Young Love (#105)

November 1, 1969

As Nate and I drove the well-traveled road between our Champaign apartment and my folks’ Wilmette home, we realized it was the first day of November – our wedding month! Although we’d been engaged for only 4 months, the wait seemed forever. Neither of us had any second thoughts, and we could hardly wait till November 29.

From my journal: As for my feelings about getting married, I’m anticipating it with eagerness! Everyone says marriage is a challenge, but I can’t wait to get started. Over these last few months, I’ve gotten lots of valuable advice in hash-over sessions with Mary, Mom, my girlfriends, and others. I have a lot of theories about husbands and wives and am going to try them all out. Nate and I have also talked about sex a lot. Maybe that’s why we’ve been able to abstain thus far. But that wedding night? It’s going to be sweet!

Drake HotelAs we drove, we talked about our honeymoon, making the decision to spend all 4 days at Chicago’s historic Drake Hotel. The first night we decided we’d pay the extra price for a suite of two rooms but after that would move to a regular room. During the day we’d stroll the Chicago streets, do a little shopping, walk along Lake Michigan’s beaches, and “take naps” back at the hotel. In the evenings we’d eat out and attend one live show and a movie or two.

When we arrived at Mom and Dad’s, the kitchen was still torn up, and new appliances had been delivered…. to the living room. But Mom still wasn’t worried.

Kneeling benchDad was spending every free minute at Moody Church, supervising the installation of a new sound system suspended from the super-high ceiling. While he was there, new carpet had been laid on the steps leading to the lower platform where we would be married, and a new kneeling bench had arrived. The church had also ordered new white cloth runners for the very long double aisles in the sanctuary, and they too had been delivered.

As soon as we stepped into Mom’s front door she said, “Wait’ll you see this!” She led us to the garage where a long table was piled high with tiny white boxes about 3 inches square. Our names and the wedding date were printed on the lids. “Groom’s cake!” she said. She explained how her friends had spent 3 evenings folding all 500 boxes.

Fruit cake“And I’ve ordered 104 pounds of fruit cake. When it gets here we’ll slice it, wrap each piece, and fill the boxes. You know what they say. If you’re a single lady wanting to be married, put a piece of groom’s cake under your pillow, and one day your prince will come.”

Nate raised his eyebrows and looked at me, not sure what to say. I just nodded our approval and said, “Good job on the boxes!”

That afternoon as Nate put twinkle lights on the back yard evergreens, I went to meet with our caterer. But when I walked through her door, a group of 25 friends came around the corner and shouted, “Surprise!”

It was another bridal shower!

“Rejoice with those who rejoice.” (Romans 12:15)

Young Love (#102)

October 26, 1969

 

As Nate and I drove back to Champaign from Wilmette, we needed to make a decision about my safety in the apartment. Living alone until we were married had left me vulnerable when several young men had attempted to break in. Nate expressed extreme concern, telling me it was his job to protect me. But neither of us knew how to fix the problem.

One bedHe could move in with me, but both of us knew we wouldn’t be able to resist each other physically, especially since we only had one bed – the one that pulled out of a closet. And we both wanted to hold out until we were married (which was already difficult enough). To compromise after we’d come this far seemed like too big a defeat.

As the miles clicked away, we discussed our options:

  1. Nate could move in with me, and we could try to maintain purity.
  2. We could continue to live separately and hope no further incidents occurred.
  3. I could advertise for a roommate on the university bulletin board (for one month).
  4. We could trust God to protect me.
  5. I could be more diligent about locking both locks on both doors.

The thought of option #1 brought immediate comfort to both of us. But to do that was to make a decision based on the fear something bad was going to happen. I liked the sound of #4. If I continued to live alone, counting on God to protect me as he already had, we could also count on him protecting our desire to wait for sex till marriage.

I said, “After all, those guys didn’t get in. And I wasn’t hurt.”

“Yes, but you were hurt emotionally.” Nate said. “Both of us were.”

“But, I know God will heal all of that.” I said. “He will.”

“But what if something else happens? And what if God chooses not to step in? I would feel like it was my fault…. again.”

