Category Archives: Thankfulness

Young Love (#81)

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August 15-17, 1969

Nate and I had pressed our parents hard to agree to a wedding well ahead of when they thought we should marry. Rather than wait until after he had graduated from law school, we insisted we would be just fine if we married while he was still a student. Being separated had worn down both of us, and we’d had our fill of it.

BaconThe most important piece of that plan, then, was that I find a way to bring home the bacon while he studied. And the best way to do that would be to teach school.

My former teaching position in Chicago had fallen into my lap with very little effort, despite not having a degree in education. So I mistakenly assumed the same thing would happen in Champaign — teacher shortages were still the norm around the country. It was a shock to hear they wouldn’t hire me there, no matter what my experience, because they knew I wouldn’t stay more than a year or two.

There was still one possibility, though.

If I was willing to clock some significant miles every day, I could teach in an outlying district. Danville, Illinois, 40 miles from Champaign, was on a list indicating they had one opening left at a school named McKinley.

My school.

Nate and I went back to the phone booth in front of 7-Eleven, and I called the principal. Talking to him was encouraging. His one opening could be mine, he said, if I wanted it. I was thrilled, and felt God was orchestrating this good fortune for us. But then came the bad news. “I assume you’re qualified to teach 1st grade,” he said.

“First grade?” The job hadn’t been for kindergarten, as I’d thought.

I knew absolutely nothing about teaching 1st grade except that it was a critical year in every student’s education. Children needed to be taught the fundamentals of reading and math among other things, and it was mandatory that a 1st grade teacher prepare them well for the more complicated curriculum of 2nd grade. I felt that if I took the position I’d be in over my head.

So, when the principal asked if I was interested, I was surprised to hear myself say — with gusto — “Absolutely. I’ll take the job!”

At McKinley SchoolNate and I drove out to see the school that afternoon, and the custodian let us in. As I stood in front of 25 empty desks in the 1st grade classroom, I wondered why on earth I’d said yes. But my tenderhearted fiancé put his arm around me and said, “Don’t worry, Meg. It can’t be that much different than kindergarten. And the most important thing is that you’ll love the children, no matter what their age.”

I bought that, and stopped worrying. It would be fun to get acquainted with a roomful of new students and to make friends with the other teachers, one in each grade. Besides, how hard could the job possibly be?

“My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” (2 Corinthians 12:9)

Young Love (#78)

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August 2-7, 1969

 

Registry

Wedding planning kicked into high gear during the first week of August. Nate and I made a quick trip to downtown Chicago to finalize all the choices that would go on our gift registry. A seasoned employee at Marshall Fields helped us narrow things down, and by the end of the morning, she had checked all the appropriate boxes on the bridal registry forms.

 

 

LoveNate and I held hands throughout the process, sneaking a kiss now and then as we envisioned our first “nest” (as he called it) decorated in the vibrant colors we chose: orange, yellow, and kiwi green.

We also spent time perusing used car lots, looking for a practical replacement for our impractical Corvette, but we weren’t quite sure what we were looking for. We would need a loan from Dad to swing any purchase, so we decided to wait till after the Corvette had been sold before approaching him. Since it had a couple of mechanical issues, it might take a while. Besides, we were happy to cross one item off our long list.

Our caterer would be a dear family friend, and Jeanette’s casual attitude helped immensely as she outlined practical suggestions for the “light supper” menu we wanted. In those days, most receptions were held right in the church, so that part was easy. Choosing a giant wedding cake was a little trickier. How do you feed 500 people from one cake? We tabled that decision till later.

Mom at Moody organ.Mom promised to look into music options, since she was the musical one among us. She announced she would be playing either the piano or organ for 6 other autumn weddings and could hunt through sheet music for all of them at once. We wondered how she would keep it all straight but decided not to worry about it… and crossed it off.

Choosing and ordering invitations at a printer didn’t take long. Both Nate and I were traditionalists and decided to mix elegant with tried-&-true. At the last minute we eliminated the response card and its envelope, trying to save Mom and Dad some money. If it upset Mom that she wouldn’t know how many guests would be coming, she never showed it… probably because she had become fully absorbed in redecorating their new home.

Mom was meeting with kitchen consultants, tentatively planning to gut the old kitchen and get it completed before the wedding. She was also shopping for drapes, carpeting, furniture, and paint colors. Her plan was to paint every room herself, labeling it “therapy for when I get too busy.” She wasn’t joking.

Carole and Reggie's weddingNate and I wondered when we’d be able to get back to Champaign to seek my employment and find an apartment, but by the end of that first week in August, we were off to Rockford, Illinois, where I was a bridesmaid for Carole, a close friend from Wheaton.

The wedding rehearsal fell on my birthday, but Mom insisted we have a party anyway. Nate and I did our best to get there quickly but arrived near 10:00 PM… which is when the party began. Little did we know that jam-packed days like these would soon become the norm.

“Make every effort to keep yourselves united in the Spirit, binding yourselves together with peace.” (Ephesians 4:3)

Young Love (#75)

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July 31, 1969

Kids galore.Mom was having trouble saying goodbye to the home where she’d raised her children and had so much fun doing it. The morning after the move, she drove back to 708, let herself in, and waited for the new owners to arrive. While she waited, she went to work painting some basement shelves she hadn’t been able to finish in the final flurry to move out the day before.

I can’t imagine what the new owners must have thought when they pulled in to the driveway after their closing and saw Mom’s car there. But she had ingratiated herself with this family in previous weeks, forging quick friendships. She probably threw the door wide open for them with the same warm welcome she’d given a thousand other guests, explaining that she was there to finish painting… after which she would “get out of the way for their moving van.”

The new owners told her their truck wouldn’t be arriving until the next day and that they had just stopped by to be sure the house was empty. In a short while they departed, inviting Mom to stay as long as she wanted – and she wanted.

Once the painting was done, she did what she really came to do. She walked upstairs, entering each room, lying down on the floor, arms outstretched. She wanted to talk to God.

In each room

In the master bedroom, she thanked him for everything she could think of that had gone on in that room – for a husband who had always been faithful, for successful recoveries from illnesses and surgeries, for time with children who climbed in with her during thunderstorms, for a daughter who donned her bridal gown in that room just before getting married, and much more.

CompanyMeals galoreShe moved from room to room, each time spreading herself out on the floor and mixing memories with gratitude to God… no doubt with plentiful tears.

After she finished upstairs, she went to the main floor, and her prayers must have been lengthy as she thought about hundreds of get-togethers she’d held in that home.

 

Surely she thanked God for the chance to be a Christian witness to neighbors and friends in those rooms, especially grateful for the children and teens who accepted her frequent invitations to “C’mon over.”

She even went to the basement where so many church socials and gatherings had taken place, and my guess is that when she stretched out on her laundry room floor, she wept hard.

Many of her conversations with the Lord had taken place as she ironed, her favorite household chore. She stood at an old wooden ironing board often, ironing sheets, towels, tablecloths, handkerchiefs, even Dad’s underwear.

As a kid it seemed to me she looked for excuses to heat up her iron and stand there – but maybe it was because that was her holy space. I remember many a strained conversation (since I was her wayward daughter) that occurred as she ironed. The tension between us was always mitigated when we could focus on a pillow case going from wrinkled to smooth, rather than looking at each other.

Empty houseWhen Mom finished her worship time in each room that day, she took a few pictures of her empty home and walked out the door. Amazingly, though, she already had plans to return – just one more time.

“Be thankful in all circumstances, for this is God’s will for you who belong to Christ Jesus.” (1 Thessalonians 5:18)