Category Archives: God’s plans for us

Young Love (#109)

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November 4, 1969

One of the major adjustments to marriage is learning to live with someone of the opposite sex. Most people have had roommates, but usually college-style – girls with girls, and guys with guys.

Nate was getting his first dose of the emotional difference between women and men as he watched me fall apart. The crying wasn’t as upsetting to him as the not knowing what to do. Try as he might, he couldn’t figure it out. And I either wouldn’t or maybe couldn’t tell him what was wrong.

Finally I said, “What if we’re making a mistake!”

“What kind of mistake?”

“Getting married I mean! I don’t know! I don’t know!”

There was a long pause, and I realized my crisis had just become Nate’s, too.

I continued sobbing. “The invitations are going out, and I’m not sure anymore!”

envelopesJust a few days before this we had talked about neither of us having any second thoughts and how great that was. Over the months God had reassured us again and again that he was in favor of our union. And both families were enthusiastic about our plans. So what was the problem?

Sitting down next to me, Nate put his arm around me and calmly said, “I want you to know there is nothing that can’t be stopped or unwound. The invitations haven’t been sent. And they don’t have to be.”

I’m sure his heart was pounding as he watched me unravel. No doubt he wondered if our relationship was unraveling, too. But if he was panicky, he never let it show.

BoxesI swept my arm toward our wall of gift boxes and kept going. “Yes, but what about all those? Oh my word…”

“All those gifts can be returned,” he said, pulling me close. “Don’t worry about any of that. We can fix it all. And there’s no law that says we have to get married on November 29.”

My only response was whimpering and sniffling. Nate reached in his pocket and gave me the handkerchief he always carried. Twisting that in my hands seemed to bring a measure of calm.

We sat this way for a long time without saying anything more. Nate never stopped holding me firmly, a powerful example of “love is patient.”

He waited for me to say something, and finally I did. “Am I going crazy?”

“Not at all. I think lots of people get nervous about getting married. It’s very natural.”

“Yeah, but…. it’s usually the guy,” I said, giving him a weak smile.

“Not this guy,” he said, kissing me on the forehead.

I buried my face in his chest. “I’m worried that marriage might be harder than we think, and we might be disappointed. You might be disappointed…. in me.”

“Never,” he said. “Each day that goes by, I love you more and more. Whatever comes along, we’ll be able to work it out. I know we will. I’m sure of that.”

The only thing I could think to do was grab onto him and hold on tight.

(…to be continued)

“When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer.” (Psalm 94:19)

Young Love (#103)

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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.

MusicSheet 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?”

The brideDuring 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.”

PumpkinsNate 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!”

Uncle Edward.

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)

Young Love (#102)

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October 26, 1969

 

As Nate and I drove back to Champaign from Wilmette, we needed to make a decision about my safety in the apartment. Living alone until we were married had left me vulnerable when several young men had attempted to break in. Nate expressed extreme concern, telling me it was his job to protect me. But neither of us knew how to fix the problem.

One bedHe could move in with me, but both of us knew we wouldn’t be able to resist each other physically, especially since we only had one bed – the one that pulled out of a closet. And we both wanted to hold out until we were married (which was already difficult enough). To compromise after we’d come this far seemed like too big a defeat.

As the miles clicked away, we discussed our options:

  1. Nate could move in with me, and we could try to maintain purity.
  2. We could continue to live separately and hope no further incidents occurred.
  3. I could advertise for a roommate on the university bulletin board (for one month).
  4. We could trust God to protect me.
  5. I could be more diligent about locking both locks on both doors.

The thought of option #1 brought immediate comfort to both of us. But to do that was to make a decision based on the fear something bad was going to happen. I liked the sound of #4. If I continued to live alone, counting on God to protect me as he already had, we could also count on him protecting our desire to wait for sex till marriage.

I said, “After all, those guys didn’t get in. And I wasn’t hurt.”

“Yes, but you were hurt emotionally.” Nate said. “Both of us were.”

“But, I know God will heal all of that.” I said. “He will.”

“But what if something else happens? And what if God chooses not to step in? I would feel like it was my fault…. again.”

“I guess we have to believe that if that ever happened, he’d walk us through a recovery then, too.”

Besides, it wasn’t just in the apartment that bad things could happen. And it wasn’t just to me. Nate could become a victim, too. There were no guarantees about safety.

DowntownWhen we pulled up to our apartment, we were still hashing it out. After making multiple trips up the stairs with our gift boxes, we finally sat down and looked at each other. The time had come to decide. I felt completely bonded to Nate and knew he would do anything to keep me from suffering in any way. But as I studied his face, I could see he was going to let me make the final decision.

In the end, I opted for a combo of numbers 2, 4, and 5. We would continue living separately, relying on God for protection (wherever we were), and would be more diligent about locking doors.

When Nate finally drove away that night, for the first time I thought it best not to stand in front of the window and wave.

“The Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.” (2 Thessalonians 3:3)