Category Archives: Suffering

Newlywed Love (#70)

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June 20, 1970

Mom has always been good at lifting the downhearted, and she proved it again when Nate and I arrived in Wilmette. After a difficult week and a miserable drive in an old, beat-up rented van, we walked into my folks’ house feeling deeply discouraged.

Toast and tea.Mom and Dad were watching the ten-o’clock news, each with a TV tray next to their favorite chairs. On the trays was the nightly snack they’d shared every evening for as long as I could remember: buttered toast with cheese, a piece of fruit, and a cup of tea.

Walking into this peaceful scene made our lives, by comparison, seem like they were in shambles – lack of income, sky-high bills, no work for Nate, unexpected summer school for me, the Army breathing down our necks, and a slew of life-shaping decisions looming.

Mom popped out of her chair when we saw us, welcoming us and lovingly taking Baron from my arms. “Sit down, you two,” she said. “I’ll make some more toast.”

By the end of the newscast, both of us were feeling better, nourished by kindness and good food. “How was the drive?” Mom said. Nate and I regaled them with van-stories that no longer seemed upsetting… only laughable.

“We practically had to push it ourselves to get it here without overheating,” I said.

“I guess,” Nate added, “that’s why the company’s called U-DO-IT.”

As we adjourned for bed, Dad said to Nate, “What do I owe you for the van rental?” And we were thankful he remembered.

Breakfast in 1140 yardWhen we came out the next morning, Mom had breakfast set up in the yard. Our backdrop was her clean laundry flapping on a clothesline like festive flags. She was practicing what she’d always preached: “Hang your wash out to dry, and your whole house will smell sweet.”

We ate our fill while Mom told us how eager they were to make little Baron part of their household routine (as she intermittently slipped him bits of ham and eggs). Nate and I knew they would treat him royally, and it would solve the problem of breaking our landlord’s rules.

Mom and BaronBrother Tom, home from American University for the summer, was driving for a limousine service. (“The pay isn’t great, but the job is fun.”) He arrived home just in time to help us load the van with the “treasures” Mom and Dad had collected for our apartment.

As we drove away – after dark, for the benefit of the van’s engine – our smiles were genuine.

 

The Baron and bone

 

Part of the reason was the decision not to part with Baron after all. We just loved him too much to let him go. So he was safely in my arms as I knelt on the hard van floor waving goodbye to my parents.

Something Dad said as we were leaving was pretty special, too. “I’m glad you’re furthering your education this summer. More knowledge can never hurt you. And paying for it is my job, so send all your tuition bills to me.”

“God loves a cheerful giver.” (2 Corinthians 9:7)

Newlywed Love (#59)

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May 6, 1970

As Nate and I looked forward to celebrating our 6 month anniversary, we were excited about celebrating something else, too. Since January, I had been steadily writing thank-you notes for wedding gifts —  and had only 3 more to go. Unfortunately, all 3 had become separated from the names of their givers, and I didn’t know who to thank.

Gift recordIn a letter to Mom, I described these orphan-gifts, none of them written in our blue record book, hoping she could help me solve the mystery. Amazingly, she remembered two of them, having had conversations with both givers before they made their purchases. But neither of us could figure out the third.

I felt terrible. It was bad enough people had waited so long for our acknowledgment, but never to hear from us? That was unacceptable.

Mom and I talked it over – again and again. Sometimes I woke during the night wondering who it was we were neglecting to thank. But after we’d explored all possible avenues of discovery, Mom challenged me to let it go. With her characteristic optimism she insisted the answer would come eventually.

Mystery giftThe stray gift was a three-section serving dish – carved out of monkey pod wood. For some reason Nate found that fascinating (and humorous), calling it “the perfect conclusion” to my long thank-you project. When I brought out the dish and put it in his hands, he laughed so hard he had to take out his hankie and wipe his eyes. Something about monkey pod wood just tickled his fancy.

When I told Mom I “wouldn’t rest” till I’d solved the mystery, she said she wasn’t as concerned about that as about something else that was greatly bothering her — and it had nothing to do with thank-you notes or monkey pod wood.

