Newlywed Love (#80)

July 28-31, 1970

Nate and I were learning that taking on a pet was a bigger commitment than we thought… especially a dog. We were both keen on keeping commitments in general, and part of that was doing the work connected to them. Tossing that to someone else made it their commitment, and that’s what we’d done to Mom and Dad with sweet Baron.

But we tabled those thoughts to tend to more urgent matters: selling the Mustang, finding an economical vehicle, studying hard, and running Nate’s paper route. This job, which began with such promise, had morphed into a disaster. Though Nate had faithfully made his deliveries, never missing a day, he hadn’t made a nickel.

Courier officeAt the end of the first week, his boss told him something he had probably purposely withheld: payment would come only as his customers paid him. At the office he showed Nate how to hand-write the bills on a payment envelope and band them to the papers once a week.

The problem was, virtually none of his customers actually paid. He had to walk up to each house, usually at dinner time when people were home, and plead for the money. It didn’t take long to learn that once a product had been received, a buyer was reluctant to pay for it.

This felt even worse than failing to sell pots and pans. After all, the people on his paper route had already agreed to buy the product. Worst of all, Nate had had to pay up front for all the newspapers, purchasing each bundle before going on his route. He also had to pay for the required rubber bands, and these expenses had up-ended our meager budget.

DollarsOne evening after delivering papers every day for almost 4 weeks, he returned empty from another bill-collecting trip. His frustration had reached the boiling point, and he erupted. “I’m basically giving the gift of a  free Courier subscription to each one of my customers – every week!” He stomped back and forth in his own protest march while venting his anger. “And then they slam doors in my face when I ask them to pay what they owe!”

“Well,” I said, trying to be positive, “you’ve collected $70 so far. At least that’s something.”

“But that went toward paying for papers and rubber bands!” he said. “And my boss is mad, because we’re still in the hole with him.” Nate was right, of course. It was a big mess.

In one last effort to lift his spirits I said, “Well, we may be poor, but at least we’re happy.”

Even as I said it, we both knew it was only half true. But there was one genuinely hopeful development – the Mustang. People were responding to our ad, several had come to see it, and two seemed almost ready to buy. “Maybe we can get a bidding war going over our polluted little car,” I said, hoping Nate would laugh at such an absurdity.

But he didn’t even smile.

“Be happy with those who are happy, and weep with those who weep.” (Romans 12:15)

Newlywed Love (#79)

July 19-25, 1970

Nate and I were happy to spend some weekend time washing and waxing our sleek, black Mustang with the terrible “bad breath” — hopeful that its handsome appearance would sell it quickly. It was enjoyable working together on a project that didn’t involve mental strain, since it seemed like all we ever did was study.

Mustang grill

I felt overloaded with student teaching, seminars, and homework, but once Nate got deep into his law classes, there was no comparison as to who was busiest. He won, hands down.

Mom's letterAfter we finished the car, I opened a long letter from Mom, thanking us for their time in Champaign. She also wrote about Mary and Bervin getting a dog, a Cocker Spaniel. Rusty and Baron were becoming friends, and Mom wrote two paragraphs describing their antics.

As I read the letter, a new thought came. Did they really want to keep Baron for us, or were they just doing it as a sacrificial favor? Were we taking advantage of them by asking them to keep him?

Mom wrote, The Baron is A-OK, tearing up a box right now in the basement here. He brightens our lives.

But I pictured Mom, on her hands and knees, cleaning up shredded cardboard and I had my doubts. I knew she worried about Baron running off when they were outside and had no good answer for what they would do with him if they went on vacation.

And all of a sudden I began to cry. Nate came running and put his arms around me. “What’s the matter?”

Tuckered out Baron“I feel guilty that Mom and Dad have to keep our dog. They have to feed and house him, watch over him, and she just wrote that they took him in for his first round of puppy shots. We should be doing that.”

“Yes, but your mother really does love him – genuinely.”

“I know, but it isn’t just that.” And through tears I began remembering aloud all the ways my parents had helped us – going along with our rushed wedding plans, accepting Nate with enthusiasm, providing furniture, rugs, virtually everything in our apartment.

My familyThey had loaned us money, which moved my thoughts back to the cost of my college education… and so much more. I thought of my childhood as I grew up in an atmosphere of listening and love. Best of all, they had introduced me to Jesus Christ from the beginning, modeling lives committed to him.

As I sat with Mom’s letter in my lap and Nate’s arms around me, I sobbed and sobbed, overwhelmed with how much I’d been given and wondering if I had taken these gifts for granted. Did they know how much I appreciated everything? Had I thanked them enough?

Nate suggested I put all my thoughts into a long letter. “It’ll make you feel better to write it, and they’ll love receiving it.”

He was right, and I began. But even as I penned page after page of gratitude, my thoughts were on the Baron-dilemma.

“If you honor your father and mother, things will go well for you.” (Ephesians 6:3)

Newlywed Love (#74)

July 3-5, 1970

After our landlord’s definitive word that Baron could no longer stay with us, we considered moving. Linda, one of my old carpool buddies, had a dog and it was fine with the landlord where she and Ron lived. There was an extra fee for “Rip,” but at least he was legal.

Country Fair apartments.Our lease would run out August 1st, and though we had been planning to stay there another year, I began campaigning to make the move. The Country Fair apartments had something we didn’t: air conditioning. And it didn’t hurt that there was an outdoor swimming pool, too, since the weather was hot and muggy. Both Nate and I loved to swim, and I knew we’d have lots of fun in the pool, as well as being able to spend more time with Linda and Ron.

But Nate didn’t buy my logic. “What about wintertime? And the fireplace we love so much here – not to mention the huge effort and expense of moving.” I hadn’t thought of those, and by now our 3 rooms were full of heavy furniture… three stories up.

“But what about Baron?” I said.

Nate reminded me that my parents had offered to take him — with joy. “And,” he said, “whenever they visit here or we visit there, we’ll get to see him.” But I wasn’t convinced.

Nate continued. “Only one year from now, we’ll be done with law school and moving away from Champaign. We could choose a dog-friendly apartment then and get him back.”

Law booksHe was right. I was so busy with school work I couldn’t imagine finding time to pack and move… or even swim. And Nate was considering a couple of law courses during the second session of summer school. They would be on double-time overload and very difficult, but without a job, he needed to get something accomplished with his summer. Moving would be hard to pile on top of that.

So, while holding Baron on my lap, I dialed my folks. After Mom heard about the landlord she said, “Why don’t the two of you and Baron come this way for the 4th of July weekend. We’re going to celebrate in Michigan, so drive straight there. Baron will love playing on the beach again, and… we’ll be delighted to take him home with us.”

When I hung up, it was all set, though both Nate and I felt queasy. We told ourselves it would only be temporary, which seemed to help – at least a little.

Baron gets awayThe holiday weekend in Michigan was a mix of good and bad weather, happy and sad conversation, and a very tearful farewell to our puppy. When we arrived back in Champaign, our spirits were sagging, and we almost didn’t want to go in… because some of the happy life in our little home had been left in Michigan.

“Sorrow is better than laughter, for sadness has a refining influence on us.” (Ecclesiastes 7:3)