Category Archives: Outdoor world

Young Love (#85)

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August 28-31, 1969

 

During our 10 days of counseling at Camp Moyoca, Nate and I got attached to our high school campers, even the obstreperous ones, and both of us were glad we’d had the chance to spend time with them. For me it was also a treat to work alongside old buddies again, and for Nate it was a chance to meet them.

Water skiing.I also loved getting to water ski again, and both of us found it satisfying to sit alongside “our kids” at late-night campfires listening to their testimonies of new commitments to Christ.

Nate referred to these 10 days as “a spiritual experience of depth,” and I was pleased at how well he managed his cabin-full of boisterous boys. (No doubt his recent military training factored in.)

Jim.It was pure pleasure to watch him stockpile experiences at “my” camp, knowing that in years to come if I spoke of old memories there, he would understand. And one other perk was that when the last day came, a lifelong friendship with the camp director, Jim Gwinn, had begun.

Just after the camp bus pulled away carrying campers back to the city, Nate and I had to race away, too. It was his turn to stand up in a friend’s wedding, and this time the ceremony was back in the Champaign area.

Those 156 miles were becoming a regular gig for us, and we went straight from camp to the groom’s house, where Nate tried on his white tux and was brought up to speed on wedding details.

Bob and Roseann's wedding.

In our free hours, we headed back to our newly-rented apartment to paint, finishing the first coat and starting the second. The rooms were gradually morphing from turquoise to white, taking on a fresh, clean look.

Painting the apt.Back home Mom and Dad were assembling pieces of hand-me-down furniture and a small stove for us. They were also donating the old carpeting from their new home (the tenant beneath us would be appreciative), and an aunt was contributing a couch.

Mom had arranged to borrow a giant van from friends, and our apartment paint needed to be dry before they arrived. So after the weekend’s wedding festivities, Nate and I painted long into the night to get the job completed, tackling those 156 miles afterwards to make it home in time for the annual double birthday party for Dad and Tom – both born on September 1st.

Everything was coming together nicely, except for one thing. My new first graders would be walking into their classroom in just a few days, and I hadn’t decorated a single bulletin board – much less made a teaching plan for Day #1.

“Be a good worker, one who does not need to be ashamed.” (2 Timothy 2:15)

Young Love (#84)

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August 18-28, 1969

 

Camp borchureAfter a weekend spent painting our newly rented apartment in Champaign, we cleaned our brushes and raced back to Wilmette to gear up for an adventure as counselors at Camp Moyoca, the Moody Church youth camp.

This would be another new experience for Nate, but I had counseled in other summers and had a memory-bank full of good times there. Each of us would have a cabin of high school teens, boys for him, girls for me, though we hoped we’d be able to slip away between events to have some boy-girl time of our own.

Day #1 at camp happened to be Nate’s birthday. Tradition had long dictated that anyone having a birthday while at camp got thrown into the lake fully clothed. With my summer birthday, I’d experienced that “loving” attention repeatedly through the years and knew it often grew into a combination of wild and embarrassing – not to mention the Kangaroo Court that sometimes preceded it.

I wondered how Nate would take such a brute-force baptism. He had lived a quiet, orderly life and had never experienced (or even witnessed) such a thing. So as we drove the 45 miles to the camp, I tried to warn him.

JeanetteBut I needn’t have worried. Mercifully, he was spared. I don’t know whose directive that was, but I suspect the camp cook, Jeanette. She was going to be the caterer for our wedding, and we’d already met with her several times about the menu, giving her a chance to get to know Nate a little.

Jeanette cooked at camp every summer, and if we wanted to eat, we stayed on her good side. All of us did whatever she said (a healthy mix of admiration and fear), and I was pleased that she’d taken a special shine to Nate. To this day I wonder if she hadn’t been the one to order his birthday pardon.

Thankfully my birthday had just passed, or I would have been tossed in the lake for sure. And if Nate had seen such a scuffle, he might have felt compelled to rise to my defense, assuring a dunking for him, too – all in the name of fun, of course.

The hatAs the days passed, Nate became friends with other staff members, some of whom had been my friends since early Sunday school days. It pleased me that he was getting to know them, but even more important was that these friends were getting to know him. I was proud of him for throwing himself into every activity with enthusiasm, despite so many new experiences. Throughout the 10 days I didn’t hear a single complaint. Actually it was quite the opposite.

When we were able to steal away privately here and there, Nate reflected on all he was learning in the meetings and how he hoped to apply those things to our marriage. Both of us were growing closer to the Lord and also each other, and we began to see that God Himself had been the one to arrange these very special days at camp.

“Remember your Creator in the days of your youth.” (Ecclesiastes 12:1)

Young Love (#71)

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PostcardWhen July 25 finally came, Nate and I both felt it had been the longest summer of our lives. But at last, his time at Ft. Riley was winding down, and the only thing in the way of our togetherness was his graduation ceremony. I didn’t get to see him beforehand, but as I climbed into the outdoor grandstand with hundreds of others, I knew I was within a couple of hours of throwing my arms around him and delivering some of the kisses I’d saved for this day.

Families had come from all over the country, and the festivities of the morning kicked off exactly on time. Seated in row upon row of wooden bleachers, we all watched the impressive parade of cadets as they marched past us. After weeks of practice, they knew how to walk in flawless formation, paying close attention to the rhythmic calls of their commanding officers.

Cadet parade.

The program included a fire-power demonstration and other visuals that showed us what cadet training had been like for these men. All of it was impressive, but the only thing on my mind was that moment when Nate and I would connect. As interesting as the ceremony was, I was ready to climb into his VW hatch-back, close the doors, and head north to our new life together. And somewhere out on that field of military humanity, I knew Nate was thinking the same thing.

When the men were finally set free, I saw Nate split from the others and break into a run, making a bee-line for his fiancé. Kisses and hugs began happening all around us, but the only thing we knew for sure was that ours were the very sweetest.

On the way homeI was extremely proud of Nate. He had successfully completed another section of the Reserve Officer Training Corps program, a course considered to be “one of the most demanding and successful leadership programs in the country.” And within the hour, we were on our way to a brand new life!

”If I give over my body to hardship… but do not have love, I gain nothing.” (1 Cor. 13:3)