Newlywed Love (#116)

Posted on December 3, 2017 by Margaret

November 4-6, 1970

When I called Dad to tell him I was thinking about a masters degree at Northwestern, he was pleased. As an alum, he loved the idea of me attending his alma mater.

“I’ll go over there tomorrow to pick up an application,” he said, “and will mail it to you.”

Dad had earned two degrees from Northwestern, both in engineering. He told the story of how he had graduated #2 in the class of 1922 but berated himself for not having been #1. He remembered #1’s name and mentioned how he was the guy who always got to carry the flag in the alumni parade .

Being #2 was highly impressive to me, since I’d been way down in the ranks of my own class. Dad’s advice for doing well in college was interesting. “Don’t take notes in class. Just commit to listening well. Then view every exam as an opportunity to show the professor how much you’ve learned.”

But Dad and I were very different. Maybe that’s why we got along so well and why I was very attached to him. Through all the ups and down of my life, he’d always been in my corner. Success or failure, compliance or rebellion didn’t matter as much as my being his daughter – and I never once doubted his love.

When the Northwestern application arrived in Champaign, it was full of difficult questions requiring lengthy essay answers. After writing my name and address, I stalled, not sure I should even proceed.

But Nate urged me on, one question at a time. Then he edited my responses by eliminating half of the babble I’d used to pad my answers.

It took several days, but my application and I finished on a positive note with the question, “Have any of your family members attended North- western?” I was thankful I had three names to put down: Dad, my Uncle Edward (Dad’s brother), and my Uncle Jack (Mom’s brother).

Nate and I walked to the mailbox together to send off the application. “If I get in,” I said, “I wonder if I can even do the work. If I don’t get in, maybe that’ll be a good thing.”

He challenged me to stay positive. “I’m sure you’ll get in.”

Back at the apartment Cathy came over, toting our chilled chocolate candy – which was ready to be wrapped. We’d done our best to find appropriate boxes, though some had been used for other things.

But when we lined them all up on my pull-down ironing board, it was a sight to behold. We sealed the boxes and divided them up between us with our goal of homemade Christmas gifts now in view. And we’d spent very little money.

As Nate and I got ready for bed that night I said, “You know what? I think making chocolates and candles is probably more up my alley than studying in grad school.”

But I shouldn’t have even said it, since I knew how he would respond. “Don’t worry,” he said. “You’re gonna love it.”

“I will show you the most excellent way.” (1 Corinthians 2:31)

Newlywed Love (#104)

Posted on November 7, 2017 by Margaret

October 1-2, 1970

Indian Summer was over, and the first frost had blanketed Champaign. We were delighted to be using our fireplace again and often ate dinner in front of it.

Both of us were glad we hadn’t succumbed to the summertime temptation to move. I had wanted to exchange our fireplace for Country Fair’s swimming pool, but now their pool was closed after just 3 months – and we would get to enjoy cozy fires for the next 6 months.

We continued our evening walks (dressed in jackets and shoes now) while talking about the many decisions we would soon have to make. When our lease ran out in August of 1971, we’d be moving… but where? Which city? What address? And would Nate be a civilian, or would the Army own him? If the Army, where would he be stationed? Which state? Or… the worst question mark of all… would he be sent to Vietnam?

If he wasn’t on active duty, might he be working at a law job? And just to be prepared for this possibility, when should he take the Bar Exam? Would he pass it on the first try? And if not, where would he work before being able to re-take the exam? And where would I be working? Without certification and with provisional openings now eliminated, what would I be doing?

Nate and I would lie awake in bed long into the night pondering these questions. But no matter how we guessed what might happen, not one question had a firm answer. The process was exhausting, and though we knew God would eventually replace every question mark with a period, the not-knowing was wearing.

Finally, we decided the best approach would be to dwell on whatever had been decided – the things without question marks.

Our faith in Christ came first and was strong. We were being spiritually nourished at our church and enjoyed a mentor-type relationship with Pastor Ralph and his wife Lottie. We had supportive, loving families on both sides and a bright future. And with friends galore, our calendar was full of happy get-togethers.

As we talked quietly in the safety and comfort of each other’s arms, we counted our marriage as one of the very best things without a question mark. Our newlywed year was almost over, and through the months we had become more and more attached, never bored or frustrated. Actually, there were many days when we just couldn’t get enough of each other.

Both of us felt free to be ourselves with no need to play any relationship games, which made for a stress-free marriage and a happy home. Though the list of questions loomed large and sometimes seemed to threaten, as we drifted off to sleep their influence almost always faded — having given way to the rock-solid affirmations that didn’t have any question marks at all — and never would.

“You have been called to live in freedom… Use your freedom to serve one another in love.” (Galatians 5:13)

Newlywed Love (#97)

Posted on October 13, 2017 by Margaret

September 6-7, 1970

A blog note:

Our daughter Birgitta and granddaughter Emerald (right) will be arriving tonight for a happy weekend in Michigan.

Then on Monday, my college roommate Julie (below) will be coming with her friend Ming for the rest of the week.

Because of these festivities, the blog-saga of Meg and Nate’s newlywed year will be on hold for a week or so.

Eventually we’ll get them to their first wedding anniversary (November 29) before closing the book on them. First, though, let’s see how the 1970 Labor Day weekend finished out:

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After Lynn and Don’s wedding, Nate and I made a bee-line across two suburbs to Mom and Dad’s place in Wilmette – anticipating a reunion with our beloved doggie Baron. As soon as we saw him, Nate scooped him up and planted a kiss right on his nose. (Picture is of a second kiss the next day…)

We were astounded by how much he’d grown. Obviously, he was a happy, healthy poochie.

On Sunday, Mom hosted a mid-day dinner that doubled as a birthday party for Dad (#71) and brother Tom (#20), who was born on Dad’s 50^th.

Among the party guests was Tom’s good friend David (to the left of Tom), the guy who had become a regular babysitter for Baron. As the afternoon unfolded, Nate and I could see how close David and Baron had become, with “our” puppy responding better to him than to us.

On the drive back to Champaign early the next morning, we could see the writing on the wall. Since we had one more year in our apartment where dogs weren’t allowed, and since Mom and Dad seemed to continually be on the move, Baron would be spending more and more time with David — and end up in his family instead of ours.

Though we could rightfully claim him after our year in Champaign, by then that would be hard on both boy-and-dog. So, as we ticked off the miles toward home, we felt ourselves slowly accepting a difficult truth: we would need to begin separating from sweet Baron.

We drove along in silence trying to absorb this sad reality, and I remembered something David had said at the dinner. “I hope some day you’ll let me take care of Baron full time. That would be a dream come true for me. And my whole family already loves him.”

Though Nate was feeling low too, he came up with one positive thought. “I’m sure if Baron went with David, he’d let us visit him any time we came to town.” Since his family and ours were good friends through decades together at Moody Church, I knew that was true.

“Also,” Nate said, “letting your parents get out from under the responsibility we never should have put on them in the first place, is the right thing to do.” We both knew that, too.

By the time we pulled into our gravel parking spot behind the apartment, Nate and I reasoned that maybe the back story of why Baron had come to us at all was because God wanted us to deliver him to David. As hard as that was to think about, it would mean that everything was actually turning out the way it was supposed to be.