Category Archives: God’s plans for us

Young Love (#114)

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November 15, 1969

Nate and I decided to spend the weekend in Champaign. The only wedding detail left to tend to in Wilmette was the groom’s cake, and Mom said her lady-friends were looking forward to taking care of that in a few days.

Groom's cake boxesThe 104 pounds of fruit cake had arrived, and they planned to cut it into 500 pieces, wrap each one in Saran, fill the boxes, and cushion the cake with tiny strips of tissue. It sounded like lots of unnecessary work, but Mom had her heart set on sending each wedding guest home with a “favor.”

I still hadn’t picked up my wedding gown from a shop in suburban Chicago after its final alteration, but they promised it would be ready a few days before November 29. I tried not to stress about it.

There was one wedding detail, though, that Mom insisted I do her way, without even considering my opinion. Years earlier, she and Dad had been on a trip to Sweden, returning with rave reviews about what Swedish brides were wearing on their heads: small gold crowns. Since Dad was 100% Swedish and Mom was half, she had decided to bring that tradition to America – and bought a crown.

One day after Mary was engaged, Mom took us into her room and carefully pulled a blue velvet box down from her closet shelf, while briefing us on the new family tradition she was about to start. She described the pretty Swedish brides and then said, “Many of the state churches there own a crown so that any girl from the congregation can wear it on her wedding day. And guess what. We now have our very own crown!”

The crownGently she pulled it from the box to show us – a small gold headpiece with 12 large points and 12 small ones, each topped with a cultured pearl.

“Through the years,” she said, “all the brides in our extended family can wear it, and we’ll be sharing an important tradition with each other and also with our Swedish relatives.”

Mary and I looked at each other that day, unsure about whether or not we wanted to be “crowned” on our wedding days. But Mom was sure, so all we could do was smile and nod.

Mary is crowned.When Mary’s wedding day arrived in 1967 (right), she walked down the aisle with that crown on her head, and our cousin Gloria wore it again in 1968.

In 1969 it was my turn, and though I’d envisioned my veil attached to something lacy and sparkly, I followed in the cooperative footsteps of the other two brides – and agreed to wear the crown. Actually, it felt good to please Mom, after all she’d done for us.

 

I had only one reservation. With short hair and a veil that would be longer than my train, how was that crown going to stay on my head?

“Work at living in peace with everyone…” (Hebrews 12:14)

Young Love (#113)

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November 14, 1969

Young people in their 20’s are living through the most exhilarating decade their lives will ever know. Some are graduating from college, traveling the world, choosing careers, entering the military. Others are getting married, having babies, buying homes, adapting to community life. Spiritual commitments are often made (or unmade) during this decade, and 20-somethings literally pass from childhood to adulthood.

20-somethingsNate and I were no exception. We never ran out of stimulating things to talk about.

Where should he apply for his first lawyer-job? Should we live in a big city? A suburb? A small town? Should we move to his home town? To mine? To a new part of the country? Where should I work? Or should I go back to school? Should we have children? If so, how many?

We were euphoric as we talked about our options. Life had no restrictions, and it seemed we could do anything we wanted. But this belief in unlimited choices, though typical of our age group, had its dangers. In our case it turned out to be too much gazing at the un-decided’s while ignoring one of the decided’s.

3.40It was Friday evening, and Nate and I enjoyed a glass of wine celebrating the many happy decisions ahead of us. Before we knew it, it was 2:00 AM – and then past 3:00. We began to rationalize how practical it would be for Nate to stay in the apartment till breakfast, only a few hours away.

Though we had a rule against him spending the night, most of the night had already passed. Besides, we’d stuck with our decision to remain sexually pure through lots of tempting moments. So we decided he could stay – promising each other we’d “be good.”

But that’s the thing about temptation. The devil whispers a mix of truth and lies into our ears, and before long we’ve stepped over a line we were determined not to cross.

With our inhibitions down because of the wine, our hugging and kissing started to get out of hand. Nate began whispering, “I probably shouldn’t stay.” I responded, “You probably should go.” But neither of us had the will power to pull apart. That’s when something very strange happened.

