December 3, 1969
All too soon our honeymoon was over, and it was time to leave The Drake. We packed up, then stood together and looked around our room, promising never to forget all the happiness we’d known during our brief stay. The bell boy came to help us out, and I left the hotel just as I’d entered, carrying the giant bundle of my rolled up wedding gown and veil with the crown on top.
Nate went to retrieve his VW from the underground garage where it had been hiding for a week, and we loaded up. On a lark we decided to drive north to Wilmette before heading south to our apartment. Mom and Dad would be at Wednesday night prayer meeting, and we wanted to leave a surprise.
As we came in the kitchen door, I saw Mom’s diary open on the table with a note revealing how truly draining our wedding prep had been for her. On Sunday, the day after, she’d written, “Wondered if I could get thru Sunday – was bushed! Brot flowers home – some to ill folk.”
Even in her depleted condition, she’d taken time to divide the wedding flowers and drive them to various nursing homes, passing out bouquets to shut-ins.
Mom rallied quickly after that. On Monday she’d written, “All the pressures are gone! And now Christmas music descends!”
I had no trouble picturing her making multiple trips to the airport to deposit out-of-town relatives but then heading home to her 33 rpm Christmas records cranked on high volume – Lawrence Welk and Mitch Miller.
Glad to see all was well on the home front, Nate and I took a minute to spread my wedding gown and veil (with crown) on their freshly-carpeted living room floor. Tucking our thank you letters into my white shoes, we placed them neatly at the bottom alongside our gifts for them – then joyfully pointed our car toward Champaign.
When we got there it was late, but we bounded up to our 3rd floor “nest” like a couple of teenagers, anxious to get going on real married life. Nate carried me across the threshold, and then we readied for sleep. Though we didn’t yet have a bedroom set, it didn’t matter. We could spend the night together on the Murphy with no fear of “getting caught” doing something we shouldn’t.
Sitting on the edge of the pull-down bed, Nate wrapped his arms around me, and we talked about all that had happened in the week since we’d left our apartment. “Why don’t we pray?” he said. After voicing a long list of blessings, he thanked God for each one…. and spent several extra minutes thanking God for me.
And then we turned out the light.
“Let us continually offer up a sacrifice of praise to God, that is, the fruit of lips that give thanks to His name.” (Hebrews 13:15)