Category Archives: Submitting to God

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)

Young Love (#93)

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RoomiesA special note:

Tomorrow I’ll be boarding a plane to Europe to spend time with my college roommate Julie, who lives in Germany.

 

Six kidsFrom there I’ll head over to England to meet my 12th grandchild, two-week-old Jonathan. I’m eager to catch up with his parents, too – Hans and Katy – and their five other children – Nicholas (8), Evelyn (6), Thomas (6), Andrew (3), and Elizabeth (1).

While I’m gone, I won’t be able to blog, but I’ll resume “Young Love” on March 1st.

See you then!

 

But first the conclusion to yesterday’s post:

September 20-21, 1969

As Mom and I drove the 12 miles from Wilmette to Arlington Heights, I ran through a mental list of all her “girlfriends,” trying to remember the names of everyone who would be at my surprise bridal shower. More than likely it would be her “club” of about a dozen women, and I knew them all.

When I walked in the front door, though, it turned out I didn’t really have to fake being surprised. The room was jammed with women, over 40 of them, three generations of happy faces all yelling, “SURPRISE!” And I was stunned! They had pulled it off after all.

At the showerWe spent the afternoon chatting, playing pencil-paper games with a wedding theme, eating delicious fancy foods, and opening mountains of beautiful gifts. I was speechless and couldn’t wait to report every detail to Nate.

His mother was there (below, center) having driven a long way, and also her two sisters, Nate’s aunts, who I was eager to get to know.

Shower with NateAnd better than everything else was the big surprise I got half way through the afternoon…. when in walked Nate! He had driven the three hours and braved a mob of women, most of whom he didn’t know, simply because he missed me. I was thrilled! And best of all, everybody got to meet my groom ahead of the wedding. It was a perfect afternoon.

After loading up all the “loot” (as Mom called it) and heading back to Wilmette, there was no time to go car-shopping with Dad, but that was alright. Mom volunteered her VW van so we could put the Corvette out of service and work on selling it. And we would plan to return on another weekend to hunt for a car.

When we got back to Champaign, there was a letter waiting from Aunt Joyce. Her words put our weekend of receiving lots of “loot” into the proper perspective. Isn’t it wonderful to be in love and belong to the Lord Jesus Christ? What more could one (“or two”) desire?

From Aunt Joyce

“Walk in the way of love, just as Christ loved us and gave himself up for us.” (Ephesians 5:2)

Young Love (#91)

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September 19, 1969

 

A busy womanMom was running around like a crazy woman trying to get everything done at home. Though I didn’t see most of it from my vantage point 156 miles away, her diary has a few blank pages with the words “So rushed!” on them. But she did take time to drop a note in the mail:

“Honey – It must be frustrating trying to plan a wedding from 156 miles away. Let us do all we can from here. It’s fun and it pleasures us. All is well here. Oh how I’d love to tuck you into a clean cozy bed and stand guard through a round-the-clock slumber for you! Just make a list of things you need done, and advise.” (I must have been complaining about being too busy, but compared to her, I was on vacation.)

And right about now Mom signed to have a contractor redo her kitchen. Our wedding was 9 weeks away, but ever the optimist (Dad would say gambler) she said, “It’ll get  done.”

TomAmidst all of this my brother Tom resurfaced from his school in the east, giving Mom another chance to mother him. Because she missed him so much, this was special to her – and she wrote it up in her diary. He’d forgotten to pack a suit coat and needed one a.s.a.p. for a university commitment.

Mom scrambled to think of someone she knew in Washington DC who would agree to deliver some cash to Tom (no credit cards then) so he could buy a jacket. But she succeeded and was thrilled that her “baby” had needed her again.

Our little apartment mailbox often contained inspiring messages, and we were glad others were sharing in our happiness. Aunt Joyce wrote, “All of us here are so excited for you, praying that the Lord will cause you to grow in Him as you establish another Christian beachhead, starting November 29, 1969!” She always had an upbeat way of presenting us with a new challenge.

Though we still didn’t own much and tried to stay out of the stores, one afternoon when I arrived home from work, Nate greeted me holding something behind his back. Grinning ear-to-ear he said, “I got you something!”

He brought his hands around and held up a pretty suede skirt. “On sale!” he said. “And I just had to see my beautiful fiancé in it!”

Suede skirtI was flabbergasted he would buy me such a personal gift and immediately tried it on. Then, getting goofy as we often did in those heady days, I became the model and he the photographer. He was pleased that I was pleased, and as the day ended, we felt closer than ever.

Around midnight every night, though, we took a page out of Cinderella’s story — Nate would head down the stairs and off toward his tiny rented room a mile away. It wasn’t easy kissing him goodbye, but just before he left, it helped to have a prayer time together, followed by the ritual of crossing off one more day on the count-down to our wedding…. when my “prince charming” would no longer have to disappear at midnight.

“Let love be genuine… Hold fast to what is good.” (Romans 12:9)