Category Archives: Remembering

Young Love (#96)

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October 4 – 12, 1969

Nate and I found great joy in flipping our calendar from September to October so we could officially say, “Next month we’ll be married!”

With the arrival of beautiful fall weather and pretty leaves, we established an evening walk each night after supper. Our six-flat apartment building was in a charming older neighborhood with streets of brick that were much like cobblestones — a delightful place to walk and dream about being husband and wife.

TogetherFrom my journal: “Back on July 4th in that Holiday Inn room, I wrote and officially sealed my pledge of loyalty, support, love, and devotion to Nate. And since then I have felt like I wanted to re-pledge and double-pledge to him, because my heart has been continually growing in love for him. When I look at Nate, I just about fall over with appreciation for who he is. And his love for me makes me feel unbelievably secure. I never knew I was capable of this depth of devotion. Really!”

Guilt sometimes nagged at me when I thought of Mom and Dad working so hard back home to plan our wedding while we went about our daily routine somewhat insulated from the hub-bub. So the next Sunday we decided to make an unannounced trip to surprise my folks and do what we could to help. Skipping our own church service to drive the 3 hours home, we arrived at the Moody Church steps just as Mom and Dad were coming out, and our surprise was a big hit.

Guest listsWe, along with Mary, Bervin, and several aunts, went out to lunch and “talked wedding.” Afterwards, we gathered around Mom and Dad’s kitchen table, finalizing the guest list and choosing a couple of October dates when we could return to address invitations. Although we had to head back to Champaign after just a few hours, we had participated in advancing wedding plans…. at least a little.

Just before we left, Mom let us know another bridal shower was being planned, this one at our friends the Elsen’s large home in Evanston. I determined then that the first order of business back in Champaign would be to complete the stack of thank you notes I hadn’t yet written for gifts we’d received at the first shower. Another one seemed too good to be true.

A friend gets a rideWe decided to drive the Corvette back to Champaign, planning to place a want-ad in the newspaper. A quick sale would bring the money needed to fund a replacement car, or at least some of it, and I could see it all coming together on one of those invitation-addressing-weekends. (Right: a family friend asks for one last sit-down in the ‘Vette.’)

Just before waving goodbye, I asked Mom when their kitchen remodel would be finished. The tear-down hadn’t even started yet — and our wedding was only 6 weeks away. She patted me on the shoulder and said, “Don’t you worry about all that, honey. It’ll get done in time.” But looking over at Dad’s furrowed brow, I had my doubts.

“Prepare your minds for action.” (1 Peter 1:13)

Young Love (#95)

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September 30 – October 3, 1969

Nate and I were spending lots of time together, grateful that we weren’t separated by hundreds of miles as we had been. I was doing my best to become a domestic goddess, especially in the kitchen, though without much success. Having had virtually no cooking experience in my growing-up years, I didn’t have much to build on. Mom didn’t use us in her kitchen (except to stir the Jello), probably because she was always moving too fast to take time to teach.

So, as I was shopping for ingredients to make our first meal in the Champaign apartment, I played it safe, looking only for foods that had printed instructions. When I checked out, I had purchased hot dogs, Kraft macaroni, and frozen peas.

PeasBack at the apartment, I first squared off with the peas, immediately befuddled at how I should open the box. Finally I sawed the end off with a serrated knife. But I was so unschooled that when the directions said to use a sauce pan, I didn’t know what that meant.

But I had only two pan-choices – small and large – so I chose the small one. The instructions said to put ¼ cup of water into the pan along with the peas, and then bring them to a boil. On and on my prep work went until finally I presented the colorful results on a plate to my patient fiancé.

He gobbled it all down, voicing his appreciation between bites. Factoring into my success was that Nate had just come from many years of college dining hall food… not very tasty back then. Almost anything would have been good enough.

Minimal mealsI knew I had much to learn, but Nate was endlessly patient and never once criticized my efforts. It wasn’t until later that I realized his mother was a gourmet cook and had always served her family high-class fare.

