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)

Newlywed Love (#53)

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April 14, 1970

Nate hadn’t had a migraine for quite a while, a wonderful reality. Tension over his studies and the long research papers he was writing had ratcheted up his stress to an all-time high, yet he remained headache-free. “Maybe all these weeks of marriage have helped you,” I said, hoping that was the case.

Both of us were happy with the way things were going between us. Though marriage had brought some surprises, virtually all of them were good. One night at dinner we decided to list everything we’d learned about each other since the wedding, positive or negative.

The stereoMost were silly things: we both thought broccoli was the best vegetable; neither liked rock music; both had red as a favorite color; both liked to read the Bible every day; both were born in August of 1945; both loved sex; both had Swedish heritage; and both liked to play a new record over and over on my old stereo set.

After dinner that night I wrote about our table-talk in my journal:

The only things we don’t have in common are, he likes Cheerios and I hate them; he likes a big fluffy pillow, and I like a flat one.

Journal

I also wrote:

I have never been more steadily happy and optimistic in my life. When I consider our marriage thus far, I am pleased pink. Not any area has been a disappointment. Actually, all areas have become better, more meaningful, more dear than I’d ever anticipated.

There was only one cloud on the horizon. Now I began having headaches. They weren’t migraines and didn’t involve blinding pain or vomiting, but they were frequent, sometimes daily. Each morning I left for work headache-free. But by the time I came home, the throbbing forehead pain was usually back.

Doing dishesNate was concerned, running and doing for me in an effort to make things better. When I came in, he insisted I lie on the couch for a pre-dinner nap, gently taking off my shoes. He brought aspirin, cool water, a snack. He did the dishes and all the cleaning.

We wondered if I was eating something that was causing a reaction or if maybe the headaches were stress-induced by my upcoming Board of Ed interview in Danville. It was true that I was worried about my lack of teacher certification, hoping by asking for a school transfer I wasn’t drawing fresh attention to my weak status. But I had never experienced headaches like these, so frequent and unrelenting.

Although Nate was anxious about my teaching status too (along with many other things), each afternoon he set his issues aside and made a valiant effort to soothe my misery with uplifting words.

We began praying about the headaches, asking the Lord two questions: What was causing them? And what could be done about them? Within a few days God had given us both answers.

“The Lord grants wisdom! From his mouth come knowledge and understanding.” (Proverbs 2:6)

Newlywed Love (#52)

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April 11, 1970

Nate hadn’t had a haircut since the week of our wedding 4 months before, and I thought his long locks were beautiful. His mustache was the perfect compliment, but all that hair was beginning to get to him.

Many of his friends were growing their hair, too, but in his law classes, most continued with regular cuts. His parents, disturbed by his unkempt look, asked if he needed haircut money. They couldn’t understand why he would wait so long.

Long hairMy folks hadn’t said anything to us, though I’m sure they’d talked  in private. Maybe they even wondered if Nate was becoming someone different than the person they’d gotten to know before the wedding.

One day when I was running my fingers through his silky hair he said, “Kinda long, huh?”

“No! I love it.”

“I’ve been thinking about a haircut.”

“Really? Why?”

“I don’t know. It just looks shaggy.”

He thought long hair didn’t partner well with becoming a lawyer. “Before I start interviewing for jobs,” he said, “I’ll definitely have to cut it.”

“Sure,” I said, “but that isn’t for many months.”

I hoped he would keep it long but didn’t dare say it outright, knowing he’d go against his own preference to favor mine. So I made a suggestion. “How about shaving off your mustache and then seeing what you think?”

He brightened at that, and we had some fun with the process as he took off half at a time. The two of us were looking in the mirror at his clean upper lip for a minute when he said, “You know, I might just get a little trim around the back. I could keep the sideburns. Or I could get a regular cut and grow the mustache back.”

Barber pole.I knew then that one day soon he’d be walking through our door with his hair neatly cut. For all I knew, he’d already made the appointment. I appreciated that he didn’t want to disappoint me, though.

“Hair keeps growing, you know. If we don’t like it shorter, I can always grow it back.”

At that point, the only thing to say was, “You’re right.” The truth was, haircut or no, he would always be a dreamboat to me.

Later that day we opened the mail. A letter from Mom included this:

Don’t let Nathan shave off his mustache. I wish Dad would also grow one. Both of your grandfathers, Margaret, sported cookie dusters.

You can’t please all of the people all of the time.

“Avoid foolish controversies…. for they are unprofitable and worthless.” (Titus 3:9)