Vietnam protestors carrying anti-war signs during march from dowtown Market Street to Golden Gate Park's Kezar Stadium for rally called "Spring Mobilization to End the War in Vietnam".

She and Dad had been watching the nightly news as a fresh round of riots had broken out on the University of Illinois campus. Four unarmed students had been killed on the Kent State campus while demonstrating against the Vietnam War. In response, riots broke out on many university campuses, the U. of IL included.

Mom and Dad were concerned for their new son-in-law, knowing he was on campus every day. After watching the National Guard invade the campus once again, Mom wrote:

The violence at the U. of I. disturbs us. We know you are too sensible to become involved to endangerment.

But it was more than just that:

We Christians must rise to stand in our faith. Jesus Christ is the only answer to society’s dilemma. How now to communicate that? Youth longs for truth. If parents cannot reveal truth, and the church fails in her appointed task, how can the young be blamed?

I had a hunch that if Mom lived in Champaign, she’d be on that campus every night, walking among the rioters, using kindness to urge them toward peace. She would also look them in the eyes and listen carefully to their complaints. She loved kids, and they loved her – always. And in her mind, college student were kids.

She wrote further:

The poor students – those who are sincerely seeking education like our Nate. If students can’t learn and practice law, to what end will criminals go?

Mom was right. Her thoughts about kids longing for truth were more important than my angst over an anonymous gift – of monkey pod wood.

“It is wrong to say…. the Almighty isn’t concerned…. He will bring justice if you will only wait.” (Job 35:13-14)

Newlywed Love (#54)

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April 19, 1970

The school year was rushing to a close, which was bittersweet for Linda, Judy, and I. Our 80-mile round trip commute had amounted to 8 hours of chat-time each week, and somewhere along the way we had become fast friends. Linda and I, sharing a lunch hour, had even found a nearby park where springy weather beckoned.

Lunch breakSitting (or lying) on a sheet, we’d munch on water-packed tuna with crackers while soaking up the sunshine. Never mind that our quiet spot was next to an interstate overpass. To us it was a mini-vacation in the middle of a teaching day.

One evening we three couples gathered at our apartment for a fondue dinner. In the course of the evening, Linda and Ron, Judy and Bill each shared plans for the big changes coming after the school year ended. As we talked about these uncertainties, one of the girls said, “Sometimes my head hurts just thinking about it all.”

Nate and I shot a glance at each other. “Your head hurts?” he said. “You mean… like a headache?”

Judy and BillWithin a few minutes we learned that all three of us were experiencing the same regular headaches. Fascinated by this discovery, we talked further and figured out they only came on school days, never weekends.

(Left: Judy and Bill)

“I wonder if we’re allergic to something at school?” I said. “Like paint? Or mold?”

Although the headaches occurred only on weekdays, it wasn’t all weekdays. That eliminated the allergy theory. But we agreed they seemed to come in waves, several days at a time, followed by several days without them.

Linda and RonAfter swapping more stories and recalling dates, we concluded the headaches came only during the weeks I drove. And there was God’s answer for question #1 when we’d asked what was causing them. Answer? Our “cool” Mustang.

(Right: Linda and Ron)

We decided on a test. Nate and I would swap cars the next week, and I would drive the carpool in his VW. He would take the Mustang to campus, a much shorter commute.

At the end of the week we knew we were right – no Mustang, no headaches.

Nate took the car to an auto shop, explaining the problem while we kept our fingers crossed that it would be something simple… and cheap.

Before long the mechanic called. “I found your problem,” he said. “There’s exhaust leaking directly into the car. Your wives were experiencing carbon monoxide poisoning.”

Nate and I felt terrible, promising our friends the Mustang would be completely repaired before any further commutes.

But once it was fixed and I resumed driving it, the headaches returned. In great frustration Nate took it back to the shop. The mechanic made another repair, but that one failed too — along with a third. Finally Nate promised our discouraged friends that the Mustang would never again make the run to Danville.

It would be hard telling Dad of our misfortune, especially since we hadn’t yet paid him back for his loan to buy the Mustang. But the hard truth was, we were back in the car-shopping business. And that was God’s answer to question #2 when we’d asked what needed to be done.

“Call to me and I will answer you and tell you…. things you do not know.” (Jeremiah 33:3)