Newlywed Love (#1)

Posted on May 23, 2017 by Margaret

Nate and Meg are back on this blog (by popular demand), but if you’ve had enough of them, you know where the delete button is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

December 1, 1969

As Nate and I embarked on our brief 4-day honeymoon, we were reminded again that God keeps his promises. “The Lord is trustworthy in all he promises and faithful in all he does.” (Psalm 145:136)

In his Word he had told us to wait for sex until we were married, implying that if we did, he would bless us in special ways. We experienced that divine blessing again and again at The Drake Hotel, so much so that Nate would often say a prayer of gratitude both before and after we were intimate.

Scripture says, “Marriage is honorable by all and the bed undefiled.” (Hebrews 13:4 KJV) This means it’s no sin to have all the married sex you both want, and assures that as you take advantage of such freedom, God is nodding his approval.

A synonym for “undefiled” is “pure,” and our honeymoon was full of pure fun. Peter wrote about loving each other fervently with pure hearts, and purifying our souls by obeying God’s truth. (1 Peter 1:22 KJV) That’s exactly what we were doing.

I told Nate, “When God invented sex, he sure had a good idea there.”

But of course lovemaking wasn’t all we did on our honeymoon. The morning after our wedding we ordered brunch through room service, a lavish treat we justified for that special occasion. I ordered my favorite – lamb chops – eating them with my fingers. Nate got scrod, and everything was served on linen and silver. “Even a free newspaper!” he said.

We did some sightseeing, sat in the front row at the new Broadway show Hair (quite controversial!), ate at The Cape Cod Room and Don the Beachcombers, shopped, saw the comedy show at Second City, and participated in an evening vesper service at a nearby church. We also spent a bit of our wedding money. I shouldn’t say “we,” because most of it was spent on me.

Nate said, “I think we should buy you a new coat.” My “Jackie Kennedy” had seen better days, and it was time to retire it. Modeling coats for my admiring groom was a delight, and I relished his many compliments.

I told him the choice was his, and he picked a black coat with fake fur, leather trim, and silver buttons. I loved it, especially knowing that every time I put it on I would be reminded of our honeymoon – for years to come.

At the Marshall Fields glove counter, we were pondering which pair of black gloves to buy (me again) when the clerk said, “I’m gonna guess you two are newlyweds.”

“How can you tell?” Nate said.

“Your rings are still shiny… and also… all that giggling.” We loved our new label.

No matter what we did, though, we never strayed far from The Drake. Nate would look at me or I’d look at him, and one of us would say, “Let’s go back and take a nap.” – an invitation to have some more “pure” fun.

“A man shall leave his father and his mother and hold fast to his wife.” (Genesis 2:24)

Young Love (#135)

Posted on April 27, 2017 by Margaret

November 29, 1969… 7:00 PM

It wasn’t until Nate and I had moved into the wedding reception room that we got our first look at the cake. I wondered why those 6 heavy layers didn’t collapse on each other with all that weight. Maybe hidden pillars had been baked inside, allowing each layer to rest on a firm foundation. We didn’t dare walk too close.

Although Nate had never been in love with sugar, I was a total sweets-freak and couldn’t wait to sample it. When the time finally came, it wasn’t without strict guidelines by the caterer. She, in turn, had been instructed by the bakery lady, who had marked exactly where we were to cut.

As we carefully followed the marks, hand-over-hand on the knife, I had a flashback to a childhood beach game called “Cut the Cake.” Kids would make a sand-cake with a toy bucket, then take turns slicing away pieces. At one point the whole thing would collapse.

But this was no game, and I hoped a cake-collapse wasn’t in our immediate future. We used a very sharp knife, and the caterer tutored us through the process. But still, it was a relief when the cutting part was finally done.

Then it was time to taste! Nate didn’t savor his mouthful as much as I did, so after licking my fingers, I licked his, too. Delicious!

Cousin Patti approached then, wanting us to sign the guest book. She was following through on what we’d asked by getting everyone’s signature… even ours. But it made sense, since we, too, were wedding guests of the hosts: Mom and Dad.

Nate asked how he should sign and suggested we use our new partnership to identify us. “How about Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Nyman?”

I loved knowing that the first use of my new Nyman-name would be in our wedding guestbook and agreed it was a great way to begin. Although the budding feminist movement of the sixties would bristle at my not using my given name, I loved my new “Mrs.-Status” and was delighted to be partnered with this particular Mr. To me it was the perfect signature for the day.

While we were signing the guest book, Pastor Sweeting was getting signatures from the maid of honor and best man on a marriage certificate. Although it wasn’t as official as the marriage license we’d secured earlier at the Chicago City Clerk’s office, it did prove that Pastor Sweeting was the one who had tied the knot.

And then it was time for everyone to sit down again for our short program.

“This is how the holy women of old made themselves beautiful. They put their trust in God and accepted the authority of their husbands.” (1 Peter 3:5-6)

Young Love (#113)

Posted on March 20, 2017 by Margaret

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.

Nate 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.

It 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.

In 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.