God has promised to provide an escape hatch when we’re having trouble resisting temptation, and on that Friday, Nate and I were having trouble. Right then, God delivered.

Out of nowhere I heard a car door slam down on the street, and a vivid picture popped into my muzzy mind: Mom…. arriving for a surprise visit.

Logic would say, “Impossible! It’s after 3:00 AM!” But Mom had pulled some pretty crazy stunts in her time. I sat bolt upright and said, “Quick! Grab your shoes and run for the back door! I think Mom’s here!”

“What?” he said in his confusion as he rolled off the Murphy bed and did what I asked. When I heard the back door close behind him, I knew he was headed for his car and his rented room.

I lay there quietly in the dark, waiting to hear Mom’s tap on the front door…. but it never came.

CerealIn a few hours, Nate returned for breakfast. Both of us agreed we’d had a close call – and were thankful for God’s odd but effective “way of escape.” Feeling humbled, we again determined to save our first sex for our wedding night – only 15 days away.

“There’s a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.” (Ecclesiastes 3:5)

Young Love (#111)

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November 6-9, 1969

After my unexpected breakdown was behind us, it was as if we were beginning afresh. I felt weightless, and though I didn’t need further confirmation that Nate and I were doing the right thing, it came anyway.

In the mailbox was a letter from Mom. It warmed me to read how particularly happy she was about her future son-in-law:

Dear Daughter – this you’ll always be. Hallelujah! You are enriching our lives by giving us a son-in-law. And this is the only route grandchildren can arrive. Wouldn’t you agree that God is blessing us “above all we can ask or think” this Nov. 29?

From MomShe went on to say the invitations had all been mailed that day (interesting timing after our yesterday), and final arrangements had been made on the flowers and music. A 5-piece string group was ready to play, and Mom had copied and sent sheet music to the 7 bridesmaids so they could begin practicing.

Ring bearer's pillowOur friend Anna had made a delicate satin and pearl pillow with our initials on it for the ring bearer to carry. Someone else had crafted a beautiful garter of blue lace and pearls, and my 3 former apartment-mates had agreed to hostess the reception along with 2 second cousins and a college pal. The 6 of them were also willing to sew their own floor-length skirts out of the velvet left over from bridesmaids’ gowns. I loved knowing everyone would match.

Enthusiasm from California continued to come to our mailbox, and Aunt Joyce wrote a meaty response to the unusual way we came into our bedroom furniture:

How absolutely and only like our Heavenly Father to care for you and Nate, His children, with bedroom furniture and all. He says, “If we cast our bread on the waters, He will return it,” and we learn from experience that not only does He return the bread, but it comes back all buttered and jammed.

 Then she wrote:

I love hearing about Nate. And “Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Nyman” sounds pretty good!

4th showerEverything was falling together, and one more bridal shower was scheduled for the weekend, this one in Nate’s home town. We left Champaign on Friday, anxious to reconnect with his parents. All the table-talk was of the wedding, and Nate’s mother showed me the gown she’d had made for the occasion – a deep chestnut-colored, floor-length velvet skirt with sparkling gold top. Completely elegant.

FullSizeRender(2)On Saturday at the shower I met several of Nate’s close relatives, including one first cousin who had recently married, too. (Above, right, with Nate’s mother [pouring], and his aunt.) His mother’s dearest friends were all there, and the event was beautifully ap- pointed with silver and crystal. Guests had gone together on a group gift, purchasing 5 pieces of our registered sterling flatware – no small ticket item.

Gorgeous handwritingThe senior Nymans would be hosting our wedding rehearsal dinner at a club near Moody Church, close enough for us to walk after rehearsing. Nate’s father, who had a gorgeous script, had hand-written invitations for each family attending – more than 50 people, including the parents of the 4 former kindergartners who would be participating in the wedding. It would be a party unto itself, and we were grateful Nate’s folks were willing.

As Nate and I arrived back in Champaign that Sunday evening, we counted only 20 days until we would be Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Nyman. And Aunt Joyce had been right….

That sounded pretty good!

“May he grant your heart’s desires.” (Psalm 20:4)