“I guess we have to believe that if that ever happened, he’d walk us through a recovery then, too.”

Besides, it wasn’t just in the apartment that bad things could happen. And it wasn’t just to me. Nate could become a victim, too. There were no guarantees about safety.

DowntownWhen we pulled up to our apartment, we were still hashing it out. After making multiple trips up the stairs with our gift boxes, we finally sat down and looked at each other. The time had come to decide. I felt completely bonded to Nate and knew he would do anything to keep me from suffering in any way. But as I studied his face, I could see he was going to let me make the final decision.

In the end, I opted for a combo of numbers 2, 4, and 5. We would continue living separately, relying on God for protection (wherever we were), and would be more diligent about locking doors.

When Nate finally drove away that night, for the first time I thought it best not to stand in front of the window and wave.

“The Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.” (2 Thessalonians 3:3)

Young Love (#101)

October 24 – 26, 1969

As Nate and I struggled to make a wise choice on the heels of the attempted break-in, our calendars told us it was time to drive to Wilmette for my second bridal shower. This was a welcome change from all the negatives we’d been talking about, and we decided to postpone our decision about where Nate would spend his nights — at least for now.

InvitationThe wedding invitations had arrived but were sitting in boxes, unaddressed – and we were about a month from the wedding. Our plan was to get going on those, along with anything else Mom might want us to do.

She had written earlier, asking what kind of stamps we wanted on the invitations. In those days there was no such thing as a “love stamp,” but we did have several to choose from: the moon landing, a spray of pink flowers, a muscle car, and a cardinal. Then there was Mom’s up-and-away favorite, former President Eisenhower.

Ike.She’d written, “The P.O. puts new stamps out periodically, but personally, ‘I like Ike!’ He’s smiling because Nathan loves Margaret, and Meg loves Nate.” We liked her logic and joined her in voting for Ike.

When we arrived in Wilmette, my folks’ home was in complete disarray. The remodeling crew had torn their kitchen to the studs that very day, relocating its contents to the living room. We could barely squeeze into the house, and I wondered how Mom was holding up under this added inconvenience.

When we finally found her, she was sorting wedding music under the grand piano. Smiling broadly when she saw us, she told us how “absolutely thrilled” she was with the kitchen. “Finally!” she said. “Things are really moving now!”

JohnnyNate and I decided to take the invitations elsewhere – where we could spread out the project and leave it set up until finished. I called Aunt Agnes in the next suburb, Evanston, and asked if we could bunk with her over the weekend. She welcomed us gladly, and that first night we stayed up past 2:00 AM putting the first dent in a very long list. Aunt Agnes kept us going with coffee and ice cream, and of course we took time out to watch her favorite show, Johnny Carson.

Bridal showerTP brideThe bridal shower on Saturday was an extravaganza with 73 guests and just about as many gifts. Their generosity literally moved us from mis- matched hand-me-downs to the lovely look of fresh-and-new. And in case I still needed a wedding gown, they modeled several I could choose from – created with flowing TP.

 
After the shower it was back to our invitations. I wrote addresses, Nate stuffed envelopes, and Aunt Agnes fueled the whole operation with sandwiches, doughnuts, and bottomless cups of her delicious percolated coffee.

On Sunday Dad told me he hadn’t forgotten about our need for a second car and had been keeping his eyes on the want-ads. Apparently brother Tom needed a car, too, so Dad was doing double duty. Bervin had joined in on the car project, for which we were thankful. He knew best of anyone how to analyze what was under the hood.

As we drove back to Champaign Sunday evening, our little VW was crammed with gifts – on the floor, in the back seat, on my lap, at my feet, and piled tight against the hatchback window. We were a blessed couple indeed, and I couldn’t wait to bring such bounty into our fairly empty apartment. Although we didn’t have furniture in which to put our things, it would be a joy just stacking those beautiful boxes along the wall.

As the 150 miles flew by on our drive south, both of us knew it was time to talk again about my safety in the apartment…. and where Nate would sleep, starting with that very night.

“Now then, my children, listen to me…. Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not disregard it.” (Proverbs 8:32-33)