We Found Our Wedding Venue

And It Finally Made Everything Click

When Sean and I first started talking about wedding planning, I honestly don’t think either of us anticipated how emotional the logistics of it all would feel. Not emotional in a dramatic way, but emotional in a wow, life is just different now kind of way.

Because unlike a lot of weddings we’ve attended over the years, ours comes with a layer we can’t ignore: our families and closest friends are spread across opposite sides of the country, and with that comes real life.

Jobs.
Kids.
Limited PTO.
Budgets.
Schedules.
Responsibilities.

We’ll be the first in both of our families to have a wedding that would require one side to travel, and for a while, that reality carried a surprising amount of weight for us. Granted there is no way around it, but it doesn’t stop the guilt from creeping in. So we thought, what if we made everyone travel? Eliminate the one-side-has-it-easier factor and put everyone on a plane. 

So then it became a question of where. Sean and I both love being on the water. I am by no means a beach girl, but give me a raft, a tube or preferably a boat and I will never leave. Sean was also a collegiate water skier so many of his fondest memories were spent on a boat dicking around. So it was clear from the start that we wanted to get married on water, we just didn’t know where.

How do you create a wedding experience that feels worth asking people to travel for?
How do you make it feel intentional instead of stressful?
How do you balance wanting your dream wedding while also honoring the reality of the people you love most?

For a while, I think we were trying to solve a puzzle instead of planning a marriage celebration. I had told Sean I was happy to reserve the San Francisco Courthouse (which is stunning btw) and host an intimate dinner with our immediate families. I mean it's still 40 people, the size of a small wedding for most, but he gently reminded me that he wouldn’t want us to regret not having our friends and extended family there to celebrate with us. 

And then we found our venue.

A stunning spot right on Lake Coeur d’Alene that somehow immediately shifted our entire perspective. Not because it was just beautiful (although it is stunning), but because it finally felt aligned with what matters most to us: quality time, connection, slowing down, and creating an experience that feels meaningful for everyone involved.

Instead of one quick evening together, it suddenly felt like we could create an entire weekend around the people we love most. Boat days. Long dinners. Coffee by the lake. Friends meeting friends. Family actually getting time together. The kind of moments that don’t happen often when everyone lives so far apart. And for the first time since starting wedding planning, it stopped feeling like a logistical challenge and started feeling like us.

At the same time I still have reservations. For such a large price tag I fear I will be sucked right into the loudness of what wedding culture has become. Since we got engaged I find my algorithm targeted with creating the perfect timeline, the perfect aesthetic, the perfect seating chart, the perfect tablescape, the perfect everything. 

And even for someone who loves a crafty project and putting together a beautiful tablescape, I realized that our energy should be focused on what we want our wedding to feel like rather than what it should look like. 

Because the truth is, we’re not in the same season of life we were in at 25, 28 or even 35. Neither are our friends, and neither are our families. People have careers they’ve worked hard for, babies and school schedules, mortgage payments and limited vacation time. And instead of pretending those realities don’t exist, we are actively trying to plan a wedding that honors them. Not a wedding built around pressure or performance. Not a wedding designed for Instagram moments. Not a weekend where everyone feels rushed from one scheduled event to the next.

We kept coming back to one question: What actually matters to us when we picture this weekend years from now? And the answer was surprisingly simple… time together. Not just one ceremony and one dinner, but actual quality time with the people we love most.

Space to slow down, space for conversations and space for memories that happen in between the scheduled moments. That’s what made Lake Coeur d’Alene feel so right. It feels less like a production and more like an experience. Less pressure to perform and more opportunity to connect.

And that perspective shift changed everything for us.