Category Archives: God’s plans for us

Young Love (#123)

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Thursday, November 27, 1969

Helen C.It was Thanksgiving, and the wedding count-down stood at 2 days. We all had much to be thankful for, starting with knowing we didn’t have to cook a big turkey dinner. Our whole bunch had been invited to the home of Helen Carlstone, a lifelong friend of both Mom’s and Aunt Joyce’s.

We knew we would fill her Chicago home to capacity, but that didn’t bother her. “We’ll make it work!” she said. So as she and her family focused on preparing a mid-afternoon, multi-course meal, the rest of us turned back to wedding stuff.

 

JulieAunt Joyce took on the bridesmaids’ headpieces. Though she didn’t have much to work with, she created wide, pink velvet ribbons the girls could drape over their heads with a knot in the middle. She had 7 of them finished in no time, and they would be simple enough to work with any hairdo. (Left: Bridesmaid Julie models.)

Nate appeared at noon, excited that he’d gotten a look at our wedding bands during his overnight stay with his family. His father, owner of a jewelry store, had ordered them for us, passing along a nice discount. “I can’t wait till we have them on,” Nate whispered.

After an elegant Thanksgiving dinner, we all pushed back from the table(s) completely satisfied. Helen had warmly welcomed Nate’s parents and brother to her dinner, too, after which we all readied to attend the Moody Church Thanksgiving concert.

But first, we “kids” headed to the basement to do battle with the Carlstone’s ever-popular ping-pong table. Several lively games of Round Robin helped to work off a bit of our pumpkin pie, and it was refreshing to do something physical for a change.

As we drove to church, Nate leaned over and said, “Just before we ate, did you see Helen reach into the oven and pull out the turkey pan with her bare hands? She must have hands of asbestos!”

RoasterI assured him that the bird was probably just keeping warm in a very low oven, but he didn’t believe me. “Right out of the oven!” he said. “I’ll never forget it.” And he didn’t, referring to Helen’s wonder-hands many times after that.

The concert was a time of rest as we focused on God through heart-stirring music about him. When I looked down the row, though, Mom was sketching something on her bulletin – the front of the church and where she thought each member of the wedding party should stand. In less than 48 hours, we’d all be in those places.

Back in Wilmette, we dove into Phase Two of gift-opening, this time with Nate’s family and our California people on hand. Aunt Joyce recorded each gift and giver in a book, as Nate and I opened and opened. As she wrote on page after page, both of us were powerfully impacted (for the first time) that our little apartment was about to be lavishly equipped.

Grand openingWe unwrapped dishes, silverware, glasses, blankets, sheets, kitchen utensils, pots, pans, small appliances, fondue pots, crystal, silver, absolutely everything our presently-sparse little nest could possibly need…. and then-some.

It was a mystery why neither of us had made the connection between sending out invitations and piles of gift-boxes arriving at the door. Why hadn’t we put that together? Whatever the reason, on this night, after a blessed Thanksgiving Day, opening so many gifts made a dramatic impression on both of us. We just couldn’t get over it.

“My heart is filled with joy. I burst out in songs of thanksgiving.” (Psalm 28:7)

Young Love (#122)

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Wednesday, November 26, 1969

The pace was quickening as Nate and I headed for our wedding day. Driving 40 miles each way to school seemed silly for the half day of classes before Thanksgiving break began, but my carpool buddies and I made the trip.

During the morning, Principal Scarce visited my classroom, wishing me (and the first graders) a happy holiday break. He stayed to chat for a few minutes, and I sensed he was feeling bad about limiting Nate’s and my honeymoon days.

“After you return to school,” he said, “my wife and I want to have you and your new husband over for dinner some night. We’ll invite the other teachers, too, and we’ll celebrate your marriage.”

Apparently he’d forgiven me for my part in ditching the teacher training meetings earlier, which meant more to me than his invitation. But I thanked him and said Nate and I would look forward to that occasion.

00000015When I walked in the door of our apartment, Nate greeted me wearing a WILD pair of psychedelic pants. “How do you like these?” he said, turning around.

“Uh…. maybe for the rehearsal dinner?” I said, thinking of his parents and the new suit.

“In today’s mail,” he said. “From your sister!”

The pants were full of 1960’s wisdom: Flower Power, Hang Loose, Gimme Some Skin. It was Mary’s colorful way of joining in on all the happiness of these special days. And she used two of her many talents to send Nate’s gift: her shopping expertise and her generosity.

Before we left for Wilmette, I made a long distance call to the bridal shop to make sure my gown had arrived. “Friday for sure,” they said. I was stunned. That was cutting it pretty close, but I was powerless to speed things up. I reminded them my wedding was Saturday, and with profuse apologies, they told me not to worry.

Grabbing our double-packed bags, we headed for the stairs but not without stopping at the front door first. “Just think,” Nate said. “The next time we come to this door, I’ll be carrying you across the threshold…. as my wife!”

A thrilling thought – that called for putting the suitcases down and sharing a few kisses in that special place. Nate held me extra-tight, and I knew what he was thinking. That threshold-moment was a moment he’d dreamed about far longer than I had, waiting patiently through nearly 3 years. And it was almost here.

Wrapped in his arms there, I was very thankful he’d been so patient.

After we arrived at my parents’ home, the celebrating began in earnest. My California relatives were there, and I had the special joy of introducing my man to all of them. It was especially lovely to watch Aunt Joyce connect with him. Though they’d never met, she’d been praying enough to already feel close.

IMG_5337After we all shared dinner, Nate and I began opening gifts that had come in response to the wedding invitations. (Right: Aunt Agnes folds wrapping paper) When it came time for Nate to say goodbye in order to spend the night with his parents and brother at a nearby Holiday Inn, we’d hardly made a dent in the pile. We were being engulfed by love.

“Love comes from God. Anyone who loves is a child of God and knows God.” (1 John 4:7)

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)