Category Archives: Thankfulness

Newlywed Love (#51)

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April 9, 1970

Our buildingThese newlywed days were very special for Nate and me. Both of us realized it was a unique year, one we wanted to fully appreciate as we moved through it.

We planned to live in our apartment until the summer of 1971 (more than a year away).  But during that year, many life-directing decisions would have to be made, and we sensed that as we left Champaign, our blissful bubble might burst. Life might continue to be good, we reasoned, but how could it be THIS good?

Living roomNo matter where we would end up after law school, though, we were sure our little home on the 3rd floor of 620 W. Healey Street would always be a precious part of our history.

It was August of 1969 when we first began feathering the nest there. I had moved in after leaving Chicago, bringing very little with me. But 4 months later, a pile of wedding gifts had changed all that, and suddenly we owned all kinds of things.

Now, 4 additional months later, several furniture contributions were coming our way. Aunt Agnes was donating some of her things, and my folks were cleaning out their basement. The youth pastor was moving and blessing us with more.

As different items arrived, I found myself more and more interested in making our home attractive. Even though rearranging furniture wasn’t Nate’s forte’, he was appreciative of my efforts and was glad we actually had furniture to move around.

Living rmAfter the big things had found their places, I splurged on a few candles and some fake flowers. My 1st graders supplied wall art, and I made a giant wall hanging with glue and pom-poms (right). Winding thread around nails in geometric patterns gave us other things to hang, along with favorite photos. When we were done, the whole place looked homey.

Both of us loved returning to our little nest each day, and it was sad to think we might only be there one more year. Whenever moving day finally did come, we knew it would be a struggle to say goodbye.

The kitchenThat’s why, after everything was set up to our liking, we decided to take a roll of pictures, wanting never to forget the details of this special place and our first year of marriage.

 

 

 

 

Small photo albumThe picture-taking process was a lark. Many of the photos we took that night were not of our apartment but of each other, some of them slightly inappropriate for public viewing. But we hoped to have enough appropriate pictures to fill a small album.

After we ran out of film, Nate set the camera aside, picked me up, and spun me around. When he stopped, his face wore a solemn expression. He locked eyes with me, and I wondered what he was going to say.

“You know something? You’re really nice.” He was looking at me as if he’d just met me, right then.

Precious days indeed….

“You are precious to me. You are honored, and I love you.” (Isaiah 43:4)

Newlywed Love (#50)

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April 7, 1970

Mom wrote to us about once a week. These days she was using carbon paper to type 3 copies simultaneously, sending one to Tom in Washington DC, one to Mary and Bervin in Chicago, and one to Nate and me. Although Mary and Bervin got together with the folks regularly, Mom didn’t want them to miss her letters.

She sometimes waxed eloquent and frequently taught spiritual principles she didn’t want any of us to forget. In this week’s correspondence, Mom had chosen to write about the blessing of family, particularly her 3 kids.

Here, there and everywhere around 1140 [their address] are bits of evidence of Mary, Margaret, and Thomas, each here to warm the cockles of our hearts (whatever they are!) and to bless us with precious memories. You are such wonderful children. The only explanation for each of you is God’s goodness, plus your great, great father. As I’ve said before, we couldn’t have all the children in the world, so we just had the best!

Mom raves

Mom had married late for brides of 1941, at the ripe old age of 28. Although she had always been the life of every party, she was the last of her friends to marry. Maybe young suitors wondered if they could handle her spirited personality.

Mom loves DadThen along came Dad, 13 years older, stable and steady, and she was the one he wanted. Mom never got over her good fortune in his choosing her, and she let him know it every single day of their 50 years married – running to him with hugs, kisses, and wild squeals of delight every time he walked in the door.

Her dream was to have a house full of children, but after having Mary and I, her #3 was a miscarriage that became life-threatening when she hemorrhaged. She lost enough blood to make survival doubtful.

But Mom had a determination to live, and after massive set-backs that landed her at Mayo Clinic for months, in the end she came through just fine. Her desire for a dozen children, however, was not to be. “No more babies,” her doctor said. “You could die.”

There was no such thing as birth control in the 1940’s, but Dad wisely determined they would comply with the doctor’s orders. He began keeping a calendar of her cycle himself, not trusting Mom — with her passion for children and penchant for taking chances.

Dad’s system worked well for 4 years, but then, quite unexpectedly, news came of a 3rd pregnancy. This put Mom in heaven and Dad into the depths of worry. Though Mom never admitted to tricking him, we were all sure she did. If so, she did it ingeniously, giving birth to Tom on Dad’s 50th birthday.

At the beach.Dad was relieved that Mom had made it through her pregnancy without incident, and of course he adored his little boy. And Mom? She graciously accepted that this bonus baby had completed her family. Maybe that’s why she frequently made reference to having “not all the children in the world, just the best.”

As for Mary, Tom and I, any way we looked at it, one thing was certain: we’d grown up immersed in love – and also the responsibility to pass it on.

“Let no debt remain outstanding, except the continuing debt to love one another.” (Romans 13:8)

Newlywed Love (#48)

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March 30, 1970

As the Easter break came to a close, Nate and I headed back to our schools feeling refreshed and ready to tackle the last weeks of the academic year. The only negative was knowing it was time for me to talk to Principal Scarce about changing my classroom assignment for the fall.

PortraitI badly wanted to go back to teaching kindergarten and knew it would upset him if I left his 1st grade empty. That was because both Judy and Linda planned to leave McKinley, too. Judy’s husband was about to get his grad degree, and they would be headed to his first job in New York City. Linda had found a teaching job closer to Champaign. That meant nearly half of Mr. Scarce’s classrooms would need new hires.

I decided to bite the bullet and head for Mr. Scarce’s office first thing Monday morning. As anticipated, when I gave him the news he wasn’t happy. “Well….,” he said, “my kindergarten teacher isn’t going anywhere, so you’re out of luck.”

I told him I knew that and had planned to look at other schools. “I don’t know of any kindergarten openings,” he said, “and Danville has only a handful of elementary schools.”

Despite his discouragement, I had to try.

God must have agreed with me that I was better at teaching kindergarteners than 1st graders, because when I called the Board of Ed, one kindergarten slot had just opened. I made an appointment to interview several days later and hoped no one else would get there ahead of me.

Although my sweet 1st grade kids and I were making it through the year, it wasn’t without stress.Kindergarten classroom

Teaching kindergarteners didn’t even seem like work. Maybe it was the joy of shepherding them through their first school experience or the time available to sing, dance, and play together.

Maybe it was the absence of educational testing. Or maybe I just loved their cuteness. One thing I knew was that I’d rather read to children than teach them to read.

Back at the apartment that evening, I brought Nate up to date. As we talked, it was evident the heaviness of law school had settled back over him. Rather than feeling bad about that, though, I was thrilled to be the wife who was privileged to relieve his stress.

PoetryAs he studied, I got busy baking a batch of sugar cookies, his favorite, frosting them in different colors. Then, after making a pot of coffee, I coaxed him into a study break. As he munched, I presented him with a simple “poem” I’d written for him.

 

 

 

 

Schmooch.After that, I enticed him onto the couch where I learned that a quick sexual romp can be a better stress reliever than even a whole batch of frosted sugar cookies.

“True to your word, [Father], you let me catch my breath and sent me in the right direction.” (Psalm 23:3, The Message)