Category Archives: Saying Goodbye

Young Love (#86)

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September 1, 1969

 

Nate and I were getting closer to the start of a new school year in Champaign – him is law school, me as a teacher. After a double birthday party in Wilmette for my brother Tom and our Dad, the next event was seeing Tom off to college in the East. He had transferred from Wheaton to American University and would be driving to Washington DC the day after his party. We wouldn’t see him again until Thanksgiving.

Bye bye TomMom was clearly having trouble letting go – her baby, a first son, the boy who’d arrived after doctors said “no more,” the child born on her husband’s 50th birthday. Her words were that Tom wasn’t ready to launch, but the truth? She wasn’t ready.

Tom was thrilled to be spreading his wings. After a breakfast together, we waved him off, and I wondered how Mom would cope. When he’d been a Wheaton student, she’d made frequent visits to his campus 25 miles from home. She would do his laundry, bring his favorite foods, drive him home for weekends – in other words, continue as a strong presence. Now there would be 1000 miles between them, and it was a blow to her.

I didn’t understand that at all. It wasn’t as if she didn’t have anything to do.

Bible study girls.She was the every-week organist at Moody Church (two Sunday services, Wednesday prayer meetings, Thursday choir practices). She ran 4 children’s choirs. She cooked dinner at the church for over 100 people every week and taught a Sunday school class of high school girls (left). She hosted a young people’s Bible study at her house.

The church was 45 minutes from home, but that didn’t stop her from driving there repeatedly each week to practice on the 4-keyboard organ, nor did it keep her from attending many other church meetings – such as Missionaides, a group that sewed for missionaries. Each week en route to that, she’d pick up a crowd of elderly ladies who wanted to go but didn’t drive.

Kids galore.She accompanied at scores of weddings and funerals, entertained weekly at home, welcomed youth groups for their socials (right), and spent time memorizing entire books of the Bible. (That was why she kept pages of Scripture rubber-banded to her steering wheel.)

Mom was also managing the redecorating of their new home, painting every room herself. She was shopping for carpeting, drapes, appliances, and furniture with the goal of having it all in place before our November wedding.

Oh… and she was planning that wedding. With everything else going on, it had sunk to the bottom of her long list, and as it turned out, mine, too. Nate and I were on the verge of moving out of town when it finally dawned on me why my parents had wanted us to wait a year before getting married. But it was too late to worry about that now.

UnloadingNext on our agenda was to load up again, clock those 156 miles back to Champaign, unload (with law school friends, left), and prepare for a new school year.

As for the wedding? It would come together eventually…. somehow.

“Nothing will be impossible with God.” (Luke 1:37)

Young Love (#82)

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August 15-16, 1969

As we readied to drive the 156 miles from Champaign back to Wilmette, Nate and I reflected on everything that had happened since we’d left. We had found a room for him to rent until the wedding, signed the lease on an apartment that would become our first home as Mr. & Mrs., and most importantly, secured a teaching job for me. Not bad for two day’s work.

Ready to paint.Just before leaving, we stopped at a hardware store and bought several cans of paint, dropping them off at our new address: 620 Healey Street, Champaign. The apartment walls were swimming-pool-blue, which wasn’t going to blend too well with our registry choices of orange, yellow, and kiwi green. So we knew we had our work cut out for us when we returned.

Once back in Wilmette, we shared our three “finds” with my parents, asking to borrow their VW van to begin moving things to Champaign… the next morning. It was only 2½ weeks before the first school day, and we couldn’t wait to get back to our new life together as a couple. At long last our formerly separate paths were converging.

By now Mom and Dad had given up trying to talk sense into us and just shared our joy – especially the part about me finding a job. The one comment Mom did make was, “What about camp?”

“Oh,” I said, “we’re still planning on that. But not till Sunday evening.” (It was Friday.)

The next morning Nate and I, in his car and my folks’ van, headed for my Chicago apartment, and with my roommates’ help, we began carrying things out. That turned out to be far more emotional than I’d anticipated. As we packed up my few possessions (mostly a collection of glass items and a model Corvette) I found myself grieving over the end of this unique phase of life – single working girl in the big city with three fabulous roommates. It had been such a happy time, and I had trouble holding back tears.

Our apartment

Living with Marti, Marsha, and ClarLyn in our garden apartment had been a remarkable phase of life that wouldn’t come around again. And saying goodbye was much harder than I thought it would be.

But these three had been faithful cheerleaders in my initial relationship with Nate, and they generously shared my happiness when we became engaged. I would never forget their enthusiasm and how much it meant to me.

Roommates

As Nate and I left, it was comforting to know the four of us would be together again at the wedding in November. The girls had all agreed to play a part, so as I surrendered my key, this made the parting less painful.

After we’d said goodbye, Nate was ready (as always) with something helpful to say. This time he used the old adage, “The one constant in life is change.” But then he said, “Don’t worry, Meg. It’s all going to turn out just right.” And his warm hug of support cemented that in my mind.

Then we were off – two vehicles pointed toward a new life in Champaign. And we couldn’t wait to get there!

“The Lord will go before you, the God of Israel will be your rear guard.” (Isaiah 52:12)

Young Love (#76)

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August 1, 1969

Inch by inch Mom was releasing her hold on “708,” as she referred to her old home. Gradually she was stepping away from the happiness she and her family knew while living at that address, but she needed one more visit for two reasons:

  1. Many remaining items from their garage sale a week earlier were still stashed in the garages and basements of neighbors’ homes and needed to be dealt with.
  2. My brother, Tom, had prearranged a political meeting at 708 for a man who was running for Congress.

TomTom (left) had worked hard on this candidate’s campaign and had scheduled the event many weeks before the house sold. No one had expected it to sell as fast as it did.

 

 

RallyAlthough the rally was landing on the same day as the new owners would be moving in, they agreed to let Tom (and Mom) host the event in the back yard, a gracious gift. The newspaper had publicized the event as an opportunity for university students to join the candidate’s team, and Tom would be leading the charge.

Meanwhile, Mom busied herself collecting her garage sale possessions, hosting the sale “Part 2” in the next-door-neighbor’s driveway. And of course, as the day unfolded, she ended up inside her old house, helping the new family with whatever she could. She had done a good job readying the home for its new occupants, and her diary comment was, “708 SPOTLESS.”

Spotless“Going home” is satisfying for most of us, and after moving from a beloved house, going home to a different one can be unsettling. All of us can testify to running errands in the weeks after a move and automatically ending up on the route to our old address rather than the new house. There comes a day, though, when the transition must be made, even if we have to concentrate hard to get it done.

Tom’s rally was a success with about 50 attendees, and the candidate was appreciative. Mom’s garage sale succeeded, too, and as she hauled the remaining items away, she left 708 for good. Once she made up her mind that she had really moved out, it took only 3 days before a very special note popped up in her diary. They had been out to dinner, after which she wrote: “…and then to our new home, which we LOVE!”

In the end, Mom and Dad lived in their smaller home for more than 30 years, and Mom never loved any home more than that one.

“The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places.” (Psalm 16:6)