October 27 – 29, 1969

Although both Nate and I slipped quickly back into our work routines, we began the week knowing we’d be driving the 156 miles back to Wilmette on Friday. There was still a tall stack of wedding invitations to address and mail.

Sheet music needed to be sent to the 7 bridesmaids so they could memorize their singing parts, and we needed to figure out their headpieces. I hadn’t had the final fitting on my gown, and Nate had to work on the tuxes, getting the sizes from each of the men.

We needed to meet with the photographer and sit down with the pastor. Figuring out the order of service and writing up a program was on the long to-do list, too, as well as checking with the bridesmaids to see how they were doing sewing their gowns.

I needed to find hostesses for our reception supper in the church basement and chat again with the caterer. Mary and I wanted to shop together for wedding shoes and a few things to pack for the honeymoon. And coming from a family that loved to play jokes on people, we needed to find a getaway driver that could be trusted.

Through the week it was difficult to stay focused on teaching my first graders to read while my mind was on the wedding. My little girls quickly picked up on the excitement and peppered me with questions.

“What does your wedding dress look like, Miss Johnson? Will you have a veil? Is there a flower girl? What will she wear? Can we come?”

During free time they drew pictures of brides and grooms, wanting me to take them all home – which I did. When I told them my groom was keenly interested in their artwork, they beamed and ran for the crayons. On the playground I found myself running around with the kids as if I was one of them, full of happy energy.

One thing the children didn’t like, though, was that I’d soon be changing my name. “But you’re Miss Johnson,” they said. I had them practice repeating “Mrs. Nyman,” insisting it would still be me, but most of them turned up their noses and said, “We’re gonna call you Miss Johnson anyway.”

Nate and I bought pumpkins and carved them in our tiny kitchen, enjoying every minute together. The mailbox continued to bring fun messages from loved ones. My Uncle Edward from California (Aunt Joyce’s husband) wrote:

“My Magee – We sure look forward to the BIG event and a chance to meet Nate, with whom I must now share my love and affection. I do remember you both daily and am REAL happy for both of you. When you need me, call me collect!”

When he said he “remembered us daily,” he meant in prayer – an awesome gift. Blessing was pouring toward us from all directions, and in our nightly prayer times we couldn’t help but be overwhelmed.

“Give thanks for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Ephesians 5:20)