Young Love (#110)

Posted on by

November 5, 1969

Sitting togetherAs Nate and I sat next to each other, my crying gradually tapered off and finally stopped. But we sat there a long time. He softly spoke words of loving commitment to me but promised we wouldn’t marry unless I was completely sure. I couldn’t imagine how difficult it must have been for him to speak those words. He was all-in, and I had one foot out the door.

Listening carefully, I did hear his pledge of unwavering love, but the massive wave of doubt that had washed over me had nothing to do with that. I’d never questioned the sincerity and depth of his love. As he continued to talk, though, I focused on something else he said, something that was far more important at the moment.

What I had heard was that he’d given me complete freedom to leave the relationship, if that’s what I wanted. Rather than trying to convince me to stay, he had opened the door. He was telling me I could exit without any misgivings.

I thought of how Christ-like that was. Jesus loves us but never forces us to love back. We can walk away if we want.

It was Nate’s willingness to let me walk away that began my turn back toward him. In my heart I knew that I sincerely loved him and that if I walked away, I would regret it for the rest of my life.

By the time we got up from our chairs, worn out from the ordeal, I had recommitted to him…. and to marrying on November 29.

“You have comforted me by speaking so kindly to me.” (Ruth 2:13)

Young Love (#109)

Posted on by

November 4, 1969

One of the major adjustments to marriage is learning to live with someone of the opposite sex. Most people have had roommates, but usually college-style – girls with girls, and guys with guys.

Nate was getting his first dose of the emotional difference between women and men as he watched me fall apart. The crying wasn’t as upsetting to him as the not knowing what to do. Try as he might, he couldn’t figure it out. And I either wouldn’t or maybe couldn’t tell him what was wrong.

Finally I said, “What if we’re making a mistake!”

“What kind of mistake?”

“Getting married I mean! I don’t know! I don’t know!”

There was a long pause, and I realized my crisis had just become Nate’s, too.

I continued sobbing. “The invitations are going out, and I’m not sure anymore!”

envelopesJust a few days before this we had talked about neither of us having any second thoughts and how great that was. Over the months God had reassured us again and again that he was in favor of our union. And both families were enthusiastic about our plans. So what was the problem?

Sitting down next to me, Nate put his arm around me and calmly said, “I want you to know there is nothing that can’t be stopped or unwound. The invitations haven’t been sent. And they don’t have to be.”

I’m sure his heart was pounding as he watched me unravel. No doubt he wondered if our relationship was unraveling, too. But if he was panicky, he never let it show.

BoxesI swept my arm toward our wall of gift boxes and kept going. “Yes, but what about all those? Oh my word…”

“All those gifts can be returned,” he said, pulling me close. “Don’t worry about any of that. We can fix it all. And there’s no law that says we have to get married on November 29.”

My only response was whimpering and sniffling. Nate reached in his pocket and gave me the handkerchief he always carried. Twisting that in my hands seemed to bring a measure of calm.

We sat this way for a long time without saying anything more. Nate never stopped holding me firmly, a powerful example of “love is patient.”

He waited for me to say something, and finally I did. “Am I going crazy?”

“Not at all. I think lots of people get nervous about getting married. It’s very natural.”

“Yeah, but…. it’s usually the guy,” I said, giving him a weak smile.

“Not this guy,” he said, kissing me on the forehead.

I buried my face in his chest. “I’m worried that marriage might be harder than we think, and we might be disappointed. You might be disappointed…. in me.”

“Never,” he said. “Each day that goes by, I love you more and more. Whatever comes along, we’ll be able to work it out. I know we will. I’m sure of that.”

The only thing I could think to do was grab onto him and hold on tight.

(…to be continued)

“When doubts filled my mind, your comfort gave me renewed hope and cheer.” (Psalm 94:19)

Young Love (#108)

Posted on by

November 3–4, 1969

The week began as they all did with Nate and I exchanging wedding work for school work. He was doing well in law school, and my 25 first graders were a constant delight. Ride-sharing with Linda and Judy was also going well and had become more than just a practical way to get to school and back. We were fast becoming friends.

IMG_5268Linda and I often lunched together, but Judy’s students were older and had a different schedule. It was a small school, though, and we ran into each other throughout the day. Linda’s 2nd grade was across the hall from my room, and if I wanted to communicate with her, I’d send one of my students over with a note. We often got silly in those notes, but it was a happy way to stay in touch.

The three of us had much in common. Both Linda and Judy were ahead of me in marriage – at least by a few months. Because of their experience, I asked lots of questions and was especially interested to learn how Nate and I could avoid any misunderstandings or arguments, once we were married.

White waterA pastor-friend had told us there would be surprises, some of them unpleasant. In trying to explain that, he’d said, “Picture two rivers coming together to join as one. At the place where they meet, the water churns, unable to flow in the same direction. Sometimes it gets so intense there’s white-water rapids. But downstream the water has calmed, and the river flows smoothly. The first year of marriage is sort of like that.”

As I lay in bed at night, I thought about what he’d said and everything else I’d been learning about marriage. I wondered if Nate and I would experience that kind of churning as we tried to move in the same direction. Maybe we’d even encounter some white water rapids – a troublesome thought.

And then something happened that surprised us both.

GlassWe had finished dinner, and I was sweeping up under the table when my arm bumped into it. A drinking glass tottered, and though I tried to catch it, it went to the floor – and broke into many pieces. It had no sentimental value and wasn’t one of my favorites, but at the sound of the breaking glass, I burst into tears.

Nate came running from the next room and didn’t know what to do – grab my broom or grab me. He wrapped his arms around both and said, “Don’t worry, sweetheart. We can buy another one.”

But his comment had missed the mark. My tears had nothing to do with broken glass and everything to do with an emotional upheaval. “I don’t care about the stupid glass,” I wailed.

Nate sat in a chair, pulling me onto his lap. “Then…. what is it?”

I jumped up with the broom and continued to cry, sweeping glass shards every which way. “I don’t know! I don’t know!”

Nate was desperate to comfort me but didn’t know how. “Has someone hurt you? Or did something happen at school today? Have you heard some bad news?”

“No!” I said, continuing to swing the broom.

He took the broom away from me and sat me down on the chair. “OK then. Just stop for a minute. Tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.”

I put my face in my hands and sobbed so hard I couldn’t talk.

(….to be continued)

“Search me, O God, and know my heart.” (Psalm 139:23)