Say the Magic Words

My son is getting married soon. His second time, her first. They have asked me to say the words that will seal the deal. It's legit: I'm a ULC (Universal Life Church) minister, complete with a certificate and some helpful suggestions about services. For a few extra dollars, I could have had a park-free card for the car. Maybe I'll get one this winter, when the cold makes my hip joints ache.
I have done this marrying stuff before. Once at a winery in Napa, looking out over acres of brand new vineyard, barely greening. Once in someone's living room, with their adult children as attendants. Once at a sweet little church with glorious light, overseen by the real minister and his real wife, who weren't best pleased with this rag tag and bobtail outfit, unfamiliar with the holy use of candles and various folksy additions to the service. No matter, they were happy enough to take the check for rental of the facility. Kind of a religious hot pillow joint.
That's the sum total of my marrying experience. I don't pray and nobody's deity is invoked. And it's over in less than ten minutes, which is usually what the folks want, so they can start partying.
But this time it's my kid and his chosen person. The first time he married, he was the chosen person, though I'm not sure he realized it. She got him in the sights of her love gun when they met in the dormitory, age 19, and she had his pelt nailed to her side before Winter Break.
He called me up sometime during his senior year. "Mom? What does it mean to be engaged?" "Beats me," I resplied. "You're asking the wrong person." Me, I just got married.
Wife #1 once revealed her agenda. Engaged by the end of undergrad. Engaged and living together during masters' study. Married by the time of degree. She stuck to it. She probably had the kids, the migraines, the growing disaffection and the divorce on the agenda, too. I won't ever ask.
The best news is that I like this prospective daughter-in-law. Mostly because she so loves my son, but there are way worse reasons for liking someone. And I'd like to say something brief, thoughtful and worth remembering about the vagaries and quirks of love, the profound pleasure of mutual trust. I'd like not to be quoting Emily Dickinson, Walt Whitman or Shakespeare. Any hints would be appreciated.