Newlywed Love (#50)

April 7, 1970

Mom wrote to us about once a week. These days she was using carbon paper to type 3 copies simultaneously, sending one to Tom in Washington DC, one to Mary and Bervin in Chicago, and one to Nate and me. Although Mary and Bervin got together with the folks regularly, Mom didn’t want them to miss her letters.

She sometimes waxed eloquent and frequently taught spiritual principles she didn’t want any of us to forget. In this week’s correspondence, Mom had chosen to write about the blessing of family, particularly her 3 kids.

Here, there and everywhere around 1140 [their address] are bits of evidence of Mary, Margaret, and Thomas, each here to warm the cockles of our hearts (whatever they are!) and to bless us with precious memories. You are such wonderful children. The only explanation for each of you is God’s goodness, plus your great, great father. As I’ve said before, we couldn’t have all the children in the world, so we just had the best!

Mom raves

Mom had married late for brides of 1941, at the ripe old age of 28. Although she had always been the life of every party, she was the last of her friends to marry. Maybe young suitors wondered if they could handle her spirited personality.

Mom loves DadThen along came Dad, 13 years older, stable and steady, and she was the one he wanted. Mom never got over her good fortune in his choosing her, and she let him know it every single day of their 50 years married – running to him with hugs, kisses, and wild squeals of delight every time he walked in the door.

Her dream was to have a house full of children, but after having Mary and I, her #3 was a miscarriage that became life-threatening when she hemorrhaged. She lost enough blood to make survival doubtful.

But Mom had a determination to live, and after massive set-backs that landed her at Mayo Clinic for months, in the end she came through just fine. Her desire for a dozen children, however, was not to be. “No more babies,” her doctor said. “You could die.”

There was no such thing as birth control in the 1940’s, but Dad wisely determined they would comply with the doctor’s orders. He began keeping a calendar of her cycle himself, not trusting Mom — with her passion for children and penchant for taking chances.

Dad’s system worked well for 4 years, but then, quite unexpectedly, news came of a 3rd pregnancy. This put Mom in heaven and Dad into the depths of worry. Though Mom never admitted to tricking him, we were all sure she did. If so, she did it ingeniously, giving birth to Tom on Dad’s 50th birthday.

At the beach.Dad was relieved that Mom had made it through her pregnancy without incident, and of course he adored his little boy. And Mom? She graciously accepted that this bonus baby had completed her family. Maybe that’s why she frequently made reference to having “not all the children in the world, just the best.”

As for Mary, Tom and I, any way we looked at it, one thing was certain: we’d grown up immersed in love – and also the responsibility to pass it on.

“Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another.” (Romans 13:8)

Newlywed Love (#46)

March 22, 1970

News of Mary’s pregnancy spread fast, and Mom was beside herself with glee. She wrote in her diary…

Mom's joyGuess what ——- WE’RE TO BE GRANDPARENTS!!!! Praise the Lord! WONDERFUL NEWS! Mary told us as she ironed in her bedroom. Happy! Happy!

In a letter to Nate and me she wrote…

Isn’t this delightful news? Isn’t God good?

Mom's letter

Grandparents soonSome might say, “Who wants to bring a child into today’s tangled world?” But the world is an exciting, challenging place. It’s great to be alive and involved. “A little child shall lead them.” Perhaps Bervin and Mary’s little child. “All things are possible to those who believe.” I may not have quoted that accurately, but the truth of that saying is in Holy Writ. *

Then she challenged Nate and I to lead for Christ, too, and wrote…

But we don’t have to wait for that child. You kids have the same potential, plus youth and “every good thing.” So get on with the job. With Christ – everything! Without Christ – everything the world can offer, but terminally.

Mom was waxing eloquent, and I could tell her heart was soaring. For her, children were the best thing earthly life had to offer.

After all of Mom’s rejoicing over this good news about a new little relative on the way, Nate and I decided to talk about children, squaring off with the question of whether or not we would want to have any, and if so, when.

We didn’t get very far, though. With the rest of law school, the bar exam, and military service stretching out ahead of us (as well as unnumbered decisions), the only thing to conclude was that having children any time soon wouldn’t be good.

M and N.That was fine with us. We were content just to be a couple and weren’t ready for anything or anyone to rearrange that. Becoming an aunt and uncle would offer the chance to play with a baby regularly and delight in the phenomenon of children without the responsibility.

And it was interesting to see that Mom’s happiness over her coming grandchild spilled over onto her other new relative, too. She concluded her letter with this…

Just think! We have a new son-in-law in [the family] too — Nathan. He has kindled himself warmly into our hearts. We love you, Nate!

It was all good news. And while we waited for the new baby to start the next generation in our extended family, Nate and I decided we’d better do our best to accept Mom’s challenge, to “live up to our potential with our youth and (as she put it) every good thing.”

* Jesus said…. “If you can believe, all things are possible to him who believes.” (Mark 9:23)

Newlywed Love (#42)

March 17, 1970

Kiss-meAlthough both Nate and I came from mostly-Scandinavian backgrounds, when St. Patrick’s Day came around it was a different story. My mom had been half Irish, and she told us she’d “lost all her Swedish blood in nosebleeds as a child.”

She adored her Irish father, someone I never met but had heard tales about. Apparently Mom got her lively side from him and was closer to him than to her mother. It sounded like a two-peas-in-a-pod situation that went all the way back to her birth.

Mom arrived at least a month prematurely, but in those days babies were born at home, and no one kept track of due dates, birth weights, or even exact birth dates. Mom, born in December, had no info other than that she wasn’t expected until late January.

She was a tiny newborn, and the doctor told her father, “She probably won’t make it, so don’t name her. Then you won’t get too attached.”

SmackBut Mom defied the odds, and her father admired the baby-spunk in her. Following doctor’s orders, the family called her “Baby” for many weeks. Then finally, just before St. Patrick’s Day, her father said, “I’m going to give her a name.”

He began calling her “Pat” in honor of the holiday he loved, and though eventually they christened her “Evelyn,” her father called her Pat the rest of his life. So did many others. With her very-blue eyes, dark hair, and pale complexion, she looked the part and definitely had her father’s Irish wit.

That’s why, when March 17 came around each year of my childhood, our home glowed green. Mom was decked out accordingly and always wore her “Kiss me – I’m Irish!” button with pride. She served an all-green meal, and heaven help us if we didn’t dress in green that day.

Card frontThis year, 1970, I gave my new husband a homemade St. Patrick’s card with “smack” and a pair of lips drawn on the homemade envelope. He also got a store-bought card filled with affection:

“You are truly my one and only love…. the one I get so excited about seeing at the end of each day.”

Store-bought card

That evening after we had eaten our 69 cent “Chicken Baronet” dinner (out of a box), Nate surprised me with “the sweetest shiny green shamrock box of chocolate candy that I ever saw.”

Journal

 

Life was good, and little things meant a lot. But as we munched on chocolates and opened the day’s mail, we received an unexpected surprise that was REALLY big!

“My cup overflows with blessings.” (Psalm 23:5)