I attended a family wedding last weekend, and the sister of the bride gave a great toast.

I heard her round up her brothers as the cake was being served, saying, “Now is the time. Somebody has to say something.” They looked glum and stricken, and left their wine glasses on the table as they followed her to the center of the tent.

I thought to myself, “This is going to be hard. There are a hundred people yammering and drinking. Music is playing. Some people are dancing.” But I was wrong.

Lizzy tapped a wine glass with a fork. The crowd came to a hush. Somebody turned the music off, and Lizzy said what was on her mind.

It wasn’t fancy, clever, prepared, or eloquent. Just real. Sincere. Simple. Felt. She was happy for her sister and happy that so many family members had come to witness and support the marriage.

She stood still. She projected her voice. She was able to think while she was speaking, and she seemed completely comfortable.

The brothers didn’t need to say a thing. Any more would have been overkill. We clapped. The music returned, and I went back to work on my piece of cake, impressed with Lizzie’s grace, her sentiment, and the fact that her remarks were brief and unadorned.