Category Archives: Remembering

Young Love (#114)

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November 15, 1969

Nate and I decided to spend the weekend in Champaign. The only wedding detail left to tend to in Wilmette was the groom’s cake, and Mom said her lady-friends were looking forward to taking care of that in a few days.

Groom's cake boxesThe 104 pounds of fruit cake had arrived, and they planned to cut it into 500 pieces, wrap each one in Saran, fill the boxes, and cushion the cake with tiny strips of tissue. It sounded like lots of unnecessary work, but Mom had her heart set on sending each wedding guest home with a “favor.”

I still hadn’t picked up my wedding gown from a shop in suburban Chicago after its final alteration, but they promised it would be ready a few days before November 29. I tried not to stress about it.

There was one wedding detail, though, that Mom insisted I do her way, without even considering my opinion. Years earlier, she and Dad had been on a trip to Sweden, returning with rave reviews about what Swedish brides were wearing on their heads: small gold crowns. Since Dad was 100% Swedish and Mom was half, she had decided to bring that tradition to America – and bought a crown.

One day after Mary was engaged, Mom took us into her room and carefully pulled a blue velvet box down from her closet shelf, while briefing us on the new family tradition she was about to start. She described the pretty Swedish brides and then said, “Many of the state churches there own a crown so that any girl from the congregation can wear it on her wedding day. And guess what. We now have our very own crown!”

The crownGently she pulled it from the box to show us – a small gold headpiece with 12 large points and 12 small ones, each topped with a cultured pearl.

“Through the years,” she said, “all the brides in our extended family can wear it, and we’ll be sharing an important tradition with each other and also with our Swedish relatives.”

Mary and I looked at each other that day, unsure about whether or not we wanted to be “crowned” on our wedding days. But Mom was sure, so all we could do was smile and nod.

Mary is crowned.When Mary’s wedding day arrived in 1967 (right), she walked down the aisle with that crown on her head, and our cousin Gloria wore it again in 1968.

In 1969 it was my turn, and though I’d envisioned my veil attached to something lacy and sparkly, I followed in the cooperative footsteps of the other two brides – and agreed to wear the crown. Actually, it felt good to please Mom, after all she’d done for us.

 

I had only one reservation. With short hair and a veil that would be longer than my train, how was that crown going to stay on my head?

“Work at living in peace with everyone…” (Hebrews 12:14)

Young Love (#113)

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November 14, 1969

Young people in their 20’s are living through the most exhilarating decade their lives will ever know. Some are graduating from college, traveling the world, choosing careers, entering the military. Others are getting married, having babies, buying homes, adapting to community life. Spiritual commitments are often made (or unmade) during this decade, and 20-somethings literally pass from childhood to adulthood.

20-somethingsNate and I were no exception. We never ran out of stimulating things to talk about.

Where should he apply for his first lawyer-job? Should we live in a big city? A suburb? A small town? Should we move to his home town? To mine? To a new part of the country? Where should I work? Or should I go back to school? Should we have children? If so, how many?

We were euphoric as we talked about our options. Life had no restrictions, and it seemed we could do anything we wanted. But this belief in unlimited choices, though typical of our age group, had its dangers. In our case it turned out to be too much gazing at the un-decided’s while ignoring one of the decided’s.

3.40It was Friday evening, and Nate and I enjoyed a glass of wine celebrating the many happy decisions ahead of us. Before we knew it, it was 2:00 AM – and then past 3:00. We began to rationalize how practical it would be for Nate to stay in the apartment till breakfast, only a few hours away.

Though we had a rule against him spending the night, most of the night had already passed. Besides, we’d stuck with our decision to remain sexually pure through lots of tempting moments. So we decided he could stay – promising each other we’d “be good.”

But that’s the thing about temptation. The devil whispers a mix of truth and lies into our ears, and before long we’ve stepped over a line we were determined not to cross.

With our inhibitions down because of the wine, our hugging and kissing started to get out of hand. Nate began whispering, “I probably shouldn’t stay.” I responded, “You probably should go.” But neither of us had the will power to pull apart. That’s when something very strange happened.

God has promised to provide an escape hatch when we’re having trouble resisting temptation, and on that Friday, Nate and I were having trouble. Right then, God delivered.

Out of nowhere I heard a car door slam down on the street, and a vivid picture popped into my muzzy mind: Mom…. arriving for a surprise visit.

Logic would say, “Impossible! It’s after 3:00 AM!” But Mom had pulled some pretty crazy stunts in her time. I sat bolt upright and said, “Quick! Grab your shoes and run for the back door! I think Mom’s here!”

“What?” he said in his confusion as he rolled off the Murphy bed and did what I asked. When I heard the back door close behind him, I knew he was headed for his car and his rented room.

I lay there quietly in the dark, waiting to hear Mom’s tap on the front door…. but it never came.

CerealIn a few hours, Nate returned for breakfast. Both of us agreed we’d had a close call – and were thankful for God’s odd but effective “way of escape.” Feeling humbled, we again determined to save our first sex for our wedding night – only 15 days away.

“There’s a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing.” (Ecclesiastes 3:5)

Young Love (#112)

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November 10-13, 1969

As the school year moved toward Thanksgiving break, I was pleased at how well my little six-year-olds were learning. Linda (the 2nd grade teacher) and I talked about what they would need to know before entering her class the following year, and I finally felt confident I could get them there.

My friendships with Linda and Judy were deepening, and we began doing a few things socially, away from school. We shared several dinners and included our guys, so they were getting to know each other, too.

The RobinettesThe 4th grade teacher at our school, Mrs. Robinette, was like a teaching mentor to all three of us with her many years of experience. But she was a friend, too. She and her husband lived on a farm, and she often shared her home-grown produce with us – fresh veggies and eggs.

One Sunday, she and her husband invited all of us McKinley teachers and spouses to their home for dinner.

After a delicious meal, Judy sat down at the upright piano and began playing hymns she seemed to know well.

Upright pianoLinda walked over and started singing the words, and then Judy added an alto part. I joined in too, trying to put my notes between theirs. This amateur trio probably sang well beyond the enjoyment of the others, but Linda, Judy, and I had discovered a faith-link between us. All three loved the Lord and had had experience with him. Finding this out meant something special to each of us.

For the most part, our school days went well. We’d adjusted to the 80-mile round trip commute, and the teaching staff felt like family. There was one day, however, that Judy, Linda, and I wished would never have happened.

It was time for a teacher training afternoon, and the students were sent home before lunch. All the teachers in the district were then supposed to report to in-service meetings for the rest of the day.

The three of us really didn’t want to go, so we concocted a better plan. Thinking we wouldn’t me missed, we ditched the afternoon and headed home early. But Principal Scarce had had his eye out for us and wasn’t fooled.

Principal's officeThe next day, when he called us to his office, we knew we’d been caught. Instead of a trio of hymn-singers, we had morphed into a trio of truants.

Mr. Scarce patiently listened to our side of the story, but between the three of us, we couldn’t come up with even one good excuse. His only choice was to dock our paychecks – a big disappointment, and an even bigger embarrassment. Thankfully he didn’t withdraw the permission he’d given me for 3 days off after Thanksgiving. Had he taken that away, Nate and I wouldn’t have been able to have a honeymoon.

All of us felt bad about our immature choice to skip the meetings and vowed to do better, throwing ourselves into the day-to-day work of teaching. But each evening I forgot all about McKinley School and switched into wedding mode, especially enjoying Nate’s and my favorite part of the day – crossing off one more square on our countdown calendar.

By the end of the week, there were only 12 squares left when my students could rightfully call me Miss Johnson.

“….forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead.” (Philippians 3:13