B and I took the weekend off to fulfill the premarital counseling portion of our marriage prep. While we had planned on having to navigate a six-week course, we found out that through the Atlanta diocese, we had three options:
1) One 8am to 8pm day in downtown Atlanta being talked "at, not to" (according to our first would-be priest). Boring at best was the impression we were given.
2) Engaged Encounter--Three days in a remote Atlanta motel overnighting with your fellow married wannabes. In a word, "intense," we were told.
3) Three to Get Married-- Again, three days in a remote Atlanta location, but you sleep and eat where you'd like. Our priest's pick and, ultimately, ours, though we're sure not positive if it's three days to get married or three beings (Myself, B, and the Trinity, though that might make it "Five to Get Married").
We didn't want to do the one-day session. Seemed like a sure-fire way to get yourself disqualified, picking the shortest option right off the bat. Plus, it's marriage, right? So we may as well go for the best option we can get.
Engaged Encounter sounded like a little much to us. The cost, which wasn't overly expensive, certainly wouldn't be enough to cover two hotel rooms. Were we meant to share? Was that the first test? Would they put us with our gender-segregated couples to bunk for the weekend in a rundown HoJo for the weekend? Too many questions, and none pertaining to our upcoming nuptials. Next!
Three to Get Married sounded good. From the schedule we saw online, it looked like a good mix of seminars and couple-specific discussion time. We weren't sure what the questionnaires and discussion questions would be, but the priest had assured me that they'd be concrete and helpful-- finance, family, conflict, etc... Not so much theoretical and strictly faith-based. While I value a weekend retreat discussing faith, that's not what B and I were looking for solely out of marriage counseling. We wanted the whole deal. Well, at least I did and B is sweet enough to roll with just about anything.
So we signed up a few weeks ago for the November session. The priest said we could wait until February, but "I find it's best to get things out now," which I guess means "Hey, some people don't make it through this. May as well get it moving before you put down any more deposits." Classy.
Last week I was really nervous. Things are crazy at work and, let's be honest, I'm not a fan of meeting new people, so the prospect of spending three days with six other couples talking about things that I find pretty personal and may or may not agree with was pretty daunting. B and I discussed options for playing hooky, being sick, and generally laying low, then he shook me out of my Negative Nancy state and said all would be fine.
We headed out the door of his parent's house on Friday night at 5 for the first session, which started at 6 and ran until 10 that evening. First, we got lost (I knew that Starbucks on the corner was too good to be true), so while we had hoped to be late, it looked like now we might actually be late. And that made me more nervous.
As it turned out, we were the first couple to arrive. We met the leaders/hosts for the weekend (and their 12 week old kiddo, a babbling advertisement for NFP) and got settled in with our binder (yes, binder, with a photo of Jesus and our names on the front) and our name tags (also, ironically, with a photo of Jesus and our names). Some of the name tags were messed up, leaving Jesus with, as B put it, a "fivehead."
We settled in for "Happy Hour," the first item on our itinerary and got ready for individual interviews (think Miss America with fewer world peace references). I, for one, was thrilled that Happy Hour actually came with wine and beer. Woohoo! Break the ice with a little pinot and, I promise you, I'll be a less-stressed person during these personal sessions. Then again, pinot before interview? Dangerous.
I got called back and met with the female half of the couple who asked me the same questions I'd gotten when we met the priest. Are you here under force? Are there conditions to your marriage? When is divorce permissible? Do you resolve conflict or sweep it under the rug? Do you get along with your fiance's friends/family?
And then, right there in the Atlanta Mission Center, I told my first Pre-Cana lie. "What method do you plan to use: birth control, natural family planning, or none of the above?" Sitting in my uncomfortable office chair, the kind meant to make you want out of your boss's office, with tiny amounts of loestrin running through my veins, I squeaked, "Well, we're still discussing that, but we're definitely open to NFP."
When I got back to the main room, other couples were arriving and heading off to their interviews. B was still gone. He stayed gone for a long time. Turns out he and the guy were just chatting, but in the meantime I had no idea. As soon as he got back, I cracked. "I lied!" I confessed. "I lied at Pre-Cana!" "About what?" he said, shocked. "I said I was open to NFP," I replied. He laughed. "That's funny, because I told them you were totally on the pill," he said. Here's hoping those interviewers don't compare notes.
The rest of the night was interesting. The first speaker, who talked about the Sacramentality of Marriage and the Formation of the Conscience opened by saying, "The divorce rate in America is at 50%, so, when you propose, you may as well take a six-shooter, put three bullets in it, and hold it to your fiance's head. Pull the trigger and those are your odds." Crickets.
The talk was interesting though, just hearing about the state of marriages in America and the "good for you" attitude we take toward just about everything.
Before we left, we heard another talk by a couple called Marriage, the Early Years, in which they talked about the benefits of color-coding your kids' (and husband's) things. I'm sure they mentioned other things, but mostly I just remember seeing overwhelmed parents of three that had been married five years. He's in law school and she's a teacher. That's a lot.
We headed out the door just after 10pm and got home in time to catch up with B's parents and head to bed around 1am. We knew the next morning would come early-- we had to be back at the Mission Center at 9:15.
B's phone rings. "Deacon B" appears on the screen. 
