Newlywed Love (#57)

April 30, 1970

While I waited to hear from the Danville School Board, I decided to get Mom’s sewing machine out of the closet. The plan was to work on something productive each evening, while Nate studied…. rather than just sit and stew.

Back in 7th grade I’d taken a sewing class (compulsory for girls) and learned the basics. The end-product that year was a colorful apron for Mom that tied around the waist.

MeasuringNot much sewing had happened after that, until my friend Lynn began teaching me more. She’d really taken to sewing, and I admired her custom-made skirts, vests, jumpers, and dresses.

Once Nate and I got married, our stripped apartment was desperate for a home-y touch, so I borrowed Mom’s machine and made several sets of curtains for the bare windows. A couple of tablecloths with matching napkins were easy, too — because they were all made with straight lines.

Wanting a challenge, I decided to tackle a cover for the round hassock Mom and Dad had donated. It was brown, and our color scheme (if it could be called that) was anything but. The living room was gold with red accents, dining room mostly green, kitchen orange with yellow. The bedroom was gold, the bathroom black and white.

Using extra red material from the living room curtains, my sewing technique for the hassock was to stretch fabric over the top and cut a circle bigger than that. Then I put the hassock on its side and rolled it once-around, cutting the material accordingly.

Lynn had taught me how to put piping in the middle of a seam, so I added black piping to the red material. When my measurement turned out to be too short, I cut it in half, tried again, and put more piping between the halves to disguise my error.

Hassock and floor pillow

Nate applauded the result — careful not to inspect for mistakes – and encouraged me to sew more. I covered a big floor pillow to match the hassock, adding tassels at the corners and a button in the middle.

That was followed by a bed skirt with matching bed pillow, and 3 table runners.

Still, my seam-work was mostly straight lines. That’s when I attempted to make a dress. Lynn suggested I use a simple pattern put out by a company called… “Simplicity.”

I chose kiwi green fabric and got to work. Because I wanted a floor-length dress but nothing fancy, I chose a new-fangled material called “Perma-Press.” Supposedly it could be washed and would never need ironing .

Green dressMy piping skills transferred nicely to a little lace, and Lynn taught me how to pleat the front through long distance phone instruction. A few buttons finished it off.

Best of all, the sewing occupied my thoughts for many days – keeping them off the Danville teaching job.

“Be still in the presence of the Lord, and wait patiently for him to act.” (Psalm 37:7)

Newlywed Love (#55)

April 22, 1970

Good friendsNate and I spent many evenings with our friends Cathy and John, sharing dinners, coffee times late at night, and Saturday morning breakfasts.

Cathy loved to cook, and I was better at baking. So she’d make a casserole or other one-dish dinner, and I’d supply dessert. Nate was happy to make strong coffee, and these simple meals were the catalyst for some memorable times.

We never ran out of things to talk about, and often the topic was theology. Neither Cathy nor John had much interest in church, but they were always ready to chat about the Bible in what amounted to thought-provoking discussions. All 4 of us loved the friendly debates.

Not a day went by that we didn’t check in with each other. But there was one special call I was eagerly awaiting – the one announcing their cat Jeanette was in labor.

Then one Wednesday it came.

Nate was at the law library when I picked up the phone and Cathy said, “Come right over! Jeanette’s having her babies, and the first one has just been born!”

An invitationI dashed off a note for Nate, climbed in our noxious Mustang for the short drive, and walked into Cathy’s living room in time to see kitten #2 arrive. Jeanette didn’t mind us gawking at her as she labored, seemingly without pain. We marveled at how her mid-section balled up in a contraction, but not once did she whimper or meow.

“Apparently animals have it easier than humans,” I said.

We watched baby #3 emerge, and as with the others, Jeanette licked it with such vigor she literally flipped it over and over. The kitten didn’t mind at all.

Though their eyes were closed, each one belly-crawled straight to their mama’s mid-section where warm milk was waiting. This same three-step process happened with all of them: birth, bath, and chow.

Kitten #4 completed the family, and once they were all nestled together with a sleepy Jeanette, Cathy, John, and I celebrated with Diet Rite Colas.

New baby.Nate, who chose to study rather than observe the birthing process, had warned me about bonding with the kitties. “You probably shouldn’t give them names or anything like that,” he had said. After all, he was a dog person, and we’d already agreed our first choice for a pet would be a puppy.

When I got home, he stopped working long enough to listen attentively to my blow-by-blow account of the evening. “It was amazing!” I said. “And those kittens are sooo adorable! You’ll just have to get over to see them.”

“And,” I added, “all 4 of them are going to need good homes.”

“The life of every living thing is in [the Lord’s] hand.” (Job 12:10)

Newlywed Love (#54)

April 19, 1970

The school year was rushing to a close, which was bittersweet for Linda, Judy, and I. Our 80-mile round trip commute had amounted to 8 hours of chat-time each week, and somewhere along the way we had become fast friends. Linda and I, sharing a lunch hour, had even found a nearby park where springy weather beckoned.

Lunch breakSitting (or lying) on a sheet, we’d munch on water-packed tuna with crackers while soaking up the sunshine. Never mind that our quiet spot was next to an interstate overpass. To us it was a mini-vacation in the middle of a teaching day.

One evening we three couples gathered at our apartment for a fondue dinner. In the course of the evening, Linda and Ron, Judy and Bill each shared plans for the big changes coming after the school year ended. As we talked about these uncertainties, one of the girls said, “Sometimes my head hurts just thinking about it all.”

Nate and I shot a glance at each other. “Your head hurts?” he said. “You mean like a headache?”

Judy and BillWithin a few minutes we learned that all three of us were experiencing the same regular headaches. Fascinated by this discovery, we talked further and figured out they only came on school days, never weekends.

(Left: Judy and Bill)

“I wonder if we’re allergic to something at school?” I said. “Like paint? Or mold?”

Although the headaches occurred only on weekdays, it wasn’t all weekdays. That eliminated the allergy theory. But we agreed they seemed to come in waves, several days at a time, followed by several days without them.

Linda and RonAfter swapping more stories and recalling dates, we concluded the headaches came only during the weeks I drove. And there was God’s answer for question #1 when we’d asked what was causing them. Answer? Our “cool” Mustang.

(Right: Linda and Ron)

We decided on a test. Nate and I would swap cars the next week, and I would drive the carpool in his VW. He would take the Mustang to campus, a much shorter commute.

At the end of the week we knew we were right – no Mustang, no headaches.

Nate took the car to an auto shop, explaining the problem while we kept our fingers crossed that it would be something simple and cheap.

Before long the mechanic called. “I found your problem,” he said. “There’s exhaust leaking directly into the car. Your wives were experiencing carbon monoxide poisoning.”

Nate and I felt terrible, promising our friends the Mustang would be completely repaired before any further commutes.

But once it was fixed and I resumed driving it, the headaches returned. In great frustration Nate took it back to the shop. The mechanic made another repair, but that one failed too — along with a third. Finally Nate promised our discouraged friends that the Mustang would never again make the run to Danville.

It would be hard telling Dad of our misfortune, especially since we hadn’t yet paid him back for his loan to buy the Mustang. But the hard truth was, we were back in the car-shopping business. And that was God’s answer to question #2 when we’d asked what needed to be done.

“Call to me and I will answer you and tell you…. things you do not know.” (Jeremiah 33:3)