January 31, 1970
It was time for Nate’s parents to visit our Champaign apartment, their first glimpse of the home where their son now lived. My mother-in-law, Lois, was an excellent homemaker and cook, and I hoped she would approve. I was thankful we now had a table and chairs so at least we wouldn’t have to eat our meals with plates on our laps.
Nate had worried that fondue might be too “new-fangled” for his folks, and he had hoped I could make something more traditional. So, after studying my cook book, I decided to try a beef rump roast with baked potatoes and peas. A tossed salad, store-bought dinner rolls, and ice cream sundaes would fill out the menu. The only thing I could mess up would be the meat.
I thought it might be a good idea to cook a “test roast” before the weekend, kind of a dress rehearsal, and we would invite a few friends over to share it. Early that morning, before I left for school, I put the prepared meat and potatoes into our little oven, carefully instructing Nate when and how to turn it on.
After work, when I walked in the door, our apartment smelled delicious! A few of Nate’s friends joined us for that dinner and had no trouble eating everything. Although I didn’t know these young guys, it was interesting listening to their tales of law school and the stress of being singled out to be “tormented” by the professor throughout one class period.
“If you arrive unprepared,” George said, “somehow the guy figures it out, and for sure he picks on you.”
“Yeah,” said Bill, “but if you cut class to avoid that, you can be sure he’ll get you the next day.”
They laughed through the meal, deciding by the end that if they could only bring music into the classrooms, everything would go better.
I watched them gobble up the entire rump roast, all the potatoes, and a half-gallon of ice cream slathered in chocolate sauce.
Their compliments gave me new confidence, and as they left, one of the guys said to Nate, “Man, you’ve got it made, marrying a good cook like her.” (Little did he know….)
When Nate’s folks walked in on Saturday, the house again smelled delicious, and Lois commented about that. I winked at Nate, and could tell he was pleased. She brought a box of Fanny May chocolates, which was a classy grand finale to the dinner.
That night we gave his parents our bedroom, which meant Nate and I were back on the Murphy bed. But it turned out to be an especially fun time of reminiscing about our first married nights cradled on that swoopy mattress. We concluded that the dinner with his parents nourished us in one way, but snuggling up in the Murphy bed nourished us in another way — a way that was equally important.
“Do not neglect to show hospitality.” (Hebrews 13:2)
