Newlywed Love (#115)

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November 2-3, 1970

As we moved into the month of November, Nate and I were closing in on our first anniversary. After 11 months of marriage, neither of us could imagine living without each other. And we talked about how life would seem empty if that ever happened.

I loved many things about my husband that I’d learned during our first year together, but one of my favorites was his willingness to talk to me. Whether it was a report on my day with the kindergarteners or a discussion of more serious matters, he was all-in on every conversation.

Through the year I’d thought about our marriage a great deal and had figured out what Nate needed most from me, recording it in my journal:

My role

I was learning from Nate’s sterling example of building me up and hoped to build him up the same way. He never tired of encouraging me and found creative ways to do so. For instance, he had established a tradition of buying one rose for me every Friday afternoon, knowing I would arrive home tired after a busy week. Each rose (a different color every time) was garnished with a fern or a sprig of wild flowers and put in a vase — with a loving note propped against it.

Love note from Nate

Contemp. card

I enjoyed the flowers but much more so the notes. He put creativity and thought into each one, and they served to bind us tightly together week after week.

Following his example, I began writing love notes, too, using contemporary cards. It was fun finding places to hide them around the apartment where I knew he’d find them while I was at school.

 

 

 

Contemporary card with love

One evening as we sat in front of a fire with a Carpenters album playing on the stereo, Nate asked if I loved teaching kindergarten in Danville as much as I’d loved it in Chicago.

I thought for a minute and then said yes, following that with a list of reasons. But as I talked, a fresh truth came to me. Though I loved my job and would have done it for free, during our first year of marriage a major shift had occurred. From the journal:

I love it as much as before… but the most exciting part of my day now comes when I turn my key in the 3rd floor apartment door on Healey street and that handsome blonde person is there to grab and kiss!

My love for teaching had been pre-empted by my love for Nate.

As delightful as my students were, they had been demoted. And as good as it was to be teaching them, life was even better when I was with Nate.

As I put that change into words for him, his responsive smile told me I’d inadvertently done what he had so often done for me. I’d built him up. And it felt good to both of us.

“A word in season, how good it is.” (Ecclesiastes 10:12)

Newlywed Love (#114)

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November 1, 1970

Today the delectable smell of chocolate filled the air as Cathy and I made our first attempt at dipping candy in her kitchen. Though failures outnumbered successes when we began, each of those lopsided pieces was thoroughly enjoyed — because we ate them all.

Dipping candiesEventually we got the hang of it, learning exactly how hot the dip should be so the chocolate would go on not-too-thick, not-too-thin. And we left our balls of crème centers in the refrigerator till the last minute when the chocolate was ready.

Quite a few pieces ended up at the  bottom of our dipping pan, but Cathy’s husband John volunteered to fish them out  –  then made quick work of them. We did grab a few, however, for me to take home to Nate.

By 1:00 AM we were looking at nearly 200 pieces of finished chocolate candy. Some were dark, some white, and some milk chocolate. All in all, we were both pleased – with the candy and also with each other.

In Cathy's kitchenCathy and I were doing well in building our friendship, and on this night, she helped me make an important decision – about a possible masters degree.

Cathy was part way through her own masters program at the University of Illinois and said, “Grad school is nothing like undergrad. Students are left on their own a lot, so that means less boring time in class. Mostly you just work at your own pace.”

That sounded pretty good.

As we continued to dip and talk, she said, “Why don’t you just apply? After all… what could it hurt?”

There were those same words Nate had used, and by the time I climbed the stairs at home, I’d made the decision. Nate was delighted to hear it and encouraged me to call Dad the following day to see what he thought. “He might be willing to go to Northwestern to pick up an application for you.” *

And so, Nate and I moved one step closer to defining our vague future. When we finally headed for bed, he watched me find a note he’d pinned to my pillow with a simple but precious message: I missed you.

Note from NateWhat a pleasure it was to be married to Nate.

“Love fulfills the requirements of God’s law.” (Romans 13:10)

* 7 miles from his home

Newlywed Love (#113)

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October 29-31, 1970

Halloween was upon us. Though we doubted trick ‘r treaters would climb to the 3rd floor, Nate and I bought a little candy, just in case. We also chose two pumpkins – one plump, the other tall. Carving them on the kitchen floor, we had as much fun as if we’d been grade-school kids.

Rounmd amd plumpTall and skinny

 

 

 

 

 

Afterwards we lit them up with a couple of old candle stubs and set them on the fireplace hearth where they seemed to decorate the whole room. The two of us sat in the dusky pumpkin-light for a long time, talking about future decisions.

That’s when Nate said something completely unexpected. “Have you ever thought about getting a masters degree?”

This came out of nowhere. “What do you mean?” I said. “A masters in what? And where? And how would we pay for it? And what about my brain? Doesn’t it belong in a kindergarten room?”

None of that stopped him. “Depending on what the Army does with me, it won’t be long till I’ll be supporting us both. And since Chicago is no longer hiring provisional teachers, maybe you should just go back to school.”

This was spoken by someone who loved being a student. I’d made only average grades in college and had never once experienced a rush of joy at opening a fresh textbook or reading a new syllabus.

“You could study writing,” he said. “Just think how much fun it would be to learn more about what you already love.”

He had a point. I’d been trying to sell some of my writing in recent weeks without any success, so learning more might help. “But could I even get in?”

Medill.“It couldn’t hurt to try,” he said. “And if we end up in the Chicago area, you could go to Medill, the journalism school at North- western.”

“Oh sure,” I said. “I’d never get in there.”

But as the jack ‘o lantern candles burned down and finally flickered out, I felt a little flicker of enthusiasm inside – about the school idea. Nate was right. It couldn’t hurt to try.

The next morning my kindergarteners came to class in costumes, and we set aside our regular schedule to party and to participate in the all-school Halloween parade. Many of the parents joined us, bringing extra treats, so the kids were sufficiently sugar-saturated by the end of the day.

Around 5:00 PM, I trudged up the steps to our apartment where Nate greeted me with kisses and questions. “How were the parties? What about the parade? Did the kids say anything funny today?”

“The whole day was a delight,” I said, “but I’m really tired. I didn’t expect so many parents, each one asking how their student was doing in school. I couldn’t remember who was whose mother or what each child had learned. It was stressful! We made it, though, and they all left happy. I’m just glad the weekend’s here!”

Nate’s weekend would be spent studying… but I would be happily dipping chocolate candy.

”Whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do it all for the glory of God.” (1 Corinthians 10:31)