Young Love (#82)

August 15-16, 1969

As we readied to drive the 156 miles from Champaign back to Wilmette, Nate and I reflected on everything that had happened since we’d left. We had found a room for him to rent until the wedding, signed the lease on an apartment that would become our first home as Mr. & Mrs., and most importantly, secured a teaching job for me. Not bad for two day’s work.

Ready to paint.Just before leaving, we stopped at a hardware store and bought several cans of paint, dropping them off at our new address: 620 Healey Street, Champaign. The apartment walls were swimming-pool-blue, which wasn’t going to blend too well with our registry choices of orange, yellow, and kiwi green. So we knew we had our work cut out for us when we returned.

Once back in Wilmette, we shared our three “finds” with my parents, asking to borrow their VW van to begin moving things to Champaign the next morning. It was only 2½ weeks before the first school day, and we couldn’t wait to get back to our new life together as a couple. At long last our formerly separate paths were converging.

By now Mom and Dad had given up trying to talk sense into us and just shared our joy – especially the part about me finding a job. The one comment Mom did make was, “What about camp?”

“Oh,” I said, “we’re still planning on that. But not till Sunday evening.” (It was Friday.)

The next morning Nate and I, in his car and my folks’ van, headed for my Chicago apartment, and with my roommates’ help, we began carrying things out. That turned out to be far more emotional than I’d anticipated. As we packed up my few possessions (mostly a collection of glass items and a model Corvette) I found myself grieving over the end of this unique phase of life – single working girl in the big city with three fabulous roommates. It had been such a happy time, and I had trouble holding back tears.

Our apartment

Living with Marti, Marsha, and ClarLyn in our garden apartment had been a remarkable phase of life that wouldn’t come around again. And saying goodbye was much harder than I thought it would be.

But these three had been faithful cheerleaders in my initial relationship with Nate, and they generously shared my happiness when we became engaged. I would never forget their enthusiasm and how much it meant to me.

Roommates

As Nate and I left, it was comforting to know the four of us would be together again at the wedding in November. The girls had all agreed to play a part, so as I surrendered my key, this made the parting less painful.

After we’d said goodbye, Nate was ready (as always) with something helpful to say. This time he used the old adage, “The one constant in life is change.” But then he said, “Don’t worry, Meg. It’s all going to turn out just right.” And his warm hug of support cemented that in my mind.

Then we were off – two vehicles pointed toward a new life in Champaign. And we couldn’t wait to get there!

“The Lord will go before you, the God of Israel will be your rear guard.” (Isaiah 52:12)

Young Love (#74)

July 30, 1969

Moving van leavesAfter a moving van had delivered the grand piano, the organ, and all the other large furniture to Mom and Dad’s new house, all of us were emotionally and physically weary.

 

Tired packers

Everybody was looking forward to a good night’s sleep (though I don’t recall where Nate and I actually slept that night), but we decided to wait for Mom and Dad to arrive. When they didn’t come and didn’t come, we began to worry.

Finally, well after midnight, their car pulled into the drive. And when we saw Mom, we knew she had hit a low point. Her eyes were swollen and red from crying – this from a Mom I’d seen cry only twice in my life (once over a niece’s death, and once concerning a church problem).

As soon as they stepped in the door, I held up our “WELCOME HOME” sign, hoping it would cheer her. But it did just the opposite. She burst into tears, throwing her arms around me and saying something like, “God bless you for thinking of your old mother, darling.”

Knowing she was desperate for sleep, we led her into their new bedroom. We had made the bed and turned down the sheets, laying out their fanciest PJs. Candles were burning, music was playing, and we’d put a photo of us 3 kids on the dresser. We were shooting for humor — and as I watched her face, I did see the corners of her mouth turn up a tad, even as tears continued to fall.

Back yardBut poor Dad. His moving decision had been based on logic, as all his decisions were, knowing that empty-nesters didn’t need 5000 square feet of living space. Surely he felt bad watching Mom take it so hard, but having lived with her for 30 years at that point, he knew she would rally. He often said, “Your Ma is an optimist,” and that she was.

Though I had never read Mom’s 1969 journal until I dug it out this week, I was gratified to see what she’d written about that night:

MARGARET RISES TO STAND! BLESS DEAR BABY ANN! [her nickname for me] CARL AND I ARRIVED 1140 [new address] PAST MIDNIGHT, COMPLETELY EXHAUSTED AND EMOTIONIALLY DRAINED. OUR NEW BEDROOM WAS ALL IN ORDER, BEDS MADE WITH GLAMOROUS LINENS, OUR SEXIEST GOWNS LAID OUT, CANDLELIGHT, MUSIC PLAYING, THE CHILDREN’S PICTURE ON THE DRESSER, AND A WELCOME SIGN ON DOOR. Dear, dear Margaret.

After midnight.

I knew when the sun rose, Mom would feel better and would be able to start tackling the wall-to-wall boxes in her living room. What none of us could have guessed, though, was that she had pocketed a front door key to the old house and had already made plans to return there the next day.

Before she could officially say goodbye, she had some unfinished business to tend to.

“May grace and peace be multiplied to you…” (2 Peter 1:2)

Young Love (#73)

July 28-30, 1969

It was the end of July, and our days were crowded with moving tasks as we raced to beat the arrival of the moving van. An orderly transition was complicated by the fact that Mom and Dad’s new, smaller home needed redecorating… and kitchen remodeling… before they could settle in. Though we were gradually filling the rooms with boxes and furniture, nothing would be put in order until much later.

Sale dayMom kept her emotions at bay as she directed traffic in emptying the house. She hadn’t expected the sale to happen so fast, which is evident in her journal. Two months previously, on the day the house sold, she did some positive self-talking. “We know God led in this, every step of the way. With the added time, strength, and money, may it all be to His glory.”

She referred to selling “the house” but not “our home.” Mom believed the old adage, “Home is where the heart is,” and was hoping her heart would quickly catch up to her change of address. And then she wrote,

“Change and decay in all around we see.

Oh Thou who changeth not, abide with me (us).”

The folksMom knew she would eventually adjust to the change, but it was going to take time. Meanwhile, moving day was difficult. Ever the gregarious hostess, she had made friends with the new buyers before it was time to turn over the keys, and in the two months between contract-signing and possession, she’d invited them over repeatedly — for lemonade in the yard, for lunch in the dining room, to take measurements, and to snap pictures of what would soon be their home. I think Mom literally wanted to keep her foot in the door.

The day before the move, Mom had no time to make journal notes except to write, “Feverishly working!”

That evening our next-door-neighbors invited all of us over to their place for a nourishing dinner with all the trimmings, giving us a chance to reminisce about our happy history as neighbors. And when the moving van pulled in the next morning, we were ready.

All except Mom.

Moving Day.

Movers loaded the truck all morning and then pulled away toward the smaller house on the other side of town. Most of us followed to supervise the move-in, but Mom and Dad lingered at the old place, ostensibly to clean. She wrote in her journal, “We depart, sorrowfully, 708 [our address], but with grateful hearts for the hours spent here. This, and all our homes, are gifts from God.”

Sorrowful

Those of us at the new house thought it best to stay there till they arrived. While we waited, we made a brightly colored poster with a big, cheerful “WELCOME HOME!” on it. But when midnight came and they still hadn’t appeared, we began to worry.

“There is a time for every matter under heaven… a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted.” (Ecclesiastes 3:1-2)