Young Love (#104)

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October 30 – 31, 1969

 

Now that we were less than a month from our wedding, it was time to ask my principal for some honeymoon time off. We would be marrying on the Saturday after Thanksgiving and hoped he’d give us a week beyond that. A seven day honeymoon would be short, but Nate needed to get back to his classes anyway.

Principal's officeWhen I approached Mr. Scarce in his office, he greeted me with a big smile and a couple of jokes about becoming a married lady. He was in a good mood, and I had the feeling I was going to get what I asked for.

 

Back in Chicago, teachers were given  3 paid “personal days” during the school year and a handful of sick days. In Danville it was different. And in Mr. Scarce’s opinion, a week’s absence wasn’t reasonable. I explained I wasn’t asking for paid vacation, just time off… but the answer was still no. He joked with me about a one-day honeymoon, but it wasn’t that funny.

When I walked out of the office, he’d given me permission to miss 3 days – without pay – mentioning that there were others who would love to have my job if I was unable to do it.

Since I was very grateful for that job, I smiled and thanked him for the 3 days but knew Nate would be disappointed. Not counting our actual wedding day (which would end at about 11:00 PM), we would have a whopping 4-day honeymoon.

When I arrived home and gave Nate the bad news, he responded with a couple of reasons why 4 days would be just fine. For one, we didn’t have much money and a short honeymoon wouldn’t cost much. Also, missing fewer classes would be a good thing. “We’ll just make the most of each of our 4 days,” he said. “Besides – once we’re married, every day will be a honeymoon.” (Spoken like a man in love.)

Knowing how few days we would have, it was easy to structure a plan. Rather than waste time traveling, we would honeymoon right in Chicago, a fascinating city with much to explore. But we’d have to keep our location a secret, or my family just might drop in uninvited.

John and CathyThat evening we asked one of Nate’s law school buddies and his girlfriend to come for supper. John was one of the groomsmen, and since he was located in Champaign, it would be easy for him to keep a secret. So we asked him to be our getaway driver. “It’s very likely we’ll be followed when we leave the church. Would you be up for helping us escape?”

 

Fondue potJohn and Cathy loved the idea and promised they would succeed at their assignment. As we shared a meal using the new fondue pot we’d received at the last shower, we strategized and came up with a complicated scheme — not only to evade mischief-makers when leaving the church but to hide Nate’s car and our honeymoon luggage somewhere in the city several days before the wedding.

After that, the only thing left was to plan our 4 precious honeymoon days in Chicago.

“Be content with what you have.” (Hebrews 13:5)

Young Love (#103)

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October 27 – 29, 1969

 

Although both Nate and I slipped quickly back into our work routines, we began the week knowing we’d be driving the 156 miles back to Wilmette on Friday. There was still a tall stack of wedding invitations to address and mail.

MusicSheet music needed to be sent to the 7 bridesmaids so they could memorize their singing parts, and we needed to figure out their headpieces. I hadn’t had the final fitting on my gown, and Nate had to work on the tuxes, getting the sizes from each of the men.

We needed to meet with the photographer and sit down with the pastor. Figuring out the order of service and writing up a program was on the long to-do list, too, as well as checking with the bridesmaids to see how they were doing sewing their gowns.

I needed to find hostesses for our reception supper in the church basement and chat again with the caterer. Mary and I wanted to shop together for wedding shoes and a few things to pack for the honeymoon. And coming from a family that loved to play jokes on people, we needed to find a getaway driver that could be trusted.

Through the week it was difficult to stay focused on teaching my first graders to read while my mind was on the wedding. My little girls quickly picked up on the excitement and peppered me with questions.

“What does your wedding dress look like, Miss Johnson? Will you have a veil? Is there a flower girl? What will she wear? Can we come?”

The brideDuring free time they drew pictures of brides and grooms, wanting me to take them all home – which I did. When I told them my groom was keenly interested in their artwork, they beamed and ran for the crayons. On the playground I found myself running around with the kids as if I was one of them, full of happy energy.

One thing the children didn’t like, though, was that I’d soon be changing my name. “But you’re Miss Johnson,” they said. I had them practice repeating “Mrs. Nyman,” insisting it would still be me, but most of them turned up their noses and said, “We’re gonna call you Miss Johnson anyway.”

PumpkinsNate and I bought pumpkins and carved them in our tiny kitchen, enjoying every minute together. The mailbox continued to bring fun messages from loved ones. My Uncle Edward from California (Aunt Joyce’s husband) wrote:

“My Magee – We sure look forward to the BIG event and a chance to meet Nate, with whom I must now share my love and affection. I do remember you both daily and am REAL happy for both of you. When you need me, call me collect!”

Uncle Edward.

When he said he “remembered us daily,” he meant in prayer – an awesome gift. Blessing was pouring toward us from all directions, and in our nightly prayer times we couldn’t help but be overwhelmed.

“Give thanks for everything to God the Father in the name of our Lord Jesus Christ.” (Ephesians 5:20)

Young Love (#102)

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October 26, 1969

 

As Nate and I drove back to Champaign from Wilmette, we needed to make a decision about my safety in the apartment. Living alone until we were married had left me vulnerable when several young men had attempted to break in. Nate expressed extreme concern, telling me it was his job to protect me. But neither of us knew how to fix the problem.

One bedHe could move in with me, but both of us knew we wouldn’t be able to resist each other physically, especially since we only had one bed – the one that pulled out of a closet. And we both wanted to hold out until we were married (which was already difficult enough). To compromise after we’d come this far seemed like too big a defeat.

As the miles clicked away, we discussed our options:

  1. Nate could move in with me, and we could try to maintain purity.
  2. We could continue to live separately and hope no further incidents occurred.
  3. I could advertise for a roommate on the university bulletin board (for one month).
  4. We could trust God to protect me.
  5. I could be more diligent about locking both locks on both doors.

The thought of option #1 brought immediate comfort to both of us. But to do that was to make a decision based on the fear something bad was going to happen. I liked the sound of #4. If I continued to live alone, counting on God to protect me as he already had, we could also count on him protecting our desire to wait for sex till marriage.

I said, “After all, those guys didn’t get in. And I wasn’t hurt.”

“Yes, but you were hurt emotionally.” Nate said. “Both of us were.”

“But, I know God will heal all of that.” I said. “He will.”

“But what if something else happens? And what if God chooses not to step in? I would feel like it was my fault…. again.”

“I guess we have to believe that if that ever happened, he’d walk us through a recovery then, too.”

Besides, it wasn’t just in the apartment that bad things could happen. And it wasn’t just to me. Nate could become a victim, too. There were no guarantees about safety.

DowntownWhen we pulled up to our apartment, we were still hashing it out. After making multiple trips up the stairs with our gift boxes, we finally sat down and looked at each other. The time had come to decide. I felt completely bonded to Nate and knew he would do anything to keep me from suffering in any way. But as I studied his face, I could see he was going to let me make the final decision.

In the end, I opted for a combo of numbers 2, 4, and 5. We would continue living separately, relying on God for protection (wherever we were), and would be more diligent about locking doors.

When Nate finally drove away that night, for the first time I thought it best not to stand in front of the window and wave.

“The Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.” (2 Thessalonians 3:3)