Category Archives: God’s plans for us

Young Love (#88)

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September 3-4, 1969

 

Nate on Murphy bed.Nate and I were having fun “playing house” as we arranged and rearranged our few possessions, enjoying every minute. Although we didn’t have a bedroom set, we did have the bed that pulled down from an upright position in the closet. It was made with swoopy metal bands attached to springs that had seen their better day and felt more like a hammock than a bed. But there was nothing wrong with hammocks.

These days of settling into our little home were deeply satisfying for both of us, and we personalized much of what we owned with the wonder of a new invention called Contact paper.

Contact paper.But very soon our days would no longer be our own. School was about to start for both of us, and after that it would be nose-to-the-grindstone.

The Danville school district held an orientation meeting for teachers, and the reality of my upcoming teaching task began to weigh heavily. I needed encouragement, and just at my lowest point, the Lord delivered it.

 

 

Two of the other teachers at the orientation meeting were first-timers, too, both scheduled at McKinley School where I would be teaching, and both in the same distance-predicament I was – living in Champaign and working in Danville.

As we were getting acquainted over the reality of our 80-mile commute, we simultaneously came up with the same thought: Let’s carpool!

JudyLinda

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Judy (left), Linda, and I decided that very day to work out a driving schedule. Judy and I would drive on alternate weeks, and Linda would help with gas. It was a good arrangement and gave all of us a psychological boost.

Linda would be teaching 2nd grade, Judy 6th, and I had 1st. Right away I sensed we would become close buddies and felt a rush of optimism about the coming year. We met our principal that day, along with the other four teachers in our school, and all of us could hardly wait to meet our students.

The district also passed out copies of curriculum for each grade level, and at last I had a map to direct me through the unfamiliar territory of 1st grade.

Driving the 40 miles home, my nervousness about the school year completely melted away. I couldn’t wait to tell Nate all about the day. And something else happened as I drove along on I-74. It occurred to me for the first time how much fun it was going to be to come home to Nate every day. From here on we would be sharing our lives, not just in letters and phone calls and occasional kisses but up close and personal, day to day…. and night to night.

When I finally got home and climbed the stairs to our apartment, Nate was at the door ready to deliver an abundance of those kisses, and I felt an overwhelming whoosh of joy wrapped inside his arms.

Then suddenly he stepped back and said, “And guess what! We just got our first mail!”

Our first mailHe reached into his pocket and pulled out a postcard addressed to “Occupant” at our address…. and our “Apartment 6.” We danced around our newly-rugged living room with a burst of joy, realizing we finally had our very own address, just for the two of us.

But as I drank in the happy, handsome face of my groom, giddy with love for him, a wisp of worry floated across my mind —

With all this freedom and privacy, would we be able to resist each other until our wedding night?

“Wait for the Lord; be strong, and let your heart take courage; wait for the Lord!” (Psalm 27:14)

Young Love (#86)

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September 1, 1969

 

Nate and I were getting closer to the start of a new school year in Champaign – him is law school, me as a teacher. After a double birthday party in Wilmette for my brother Tom and our Dad, the next event was seeing Tom off to college in the East. He had transferred from Wheaton to American University and would be driving to Washington DC the day after his party. We wouldn’t see him again until Thanksgiving.

Bye bye TomMom was clearly having trouble letting go – her baby, a first son, the boy who’d arrived after doctors said “no more,” the child born on her husband’s 50th birthday. Her words were that Tom wasn’t ready to launch, but the truth? She wasn’t ready.

Tom was thrilled to be spreading his wings. After a breakfast together, we waved him off, and I wondered how Mom would cope. When he’d been a Wheaton student, she’d made frequent visits to his campus 25 miles from home. She would do his laundry, bring his favorite foods, drive him home for weekends – in other words, continue as a strong presence. Now there would be 1000 miles between them, and it was a blow to her.

I didn’t understand that at all. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have anything to do.

Bible study girls.She was the every-week organist at Moody Church (two Sunday services, Wednesday prayer meetings, Thursday choir practices). She ran 4 children’s choirs. She cooked dinner at the church for over 100 people every week and taught a Sunday school class of high school girls (left). She hosted a young people’s Bible study at her house.

The church was 45 minutes from home, but that didn’t stop her from driving there repeatedly each week to practice on the 4-keyboard organ, nor did it keep her from attending many other church meetings – such as Missionaides, a group that sewed for missionaries. Each week en route to that, she’d pick up a crowd of elderly ladies who wanted to go but didn’t drive.

Kids galore.She accompanied at scores of weddings and funerals, entertained weekly at home, welcomed youth groups for their socials (right), and spent time memorizing entire books of the Bible. (That was why she kept pages of Scripture rubber-banded to her steering wheel.)

Mom was also managing the redecorating of their new home, painting every room herself. She was shopping for carpeting, drapes, appliances, and furniture with the goal of having it all in place before our November wedding.

Oh… and she was planning that wedding. With everything else going on, it had sunk to the bottom of her long list, and as it turned out, mine, too. Nate and I were on the verge of moving out of town when it finally dawned on me why my parents had wanted us to wait a year before getting married. But it was too late to worry about that now.

UnloadingNext on our agenda was to load up again, clock those 156 miles back to Champaign, unload (with law school friends, left), and prepare for a new school year.

As for the wedding? It would come together eventually…. somehow.

“Nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37)

Young Love (#85)

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August 28-31, 1969

 

During our 10 days of counseling at Camp Moyoca, Nate and I got attached to our high school campers, even the obstreperous ones, and both of us were glad we’d had the chance to spend time with them. For me it was also a treat to work alongside old buddies again, and for Nate it was a chance to meet them.

Water skiing.I also loved getting to water ski again, and both of us found it satisfying to sit alongside “our kids” at late-night campfires listening to their testimonies of new commitments to Christ.

Nate referred to these 10 days as “a spiritual experience of depth,” and I was pleased at how well he managed his cabin-full of boisterous boys. (No doubt his recent military training factored in.)

Jim.It was pure pleasure to watch him stockpile experiences at “my” camp, knowing that in years to come if I spoke of old memories there, he would understand. And one other perk was that when the last day came, a lifelong friendship with the camp director, Jim Gwinn, had begun.

Just after the camp bus pulled away carrying campers back to the city, Nate and I had to race away, too. It was his turn to stand up in a friend’s wedding, and this time the ceremony was back in the Champaign area.

Those 156 miles were becoming a regular gig for us, and we went straight from camp to the groom’s house, where Nate tried on his white tux and was brought up to speed on wedding details.

Bob and Roseann's wedding.

In our free hours, we headed back to our newly-rented apartment to paint, finishing the first coat and starting the second. The rooms were gradually morphing from turquoise to white, taking on a fresh, clean look.

Painting the apt.Back home Mom and Dad were assembling pieces of hand-me-down furniture and a small stove for us. They were also donating the old carpeting from their new home (the tenant beneath us would be appreciative), and an aunt was contributing a couch.

Mom had arranged to borrow a giant van from friends, and our apartment paint needed to be dry before they arrived. So after the weekend’s wedding festivities, Nate and I painted long into the night to get the job completed, tackling those 156 miles afterwards to make it home in time for the annual double birthday party for Dad and Tom – both born on September 1st.

Everything was coming together nicely, except for one thing. My new first graders would be walking into their classroom in just a few days, and I hadn’t decorated a single bulletin board – much less made a teaching plan for Day #1.

“Be a good worker, one who does not need to be ashamed.” (2 Timothy 2:15)