September 15-18, 1969

The school year was in full swing, and Nate dove into his studies with unflagging diligence. I was learning the names and personalities of 25 first graders, steadily gaining confidence that I could teach them after all.

The carpool with Judy and Linda was working out well, except for the days when I had to drive the Corvette. On those days, poor Linda sat hunched over “on the hump” between the two bucket seats. This confirmed for Nate and I that we needed to sell our good-looking but impractical car. We couldn’t do that, though, without having another set of wheels lined up.

I wrote a letter to Dad, presenting the problem, asking if he might give us a small loan, depending on what we got for the Corvette. We arranged that I would make a trip home in a couple of weeks to go car shopping with him.

Later, feeling bad about not being able to manage life without Mom and Dad’s frequent assistance, I wrote them a long letter of gratitude. They’d done so much to get us moved to Champaign, and had agreed to let us get married earlier than they’d wanted. I apologized for not being home when the wedding needed so much attention, and thanked them profusely for everything I could think of.

They were pleased (see diary, left), and Mom wrote back. “I just re-read your letter. It really ‘sends’ me, darling. There’s been a letter to you in my heart and a book about your engagement too, but somehow I cannot relax in this ‘boxed’ atmosphere [not yet unpacked after their move], so I will forego until a later date. Suffice it to say you have all our love and prayers.”

Then she got down to practical matters. “I’m sure Dad will loan you the money for a car. Then it can be up to you to decide what car to get. I see you’ve learned that prestige costs convenience…. although you’ll never get younger.”

Mom always sparkled.

She also wrote that it would be her joy to resume planning our wedding and then signed her letter like this: “Thank my Nathan for just being Nathan. And your Mama adores you, Margaret Ann.” How thrilling it was to read that she viewed Nate as “hers,” a sure sign she was growing to love him.

A few days later, Nate received a letter from Mom on another topic. It came to the mailbox at his rented room.

The real fun was about to begin! And though Nate didn’t show me Mom’s note, later he hinted that something special was going to happen the weekend I went home. When I guessed, he spilled the beans. But I was glad I knew ahead of time.

Mom had lined up all kinds of wedding-related appointments for that same weekend, in addition to the bridal shower and the car shopping with Dad. We also needed to mail out the last of the burgundy velvet for the bridesmaids’ gowns.

And Mom made one final suggestion for that weekend – that I donate blood to a family friend who would soon undergo surgery.

“In humility, count others more significant than yourselves.” (Philippians 2:3)