Where the Walls Let the Wind In

There’s something unmistakably joyful about a summer wedding, especially when it’s one of your favorite people tying the knot. Last Friday, July 18, I found myself at The Brim in Kansas City, smiling before I even made it halfway down the winding path leading to the venue. Sophie, my former teammate from my last job in Cybersecurity, was getting married to DoJohn. I remember when she first mentioned him on a break between back-to-back incident reports. She lit up then—and now, a couple of years later, here we were.

The weather had been flirting all morning between sunshine and overcast, but it felt like an affectionate tease, not a threat. Kansas City's July can be oppressive, but that day the clouds gave us cover, and the breeze was flipping hair and lifting hems in just the right way. The chapel stood like a scene from a pastoral fairy tale—clean and white, tidy against the vibrant sweep of green grass, with cottony clouds gathering dramatically overhead. It felt like the kind of place you'd want to say something important in.

Everyone was milling around outside before the ceremony, clasping hands, hugging, trading stories about how they knew the couple. There was palpable delight in the air, the kind that makes strangers feel like temporary family. I caught a few familiar faces from our office days—some now longtime friends, others former war buddies in the fast-paced trenches of server downtime and phishing attacks.

When the music shifted and the crowd began forming toward the open sides of the chapel, the mood quietly collected itself into reverence. I loved that about The Brim—how its walls lifted like great garage doors, letting the outside breathe into the ceremony. It felt like no one had to choose between being indoors or outdoors; we were in both spaces at once, a perfect hybrid of elegance and nature.

And then, suddenly, they were married. There had been laughter during the vows, a sweet accidental overlap when they both started to say "I do" a beat too soon, and plenty of happy tears. You couldn’t help but smile watching Sophie lean into DoJohn while they said their goodbyes to the officiant, now husband and wife. They looked every bit like they knew what they were getting into, and they were absolutely thrilled about it.

Later, as they posed grinning outside the chapel—just the two of them, gleaming with that kind of unfiltered joy you can’t manufacture—you could tell: this was exactly what a wedding should feel like. Light. Kind. Cheering. They were wrapped up in the buoyancy of the moment, and we, their lucky guests, got to drift along with them.

There were toasts and dancing, ridiculously good cupcakes, and a bubble sendoff as they made their way toward their getaway car. But what lingers most from that day isn't the details. It's how the whole thing just felt right—as easy as a breeze through an open chapel wall, as warm as Sophie’s laughter echoing across the lawn.

It was a happy day. A nice-outside, cheerful kind of day. A perfect day to say yes.