Newlywed Love (#7)

Posted on by

December 16, 1969

Newlywed blissDuring these early weeks of marriage, Nate and I were focused on each other and our new life together almost to the exclusion of everything else (except our schools, of course). On the surface it seemed selfish, but both of us believed God was endorsing it.

We’d heard that in biblical times, when a couple married, they’d take a “gap year” from all other pursuits to learn to live with each other lovingly and successfully. The culture believed this one-on-one exclusivity would result in a rock-solid foundation for a marriage that could last a lifetime.

Of course there were then (and are now) an endless array of challenges that can get in the way of reaching that goal. As Nate and I talked about this, we learned that focusing on each other meant something different for him than it did for me.

A noteFrom the first day we met on a blind date as college seniors, he had chosen to put me in an honored place in his mind. Since then, not one hour (probably not even 5 minutes) had gone by without him thinking of me, and in his letters, he often told me so.

He strategized how to please me and tried to come up with new ways to prove his love. His mind was focused on me long before mine was on him, but that never stopped him. Getting married, then, was simply an extension of that way of thinking.

For me, our one-on-one newlywed year would accomplish something different. After dating a number of boys, some for years at a time, I came into our marriage with some heavy romantic baggage. In my heart I very much wanted to erase all of those boy-girl memories, and I hoped as Nate and I delighted in each other, all that history would fade away.

As the days passed, that seemed to be happening, and I was grateful. But female minds resist emotional housecleaning, and less than 3 weeks into our marriage, a memory-crisis came out of nowhere.

Random thoughts about the relationship I’d had just before Nate (the non-Christian boyfriend) suddenly began popping into my head on a haphazard basis. They were not thoughts of longing or love but were just indiscriminate memories that took me by surprise…. and took me back to that time. They were unwelcome and disturbing.

I desperately wanted to fix the problem and went immediately to Nate, asking him what to do. Nate was not offended and thanked me for coming to him. But he talked about the danger of this, which I recognized, too.

His first suggestion was that together we pray about it every day, with strong confidence that God would put a stop to it.

We asked the Lord to stand guard over my mind in a way neither of us had the power to do. We knew his desire was that our marriage thrive and remain pure in every way, which included our thoughts. He didn’t want past relationships to contaminate it… and neither did we.

As time went by, our cries to God helped immensely. My dating past began surfacing less and less, and one day I realized I hadn’t thought about my old boyfriend throughout that day.

Just us two.I often told Nate, “My mind and heart belong completely to you, and I love you with everything in me, head to toe. I love no one else in the way that I love you. You are, and always will be, my number one.”

As we happily enjoyed each other’s company one-on-one, I sensed that absolutely nothing was ever going to come between us. God had powerfully answered our prayers by shutting the memory-door and locking it.

But then something happened…. to kick it in.

“Be on guard. Stand firm in the faith. Be courageous. Be strong.” (1 Corinthians 15:13)

Newlywed Love (#6)

Posted on by

December 15, 1969

GiftsAs the days passed toward our one month anniversary, it was time to get serious about writing thank you notes. The task was daunting, and in 1969, tradition dictated that the bride wrote them all. I loved to write and didn’t have trouble saying what my heart was feeling, but several hundred of them? Overwhelming.

Nate encouraged me to write 5 each evening, starting at the beginning of our gift record book and proceeding straight through. “Maybe on the weekends you could write a few more than that,” he said. “And then they’d all be done by the end of March.”

Keeping up that kind of steady pace sounded like a test of self-discipline I didn’t have, but I set up a little “writing corner” on a metal TV tray in our still-sparse apartment – a pen, note cards, and our record book.

Note cardsWhen we’d ordered the wedding invitations, we’d also requested note cards with our married title on the front, and envelopes to match. So as I opened the first one to begin writing, I got sweet encouragement by reading that lovely new identification: Mr. and Mrs. Willard Nathan Nyman. Looking at that over and over would spur me on.

One side benefit of writing thank you’s was the regular conversations I had with Mom when I called for addresses. She encouraged me to go at it with enthusiasm, although she added some healthy pressure. “People were very generous to you and Nathan,” she said, “so try to be generous with your words as you write. Make each note card very personal.”

And so I began…. but by the end of the first week, I had already fallen behind. After a long day of teaching with an hour commute at each end, the higher priority for my evenings was to spend time with my new husband. He, too, wanted to be together “to play a little” after a day of high stress.

Also, I was still figuring out how to cook, and after we’d eaten a minimal dinner, we’d often take a long walk around the neighborhood. Holding hands as we went, we’d dream out loud about some distant day when we might own a house like the ones we passed as we walked.

Neighborhood.

Pointing to an English Tudor I’d say, “That’ll be my house.” He preferred a saltbox colonial or anything else with symmetry. Talking about owning a home some day and a togetherness that stretched that far into the future warmed me in some hidden place deep inside, and both of us felt a gentle peace in knowing we’d always be together.

“In all toil there is profit.” (Proverbs 14:23)

Newlywed Love (#5)

Posted on by

December 13, 1969

After my second day back at school, Nate and I had something special to write on our wall calendar – our first social engagement as husband and wife.

Principal Scarce and meMr. Scarce, our McKinley School principal, had come to my classroom asking if the two of us would come to his home the following weekend for a multi-purpose party: to celebrate our wedding and also the Christmas season. All 7 teachers would be invited, and he hinted there might be a “roast.” It was easy to guess who. (Right: Principal Scarce and me)

More than happy to keep the wedding celebration going, Nate and I accepted. When party day arrived, it was extra special because my carpool buddies Judy and Linda were there, too, along with their husbands. All of us were newlyweds enjoying our first year of marriage.

It seemed odd to be driving the 40 miles to Danville on a Saturday evening, but we were proud to have our men along and eager to introduce them to our work cronies.

Scarce partyAs soon as we arrived, Mr. Scarce pinned a gauzy curtain to my hair. He had a little trouble, since I was wearing a wig. (Nate and I had decided to grow our hair for a while  – he a mustache and me a longer ‘do. His ‘stache was coming along nicely, but every day was a bad-hair day for me.)

“After we eat,” Mr. Scarce said, “we’re going to have a mock wedding.” (Above, Linda and Ron behind us.)

Although the roasting part of the ceremony was a bit racy, I reminded myself we weren’t in church. Part of it was a summary of the bride’s qualifications for marriage, including her ability to ditch teacher training days (…apparently forgiven but not forgotten).

Scarce party.At the end of it, Mr. Scarce presented us with a fake marriage license, pretending to be shocked as he announced we weren’t really married after all, because of an error on the license. We played along, always mindful that our host was also my boss.

The evening was a success, and I was grateful to be back in the good graces of our principal… sort of. I knew I was going to search for a new school the following year where I might be able to teach kindergarten again, and no doubt he wouldn’t like that. But a good recommendation would be critical.

Although Danville hadn’t required me to attend adult education classes in order to continue teaching, I still wasn’t officially certified. If the need for “provisional” teachers disappeared, I’d be out the door —  which would mean financial ruin for Nate and I. As he attended law school, my small paycheck was our sole support. With loving families behind us, we knew we’d never starve, but we wanted very much to do life on our own.

“The Lord is your keeper… He will keep your life. The Lord will keep your going out and your coming in.” (Psalm 121:5,7,8)