Category Archives: Submitting to God

Young Love (#142)

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A note to blog readers:

 

WheatonThis weekend I’ll be attending the 50th reunion of my Wheaton graduating class – 1967! I won’t be able to blog for a few days, but before I go, I want to bring this bride and groom to THE thrilling moment they’ve been anticipating for so many months – in room 334 at The Drake Hotel in Chicago….

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November 30, 1969… 2:00 AM

At long last Nate and I were on our honeymoon, and oh how we had looked forward to this day! Both of us were anticipating the fun of our first sex, but like the cherry on a sundae, we wanted to save the best for last.

PJsIn a silly little ceremony we pulled our night clothes out of our luggage and laid them on the bed, taking a picture. Nate’s PJs were still in their plastic package, and although my gauzy nightie was very pretty, I knew it was scratchy at the seams. We decided to ignore formality and go with comfort.

Nate had thought of everything and produced a bottle of wine, which had been chilling on ice. “I thought this might be a good idea,” he said. And of course it was. He got out of his jeans, and I put on my comfy old bathrobe.

 

ComfyThe Drake had given us two glasses to go with the wine, and as we sipped, we talked over the weekend, beginning with Thanksgiving dinner. Moving through each day, hour by hour, we laughed and compared our impressions. What stood out to each of us? What was funny? Surprising? How did we feel when we were being joined in marriage?

Relaxing there in the living room of our suite, I hung on Nate’s every word and couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

 

A ring...Suddenly he lifted his hand and said, “Hey, look-it! A wedding ring!” All I could do was dive in his direction and cover his face with kisses.

As the wine warmed us, our giggling increased, and anticipation started to build. We actually began talking about our first love-making experience and what the next moments would be like. We had read books and knew that the first time didn’t always turn out well. We shared our expectations of each other and ourselves, but agreed that with us, it was going to be nothing but pure pleasure.

Then, all of a sudden, it was as if we ran out of things to say… and we were there. Nate took my hand, and we moved into the bedroom. As we did, I remembered the night weeks ago at our apartment in Champaign when we’d gotten a bit too passionate and had had trouble stopping. “This time,” I said, “there’ll be no stopping us!”

And with that, we proceeded to lose our virginity – the gift we’d both worked so hard to save for each other on this very important day…

…pure pleasure indeed.

“Go ahead… Drink your wine with a happy heart, for God approves of this! Live happily with the woman you love.” (Ecclesiastes 9:7,9)

Young Love (#136)

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November 29, 1969… 8:30 PM

As our wedding reception continued, Mom and Dad stepped to the front and voiced an official welcome to their guests. They had been moving among them, greeting each person, and I wondered if they had even taken time to eat.

The welcomeMom looked tired but was thoroughly enjoying herself. Dad, too, seemed to be having a good time, and my mind wandered back to the stressful conversations we’d had about choosing a wedding date.

They’d wanted us to wait another year to marry, but we had no interest in that. Mom insisted we couldn’t pull together a big wedding in so little time, but here we were, on November 29th, and all was well. Everything had worked out after all, thanks mostly to Mom, and I felt tremendous appreciation for her.

IntroductionsNext up was the introduction of the wedding party. I went first and spoke a line or two about each of the ladies, including little Brittney, Marea, and our 6 hostesses. Nate followed with the men and boys.

Once again it impacted me that these particular people were the peers we loved most in the whole world, and here they were – all in one place at the same time.

Introductions.

What a unique phenomenon to savor at that moment…. and always.

Smiling.Mary, as maid of honor, and Ken, as best man, each gave a little speech, but without any alcohol on the menu, they didn’t do toasts. That kind of “worldliness” would have been frowned upon in such a conservative church in the 1960’s, so no one expected toasts or missed them. Besides, the meaningful words spoken were honor enough.

I asked the bridesmaids to once again sing their pretty song, since guests had said they were unable to hear them well during the wedding. The string quintet, which had been supplying classy dinner music throughout the meal, took a welcome break, and the girls gathered around the piano. None of them had expected this, but they cheerfully sang their hearts out while Helen Carbaugh accompanied with perfection.

Singing

It was a flawless performance, and their three-part harmony was angelic. I was so proud of them I could have busted out of my 48 buttons.

Dad eats.As the bridesmaids took their seats, my eyes caught a glimpse of Dad sitting by himself, consuming a plate of food. Mom had returned to circulating, but Dad had finally decided it was time to eat. And why not? After all, he was footing the bill.

We thanked everyone for coming, which would release them to go if they so chose, but encouraged guests to get more food and hang around. The photographer was setting up for family pictures near an empty wall, so we knew we’d be there for quite a while.

SmoochGuests continued clinking their punch cups together to make us kiss, and Nate and I relished the taste of every one of them… eagerly looking forward to some private kissing-time without any restrictions, once we were alone.

“Taste and see that THE LORD is good. Oh, the joys of those who take refuge in him!” (Psalm 34:8)

Young Love (#135)

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November 29, 1969… 7:00 PM

a BIG cake.It wasn’t until Nate and I had moved into the wedding reception room that we got our first look at the cake. I wondered why those 6 heavy layers didn’t collapse on each other with all that weight. Maybe hidden pillars had been baked inside, allowing each layer to rest on a firm foundation. We didn’t dare walk too close.

Although Nate had never been in love with sugar, I was a total sweets-freak and couldn’t wait to sample it. When the time finally came, it wasn’t without strict guidelines by the caterer. She, in turn, had been instructed by the bakery lady, who had marked exactly where we were to cut.

As we carefully followed the marks, hand-over-hand on the knife, I had a flashback to a childhood beach game called “Cut the Cake.” Kids would make a sand-cake with a toy bucket, then take turns slicing away pieces. At one point the whole thing would collapse.

Cutting.

 

But this was no game, and I hoped a cake-collapse wasn’t in our immediate future. We used a very sharp knife, and the caterer tutored us through the process. But still, it was a relief when the cutting part was finally done.

Tasty

 

 

 

 

Then it was time to taste! Nate didn’t savor his mouthful as much as I did, so after licking my fingers, I licked his, too. Delicious!

 

 

Cousin Patti approached then, wanting us to sign the guest book. She was following through on what we’d asked by getting everyone’s signature… even ours. But it made sense, since we, too, were wedding guests of the hosts: Mom and Dad.

Crown troublesNate asked how he should sign and suggested we use our new partnership to identify us. “How about Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Nyman?”

I loved knowing that the first use of my new Nyman-name would be in our wedding guestbook and agreed it was a great way to begin. Although the budding feminist  movement of the sixties would bristle at my not using my given name, I loved my new “Mrs.-Status” and was delighted to be partnered with this particular Mr. To me it was the perfect signature for the day.

Marriage CertificateWhile we were signing the guest book, Pastor Sweeting was getting signatures from the maid of honor and best man on a marriage certificate. Although it wasn’t as official as the marriage license we’d secured earlier at the Chicago City Clerk’s office, it did prove that Pastor Sweeting was the one who had tied the knot.

And then it was time for everyone to sit down again for our short program.

“This is how the holy women of old made themselves beautiful. They put their trust in God and accepted the authority of their husbands.” (1 Peter 3:5-6)