Young Love (#96)

Posted on March 3, 2017 by Margaret

October 4 – 12, 1969

Nate and I found great joy in flipping our calendar from September to October so we could officially say, “Next month we’ll be married!”

With the arrival of beautiful fall weather and pretty leaves, we established an evening walk each night after supper. Our six-flat apartment building was in a charming older neighborhood with streets of brick that were much like cobblestones — a delightful place to walk and dream about being husband and wife.

From my journal: “Back on July 4^th in that Holiday Inn room, I wrote and officially sealed my pledge of loyalty, support, love, and devotion to Nate. And since then I have felt like I wanted to re-pledge and double-pledge to him, because my heart has been continually growing in love for him. When I look at Nate, I just about fall over with appreciation for who he is. And his love for me makes me feel unbelievably secure. I never knew I was capable of this depth of devotion. Really!”

Guilt sometimes nagged at me when I thought of Mom and Dad working so hard back home to plan our wedding while we went about our daily routine somewhat insulated from the hub-bub. So the next Sunday we decided to make an unannounced trip to surprise my folks and do what we could to help. Skipping our own church service to drive the 3 hours home, we arrived at the Moody Church steps just as Mom and Dad were coming out, and our surprise was a big hit.

We, along with Mary, Bervin, and several aunts, went out to lunch and “talked wedding.” Afterwards, we gathered around Mom and Dad’s kitchen table, finalizing the guest list and choosing a couple of October dates when we could return to address invitations. Although we had to head back to Champaign after just a few hours, we had participated in advancing wedding plans…. at least a little.

Just before we left, Mom let us know another bridal shower was being planned, this one at our friends the Elsen’s large home in Evanston. I determined then that the first order of business back in Champaign would be to complete the stack of thank you notes I hadn’t yet written for gifts we’d received at the first shower. Another one seemed too good to be true.

We decided to drive the Corvette back to Champaign, planning to place a want-ad in the newspaper. A quick sale would bring the money needed to fund a replacement car, or at least some of it, and I could see it all coming together on one of those invitation-addressing-weekends. (Right: a family friend asks for one last sit-down in the ‘Vette.’)

Just before waving goodbye, I asked Mom when their kitchen remodel would be finished. The tear-down hadn’t even started yet — and our wedding was only 6 weeks away. She patted me on the shoulder and said, “Don’t you worry about all that, honey. It’ll get done in time.” But looking over at Dad’s furrowed brow, I had my doubts.

“Prepare your minds for action.” (1 Peter 1:13)

Young Love (#94)

Posted on March 1, 2017 by Margaret

It’s been a whirlwind 3 weeks since I last posted a “Young Love” blog, and here’s why:

In Germany —

Reuniting with my college roommate
Meeting new friends
Sightseeing, museums, following Martin Luther
Visiting other cities, a super-fast “bullet” train
Getting lost in Berlin… and found at 3:30 AM
Praying, laughing, eating, and “doing the city” by night

In England —

Meeting my 12^th grandchild, Jonathan Richard Nyman
Renewing relationships with his 5 older siblings
Hiking as a family
Getting back in action with my co-grandma and the children as “Team Gran”
Sightseeing, riding bikes
Sharing lively meals
Visiting parks and playgrounds
Quizzing knowledgeable youngsters about Bible facts

(Hans and Katy with children, L to R: Nicholas, Evelyn, Elizabeth, Andrew, Thomas, and Jonathan in Katy’s front carrier.)

I’m overflowing with gratitude for these loving relationships and the chance to “get current” with each one. Thankfully, the globe is shrinking, and I’m learning the tricks of travel, mostly by making mistakes. It isn’t easy for this grandma to go-it-alone, especially internationally, but God goes with me — the best travel partner of them all.

And now…. back to the story of Meg and Nate as they travel toward their wedding day (and night) in the autumn of 1969:

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

September 22–29, 1969

Although Nate and I no longer needed to write letters to each other, our tiny mailbox was still full. Mom sent a steady stream of progress reports on the wedding plans, usually accompanied by a list of questions, and Aunt Joyce mailed ongoing encouragement from California. Nate’s mother wrote, too, with questions about the rehearsal dinner and guest list.

Mary often sent notes urging me to give Mom honest answers to her questions. “The bride is the boss,” she wrote. “Tell Mom what you want, and don’t let her change your mind.” I appreciated the voice of experience, a cooperative sister-bride who had probably let Mom have her way on almost everything about her wedding — but at least she’d “been around” to take a more active role in the planning. My guilt about being out of town was mounting.

One thing I could help with was ordering invitations, which we hoped to get mailed by November 1st. I gave Mom my choices by mail: ivory colored paper, black ink, fancy script, and traditional wording. I also thought it would be fun to give the lady-guests a chance to wear long dresses if they wanted. When I suggested we add “Black tie optional” at the bottom of the invitation, Mom wrote, “Moody Church people won’t know what that means. The men will put on a black tie and think, ‘There. I did it.’ ” So we added “Formal dress optional” instead, even though we knew not many would take advantage.

The guest list had mushroomed to hundreds, and Mom said the invitations needed to be addressed in my handwriting. But it was debatable if I’d be able to drive home (repeatedly) to complete that task in time. I decided to wait till the invitations actually arrived before hitting the panic button.

“Do not be anxious about your life.” (Matthew 6:25)

Young Love (#93)

Posted on February 6, 2017 by Margaret

A special note:

Tomorrow I’ll be boarding a plane to Europe to spend time with my college roommate Julie, who lives in Germany.

From there I’ll head over to England to meet my 12^th grandchild, two-week-old Jonathan. I’m eager to catch up with his parents, too – Hans and Katy – and their five other children – Nicholas (8), Evelyn (6), Thomas (6), Andrew (3), and Elizabeth (1).

While I’m gone, I won’t be able to blog, but I’ll resume “Young Love” on March 1^st.

See you then!

But first the conclusion to yesterday’s post:

September 20-21, 1969

As Mom and I drove the 12 miles from Wilmette to Arlington Heights, I ran through a mental list of all her “girlfriends,” trying to remember the names of everyone who would be at my surprise bridal shower. More than likely it would be her “club” of about a dozen women, and I knew them all.

When I walked in the front door, though, it turned out I didn’t really have to fake being surprised. The room was jammed with women, over 40 of them, three generations of happy faces all yelling, “SURPRISE!” And I was stunned! They had pulled it off after all.

We spent the afternoon chatting, playing pencil-paper games with a wedding theme, eating delicious fancy foods, and opening mountains of beautiful gifts. I was speechless and couldn’t wait to report every detail to Nate.

His mother was there (below, center) having driven a long way, and also her two sisters, Nate’s aunts, who I was eager to get to know.

And better than everything else was the big surprise I got half way through the afternoon…. when in walked Nate! He had driven the three hours and braved a mob of women, most of whom he didn’t know, simply because he missed me. I was thrilled! And best of all, everybody got to meet my groom ahead of the wedding. It was a perfect afternoon.

After loading up all the “loot” (as Mom called it) and heading back to Wilmette, there was no time to go car-shopping with Dad, but that was alright. Mom volunteered her VW van so we could put the Corvette out of service and work on selling it. And we would plan to return on another weekend to hunt for a car.

When we got back to Champaign, there was a letter waiting from Aunt Joyce. Her words put our weekend of receiving lots of “loot” into the proper perspective. Isn’t it wonderful to be in love and belong to the Lord Jesus Christ? What more could one (“or two”) desire?