Category Archives: Children

Young Love (#121)

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Tuesday, November 25, 1969

Today was the day Nate picked up his new suit, shirt, and tie. His parents knew we were tight financially and had sent a check earlier, instructing him to make the purchases. “You need something fresh for the rehearsal dinner and related events,” they had said. “And not a sport coat. Make it a suit.”

Then they added, “We’ve sent some extra money for you to buy a new pair of pajamas, too – for your honeymoon.”

Nate and I had a long laugh over that one, although he did dutifully buy some sky-blue PJs with white piping around the collar and pocket — in case they asked. Both of us knew those ‘jammies would never make it out of the package.

IMG_5340On this day, the Tuesday of our wedding week, Nate walked in with the finished suit  zippered inside a Carson Pirie Scott garment bag. He’d chosen a dignified charcoal grey that was nicely tailored, and I made him model it — another opportunity to tell him he was the handsome-est, best-lookin’ guy I’d ever met. We did a little dance around the apartment, reveling in the knowledge that we were so close to our wedding weekend.

After that it was time to have a brief but important little ceremony, just the two of us. Many months ago, Nate and I had discussed whether or not we would use birth control after we were married…. and if so, what kind. “The pill” was new and highly controversial, and we weren’t sure it was our best choice.

But as the weeks passed and we researched other options, the pill seemed like the way to go. And many of our married friends were using it without any problems.

Taking BC pillTaking that first one with a swallow of wine, though, felt like starting a ritual I wasn’t sure I should, despite both Nate and I voting in favor. I loved children and had arranged my life to include plenty of them, as far back as I could remember. Taking the pill was saying no to our own babies, and there was a tiny prickle of doubt in the back of my brain. But I swilled it down anyway, looking forward to the years immediately ahead – with just Nate and me. It sounded blissful.

That evening we invited friends John and Cathy to share a soup supper with us. Nate wanted to work on the logistics of our getaway after the reception, and John would be our driver.

IMG_5335We shared some of the post-wedding shenanigans we knew about, including my sister’s experience. Her honeymoon luggage had been “stolen” before the end of the reception, and she wore my dress for their departure – an outfit 2 sizes too big for her. Her suitcase was deposited in Mom and Dad’s driveway in the middle of that night and then quietly brought to Bervin (by me) the next day.

 

Nate and I hoped to make our transition from reception to honeymoon a little smoother than that, with John and Cathy expediting it. They were up for it, without reservations.

John apologized for his old, slightly banged-up “poverty car,” but that didn’t matter to us. “Will it be in the pictures?” he asked.

“It probably will,” Nate said, “but don’t worry. It’ll be dark out.”

So we made a plan to evade mischief-makers, but more than likely they were simultaneously making a plan of their own.

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.” (Proverbs 15:22)

Young Love (#116)

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November 17, 1969

Our school days were busy and went by fast as Nate and I moved through the last full week before a short Thanksgiving week – which would culminate in our wedding!

Although my heart wasn’t always in my classroom work, I loved recess – the perfect time to get rid of all the excess energy I seemed to have. Sometimes I found myself running around like a first-grader, happy to race the kids in games of “Red Rover Come Over” and “Steal the Bacon.”

Merry-go-roundThen one day we had a playground crisis that could have ended in the death of one of my first graders. Our playground had an old merry-go-round that was popular with all the children. On that day, after the girls had all scrambled on board, the boys got the merry-go-round spinning at full speed.

The kids were all squealing with delight when suddenly a little girl’s dress somehow got caught in the center wheel of the merry-go-round. With each revolution the fabric pulled tighter around her neck, and none of the other children noticed.

FullSizeRender(6)Linda’s class and mine shared playground time, and as she and I stood chatting, the merry-go-round wasn’t in her line of vision…. but it was in mine. As it continued to spin, the little girl’s air supply was being cut off tighter and tighter. In a few seconds she was going to be unconscious – and possibly choke to death.

As my brain finally kicked in and I realized what was happening, I bolted toward the merry-go-round yelling for the boys to stop pushing. Together we wrenched the heavy thing to a stop, and I jumped on. With one hand I grabbed the little girl out of the middle of the merry-go-round while yanking her dress up and off the center wheel with the other hand.

She took in a giant gulp of air…. and the crisis was over.

Even though she rallied quickly, I kept a close eye on her throughout the afternoon. She seemed no worse for wear, and gradually the red marks around her neck faded. I wondered if I should mention the incident to her mother —  but knew that if I did tell her, she would worry endlessly about her daughter’s safety after that.

By 3:00, I had decided to let it go by. And if this sweet little girl ever described all the merry-go-round excitement to her parents, I never heard about it.

Back at our apartment when I told Nate the story, he cautioned me to be more vigilant. And in an effort to make me take him seriously, he mentioned the possibility of law suits – as any good law student would.

But I had already learned my lesson.

“Be ready to do whatever is good.” (Titus 3:1)

Young Love (#108)

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November 3–4, 1969

The week began as they all did with Nate and I exchanging wedding work for school work. He was doing well in law school, and my 25 first graders were a constant delight. Ride-sharing with Linda and Judy was also going well and had become more than just a practical way to get to school and back. We were fast becoming friends.

IMG_5268Linda and I often lunched together, but Judy’s students were older and had a different schedule. It was a small school, though, and we ran into each other throughout the day. Linda’s 2nd grade was across the hall from my room, and if I wanted to communicate with her, I’d send one of my students over with a note. We often got silly in those notes, but it was a happy way to stay in touch.

The three of us had much in common. Both Linda and Judy were ahead of me in marriage – at least by a few months. Because of their experience, I asked lots of questions and was especially interested to learn how Nate and I could avoid any misunderstandings or arguments, once we were married.

White waterA pastor-friend had told us there would be surprises, some of them unpleasant. In trying to explain that, he’d said, “Picture two rivers coming together to join as one. At the place where they meet, the water churns, unable to flow in the same direction. Sometimes it gets so intense there’s white-water rapids. But downstream the water has calmed, and the river flows smoothly. The first year of marriage is sort of like that.”

As I lay in bed at night, I thought about what he’d said and everything else I’d been learning about marriage. I wondered if Nate and I would experience that kind of churning as we tried to move in the same direction. Maybe we’d even encounter some white water rapids – a troublesome thought.

And then something happened that surprised us both.

GlassWe had finished dinner, and I was sweeping up under the table when my arm bumped into it. A drinking glass tottered, and though I tried to catch it, it went to the floor – and broke into many pieces. It had no sentimental value and wasn’t one of my favorites, but at the sound of the breaking glass, I burst into tears.

Nate came running from the next room and didn’t know what to do – grab my broom or grab me. He wrapped his arms around both and said, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We can buy another one.”

But his comment had missed the mark. My tears had nothing to do with broken glass and everything to do with an emotional upheaval. “I don’t care about the stupid glass,” I wailed.

Nate sat in a chair, pulling me onto his lap. “Then…. what is it?”

I jumped up with the broom and continued to cry, sweeping glass shards every which way. “I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Nate was desperate to comfort me but didn’t know how. “Has someone hurt you? Or did something happen at school today? Have you heard some bad news?”

“No!” I said, continuing to swing the broom.

He took the broom away from me and sat me down on the chair. “OK then. Just stop for a minute. Tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.”

I put my face in my hands and sobbed so hard I couldn’t talk.

(….to be continued)

“Search me, O God, and know my heart.” (Psalm 139:23)