After visiting my old boyfriend and terminating our “friendship,” I told Nate all about it. As always, he thought the best of me and my intentions, praising me for defending our commitment to each other. Just as the biblical love chapter says, he never kept a record or wrongs – which freed him from fixating on the “what if’s” of that previous dating bond. By his fine example, he was teaching me volumes.

Meanwhile, I was excited about being reunited with my stolen Corvette, a highly improbable turn of events. Because I recounted the details in a phone conversation with Nate, there are no letters describing it. But here’s what happened:

Back in ’69 there was a weapons factory on the west side of Chicago. In driving normal rounds one day, in broad daylight, two policemen noticed a Corvette with its convertible top down, parked in a NO PARKING zone in front of that factory.

They stopped to investigate and saw that the starter cylinder had been removed. A screwdriver was in its place, indicating that the car was probably stolen. They checked their printed list of license plates and sure enough, they were right.

Each of them went to a separate corner of the building, awaiting the thieves. Soon, out they came, each holding a paper job application. As they approached the Corvette, the policemen showed themselves, and the guys ran off in different directions. One was caught and taken to the station. The other got away, but the first one quickly ratted on the second, and they picked him up at home.

The police had the car impounded, and eventually I got the thrilling call that my car would be returned. It had suffered from several days of hot-rodding, including a broken mirror, a damaged clutch, and several other things, but when I turned the screwdriver, it started right up.

June 26, 1969 – Dear Nate. The police tell me I’ll have to go to court to testify against the two car-thieves by saying I’m the Corvette’s owner. I have to bring documents and present them in front of a judge in a court room. The guys who took the car will be there. I’m sort of worried about that, but I don’t have a choice. Wish you were here to go with me.

June 26, 1969 – Dearest Meg. What a story! Don’t worry. Everything will work out fine. I’m glad you got it back. As for me, I’ll be moving back into the field for another bivouac. We’ll fire the rifles some more. My face and hands are badly sunburned, but your love and my faith in Christ keep me going.

June 26, 1969 – Dear Nate. I can’t wait to be engaged to you! It’s going to be the coolest thing! The ring package hasn’t arrived yet, but I’m sure it will soon. I’m going crazy in school with all the year-end paperwork, and it’s sad to think of saying goodbye to my darling kindergarteners. They’re like my own children. I hope I can hold back tears as I shake each hand and officially promote them to 1^st grade.

June 26, 1969 – Dearest Meg. I just finished another KP stint, 17 hours on my feet. And today after lots of marching, my feet are really sore. My captain just gave me platoon sergeant duty for tomorrow, a busy week. But I think they’re going to let the whole fort go over the 4^th of July. Our time together in Topeka is certain. I’m thinking about a special ceremony for when I give you your ring.

“Love always protects, always trusts.” (1 Corinthians 13:7)