June 22-26, 1970
After returning to Champaign from Wilmette and unloading the rental van well after midnight, Monday morning came with a bang. Nate returned to the Union parking lot, hoping for a day job, and I stood in long lines registering for summer school.
Tuesday brought another job strike-out for Nate, so he signed up for something new. Bouncing through the apartment door, he told me he was going to be a salesman! When I asked “of what?” he said, “Pots and pans – selling them door-to-door.” I had a bad feeling about this but didn’t say so, telling him we would celebrate big-time when he made his first sale.
Tuesday for me included a phone conversation confirming I would be student teaching in a 2nd grade classroom under a teacher who didn’t have as much experience as I did. But I also learned that a friend from Danville would be in my afternoon seminars, a little light in a dark situation. Heavy on my mind, though, was my inability to make any money the whole summer.
On Wednesday I received the 2nd grade curriculum and my student teaching assignments. Optimism faded when I realized how time-intensive it was going to be. Meanwhile, Nate was doing his best to make his first sale of pots and pans… at $350 a set. [$2100 today] No wonder he wasn’t having any luck.
On Thursday Nate kept up his cold-calling, and I met a classroom-full of students. I also tried to make friends with my co-teacher but could tell she didn’t want me there. Even my steady attempts at humor fell flat. In my journal that night I wrote, Student teaching has me racked already, and I hate it – the seminars, too.
By Friday, Nate and I were both down in the dumps once again, wondering how we would ever live through the summer. But we tried to do for each other what my folks had done for us the weekend before – encourage and nourish. Though I knew Nate was no salesman, I cheered him on: “It’ll happen next week for sure!” He did the same for me: “Only 8 more weeks, Meg. I know you can do it!”
That night, at the end of a hard week, we invited friends Cathy and John over for watermelon at 10:30 and felt much better afterwards. They were having some of their own struggles, and misery loves company.
But best of all was the note I found at the end of that long week: Dearest Meg. Thank you for your warm and affectionate noontime reminder to me. I’ll love you forever.
And I knew no matter how hard things got, by the end of the summer, our love for each other would still be strong.
“I can do everything through Christ, who gives me strength.” (Philippians 4:13)