Thankfully my Aunt Joyce had given me the big Better Homes Cookbook as an engagement gift, and it turned out to be exactly what I needed. It told me how to “broil” something, defined a “moderate oven,” and said that one medium onion chopped would end up as ½ cup.

Over time, this handy cook book taught me how to cut up a pineapple and stuff a turkey. It described the differences in 17 cheeses and gave the uses for scores of seasonings. It included menu suggestions and listed tips for entertaining. It even taught me how to arrange table centerpieces and fold napkins into fancy shapes.

There wasn’t any cooking subject my book didn’t address, and little by little Nate’s dinner plate became more interesting. Not that I didn’t often fail, but if I burned something, he ate it and said, “Mmmm. Good!” If the potatoes weren’t completely cooked, he crunched them down. And always, without exception, he thanked me “for the delicious meal.”

Young love.....Without me realizing it, he was following through on the written promise he’d made — many letters ago – to love me in a “1-Corinthians-13 way.”

“Let everything you say be good and helpful, so that your words will be an encouragement to those who hear them.” (Ephesians 4:29)

Young Love (#94)

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It’s been a whirlwind 3 weeks since I last posted a “Young Love” blog, and here’s why:

95 Theses.In Germany —

  • Reuniting with my college roommate
  • Meeting new friends
  • Sightseeing, museums, following Martin Luther
  • Visiting other cities, a super-fast “bullet” train
  • Getting lost in Berlin… and found at 3:30 AM
  • Praying, laughing, eating, and “doing the city” by night

 

 

In England —

  • Jonathan.Meeting my 12th grandchild, Jonathan Richard Nyman
  • Renewing relationships with his 5 older siblings
  • Hiking as a family
  • Getting back in action with my co-grandma and the children as “Team Gran”
  • Sightseeing, riding bikes
  • Sharing lively meals
  • Visiting parks and playgrounds
  • Quizzing knowledgeable youngsters about Bible facts

British Nymans

(Hans and Katy with children, L to R: Nicholas, Evelyn, Elizabeth, Andrew, Thomas, and Jonathan in Katy’s front carrier.)

I’m overflowing with gratitude for these loving relationships and the chance to “get current” with each one. Thankfully, the globe is shrinking, and I’m learning the tricks of travel, mostly by making mistakes. It isn’t easy for this grandma to go-it-alone, especially internationally, but God goes with me — the best travel partner of them all.

And now…. back to the story of Meg and Nate as they travel toward their wedding day (and night) in the autumn of 1969:

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September 22–29, 1969

Although Nate and I no longer needed to write letters to each other, our tiny mailbox was still full. Mom sent a steady stream of progress reports on the wedding plans, usually accompanied by a list of questions, and Aunt Joyce mailed ongoing encouragement from California. Nate’s mother wrote, too, with questions about the rehearsal dinner and guest list.

M and M.Mary often sent notes urging me to give Mom honest answers to her questions. “The bride is the boss,” she wrote. “Tell Mom what you want, and don’t let her change your mind.” I appreciated the voice of experience, a cooperative sister-bride who had probably let Mom have her way on almost everything about her wedding — but at least she’d “been around” to take a more active role in the planning. My guilt about being out of town was mounting.

One thing I could help with was ordering invitations, which we hoped to get mailed by November 1st. I gave Mom my choices by mail: ivory colored paper, black ink, fancy script, and traditional wording. I also thought it would be fun to give the lady-guests a chance to wear long dresses if they wanted. When I suggested we add “Black tie optional” at the bottom of the invitation, Mom wrote, “Moody Church people won’t know what that means. The men will put on a black tie and think, ‘There. I did it.’ ” So we added “Formal dress optional” instead, even though we knew not many would take advantage.

The guest list had mushroomed to hundreds, and Mom said the invitations needed to be addressed in my handwriting. But it was debatable if I’d be able to drive home (repeatedly) to complete that task in time. I decided to wait till the invitations actually arrived before hitting the panic button.

“Do not be anxious about your life.” (Matthew 6:25)