It’s not quite six in the morning, but the metro is already humming. The heat prompts me to dig through my oversized handbag for a folding fan. It probably uses more energy than it saves, but the breeze on my face is worth it. I fan myself a few times before the train stops and the doors open.
I step onto the platform and climb the stairs to street level. Hues of pink and orange greet me, along with the Iron Lady standing tall in the morning light. My Paris workday has officially begun.
My bags are packed with what feels like a million little things: a bouquet, boutonniere, glasses, pink champagne, a tiny bottle of bubbles, my binder and my heels (because sneakers are a must on Paris’s cobblestone streets). From my pocket, I pull a small pouch labeled “For Happy Tears,” holding two tissues. It’s wedding day and I have everything I need to make the moment special.
The real work begins when the couple arrives. They are often alone, navigating a foreign city in wedding clothes, searching for that one perfect spot they’ve seen in pictures.
It’s always a sight: taxis pulling up, and Cinderella gowns or tailored suits stepping out. Even with my overloaded handbag, I run to meet them.
I take their bags, free them from their formalwear burdens, and invite them to look around: they’ve made it. For some, it’s their first visit to Paris. They’ve only seen the pictures, but now they’re living the moment.
I tell them my job is twofold. First, to help slow down time, because it will fly by. I wish I could truly do it, but that’s not something I learned in seminary.
What I did learn in seminary is the importance of paying attention to details. Just as every “jot and tittle” matters in biblical translation, every small touch on a wedding day carries meaning. The second part of my work lies in curating the tiny, intentional gestures that help shape the sacredness of the moment.
Pastors often find themselves entangled in debates over seemingly minor things – like the color of the carpet or the choice of curtains – when leading their congregations into new seasons of ministry. But we know it’s never really about the carpet or the curtains.
These objects often hold sacred memories: perhaps a beloved member helped choose them or they were added during a milestone in the church’s history. What seems trivial is often a thread in the tapestry of communal memory.
I see the same reverence for details at weddings. A boutonniere chosen to honor a grandfather. A handkerchief gifted by a parent. A bottle of champagne from a vineyard the couple has never heard of, but that will become part of their story.
These aren’t just things. They are touchstones of love, memory, and meaning.
Whether in a sanctuary or beneath the Eiffel Tower, such details remind us that small acts, rooted in love, carry the weight of something far greater. They tell the story of who we are and those who came before us.
Mother Teresa once said, “Not all of us can do great things, but we can do small things with great love.” She took her name from St. Thérèse of Lisieux, who practiced “The Little Way,” a path of simplicity, humility, and love.
Known as “The Little Flower” of Jesus, St. Thérèse chronicled her spiritual struggles in her autobiography, ”Story of a Soul,” offering glimpses into her doubt, despair, and enduring faith. Even in her lowest moments, St. Thérèse remained rooted in God’s mercy and love.
She wrote, “What matters in life is not great deeds but great love,” and “Holiness does not consist in doing extraordinary things, but in doing ordinary things with extraordinary love.” But the quote that convicts me most, and explains why I package tissues for happy tears and carry bubbles in my pocket, is this: “Never get tired of doing little things for others. Sometimes those little things occupy the biggest part of their hearts.”
I recently wrote about letting your tears fall as an expression of faith. Now, I offer the only way I know to move through those holy tears: with love.
In times of uncertainty and sorrow, the only way I can put one foot in front of the other is to ground myself in love. As First Corinthians 16:14 reminds us: “Do everything in love.” The Little Way, embodied by St. Thérèse and followed by Mother Teresa, offers a path forward when nothing else seems clear.
Yes, there is much in our world that calls us to lament and we must. We honor suffering with our holy tears. But as we cry, we also hold fast to the one thing always within our grasp: love.
Whether through bubbles or tissues, carpets or curtains, may we navigate these uncertain times with everyday acts of love. “By this, everyone will know that you are my disciples…” (John 13:35).
And as Mother Teresa reminds us, “We only have today. Let us begin.”
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Rev. Michelle Wahila is an ordained PCUSA pastor, founder of Ruffled by Grace, and sought-after officiant and retreat leader. She creates heartfelt celebrations and soulful experiences that blend tradition with imagination. Now living in a 19th-century farmhouse in rural France with her family and a menagerie of pets, she enjoys gardening, making jam, and savoring a good cup of coffee.
