the blanket is familiar. Its warmth takes you away from your illness and transports you to a time when your mom was hovering over you, offering bowls of homemade chicken noodle soup, and your favorite popsicles. But being sick in your fifties is much different than being sick as a child.

After a lovely wedding weekend at the lodge at the end of September, I came home on Sunday afternoon, overflowing with the euphoria of witnessing a marriage that was meant to be. Everything about the weekend exuded love, and that is why I love my job. Was I exhausted? Yes. Was I thrilled to be a part of the incredible display of love? A bigger yes. And was putting in a crazy amount of hours in three days worth it? An overwhelming yes! The weekend went beyond any of my expectations.

But then it was Sunday afternoon, and when the adrenalin of the weekend had passed, and all the guests had vacated the lodge, I was left with only a faint glow of the two days that had transpired, and the fallout from the months that had led up to the happy nuptials. I was drained.

I arrived home that Sunday afternoon, curled myself into a fetal position under my favorite blanket, and gave myself permission to finally rest. That is when the fever took hold. I slept for nineteen of the twenty-four hours that passed while I was blissfully unaware of the time that ticked by. In my mind, I had drifted off in to a short nap. In my reality, my body had decided it was time to play catch up and I had slept my way through an entire calendar day.

Doing what you love to do is a choice. Knowing there are consequences to fulfilling those choices forces us to make a decision people make on a daily basis. But knowing your choices can change the trajectory of other people is a responsibility, and an honor. I was a part of a weekend that, in my mind, will always hold a special place in my heart. And Shamrock Winnie will be the memento of a weekend that will be forever etched in my heart.

Jen and Courtney, your love will forever be written in the stars. The weekend I spent with you and your family and friends will constantly redefine what it means to be truly in love, and to follow your heart, wherever it may lead. The sign you posted at the lodge aptly described the emotion of the weekend – Love is love.