Young Love (#134)

November 29, 1969… 6:45 PM

A done dealAfter Nate and I had untangled ourselves from our post-wedding twirl-around, Mary straightened my veil and train, and we headed to a room behind the platform to wait while the sanctuary emptied. Wanting to spare guests a 2 hour receiving line, we had decided against having one. Instead Nate and I would move through the reception tables to connect with each person.

Siblings.Our caterer was waiting for us with fruit platters and congratulations as we let the joyful reality of our marriage settle in – a lovely sensation. Shortly there was a call from our ever-present photographer wanting the bride, groom, maid of honor, and best man back on the platform for another round of pictures.


Posing-Posing...As we posed he had to repeatedly remind Nate to look at him and not me. I found it mind- boggling that Nate was still as smitten as he had been 3 years earlier when we’d met.

Though I’d never understand it, I knew I was a very fortunate bride.

OnwardAfter then it was off to the reception downstairs for a light supper. Cousin Patti, 15, was eager to handle the guest book. “I hope you can get everybody to sign!” I said. And I knew her infectious giggle would get it done.




In the church’s massive basement hall we found wedding guests having a good time while sharing a light supper. And I made a mental note to tell both Mom and Aunt Joyce how pretty the table skirts looked.


Our 6 sophisticated servers were busy making sure each guest had what they needed. I was thankful 3 apartment mates and 3 others had agreed to help and was impressed with how hard they were working.

Reception hostesses

(L. to R. Roommates Clarlyn and Marti, cousin Elaine, college chum Leslie, cousin Yvonne, and roommate Marsha)

Their long skirts, made from extra bridesmaid fabric, looked elegant as they gracefully moved through the room, never stopping to eat or drink themselves. True friends indeed.

PrivateAfter Nate and I took our places at the head table, the rest of the wedding party filled in on either side with their plates of food. It was a feast we all welcomed, and as we ate, Nate and I shared a few whispered words about what might happen after the reception.

Specifically we wondered about the shenanigans that might occur as we drove away from the church, though technically we had only 1 mile to our honeymoon destination. Champaign friends John and Cathy were ready to drive us away whenever we gave them the word. More than likely, though, we’d have to race around the city in the heavy Saturday traffic to lose our followers before we could safely go to The Drake Hotel.

For now, we would take pleasure in our wedding reception, in the people sharing it with us, and the tasty foods that had been prepared. It was going to be a long, late (and exciting!) night before we slept, and our dinners would fortify us for everything that lay ahead.

“You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you.” (Joel 2:26)


“You shall eat in plenty and be satisfied, and praise the name of the Lord your God, who has dealt wondrously with you.” (Joel 2:26)

Young Love (#133)

November 29, 1969… 6:30 PM

Our wedding was very solemn. We’d wanted it like that, especially after Pastor Sweeting had challenged us to make it so. Partying would come later, but as we were actually being ushered into marriage, we hoped there would be no silliness, no nervous laughter, no antics from the children. And there weren’t.

Pastor Sweeting.The pastor had told us that all the couples he married were special to him forever-after. When we met with him weeks before the ceremony, he said that by marrying us, he was voluntarily taking on some of the responsibility for seeing to it that our marriage was a success. “If you ever come to a place in your relationship, where things get too hard to handle, please come to me, and we’ll work it out together. Remember that.”

We agreed, but on that day, standing at the starting line, we couldn’t imagine ever having a lick of trouble before we reached the finish line.

Once all of us were assembled at the front of the church, the bridesmaids sang “Thanks be to God.” Without 7 microphones in front of them, the congregation didn’t get to hear the words as well as Nate and I did, but the message of the song was perfect for the occasion, and I was so grateful they’d been willing to sing.

Thanks be to God for love divine, 
The hope that round my heart entwines. 
For all the joy that now is mine, 
Thanks be to God.

When we came to the part of the service where Nate and I would say our vows, we faced each other, holding hands, and the pastor nodded for him to start. He recited each line perfectly, looking me square in the eye without any nervousness. I could see the depth of his sincerity on his face and drank in every word.

Then it was my turn. I had the feeling I was going to fail, but I forged ahead, knowing the pastor would help if I went blank.


“I Margaret, take thee Nathan, to be my wedded husband, from this day forward, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health…” and… what came next? I knew I’d skipped something, but kept going.

“…to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God’s holy ordinance, and thereto I give thee my word.”

Pastor Sweeting moved on as if I’d said it all without a mistake, and of course the minute I finished, I remembered the part I’d missed: “for richer or poorer.” I’d have to explain later.



In just a few more minutes the pastor was announcing us as “Mr. and Mrs. Nathan Nyman!” and everybody clapped. An exhilarating ripple went up my spine like none I’d ever felt, and as we headed back up the aisle, we clung to each other – like two who’d just “become one.”






Nate couldn’t wait to get to the back of the church, and we picked up speed as we walked up the aisle. Once we’d cleared the back doors, he grabbed me up off the floor in a big hug and began spinning me around.




I laughed with joy as my long train and veil wrapped around us like fancy gift-paper. We shared a very special kiss, and as our wedding party joined us two-by-two, we were still twirling.





From that point on, my crown was askew, but it was a small price to pay to get that passionate, timely kiss… a kiss that sealed our marriage, a kiss I’d never forget.

“Since they are no longer two but one, let no one split apart what God has joined together.” (Matthew 19:6)

Young Love (#132)

November 29, 1969… 6:00 PM

As my bridesmaids and I gathered at the door of the ladies lounge waiting for our cue to move to the back of the sanctuary, we heard the organ sound six distinct bells, indicating it was 6:00 and the ceremony was beginning. Though we couldn’t see from where we were, we knew the candle-lighters were moving down the double aisles with their tapers, lighting candles.

I glanced one last time at the card I was holding in my hand – the vows I would make to Nate – and realized I hadn’t really memorized them yet. But just then Helen appeared. “OK, girls. Time to go.” The bridesmaids, flower girl, ring bearer, and I paraded out behind her, single file like ducklings following their mother.

As we giggled with excitement, Helen put her finger to her lips. “Shhh!”

KenTomWe got to the back of the church in time to see Nate’s parents being seated by his brother Ken (L) and Mom heading down the aisle on Tom’s arm. (R)


Beautiful chamber music from a professional string group was softly playing at the front of the church (making me wish I hadn’t quit violin lessons in 8th grade). Their sound was heart-stirring and set the perfect mood.

Connie came around the corner with Dad in tow, directing him to stand near me. But before that, the photographer lined us up for one last picture before we went in.


The men, looking spectacular in their cut-away tuxes, were already in place at the front, though they were so far away, I could hardly tell who was who. But I knew Nate was at the bottom of the steps, ready to receive me, and I wished I could run down the aisle and throw myself into his arms.

But one by one Helen and Connie signaled each bridesmaid to start, reminding them to walk slowly. What a thrill to watch this procession of my 7 dearest friends, each one representing a particular time in my life. I had the sense that the 8 of us would never be together like this again… which made the moment even more significant.

Little onesAnd then it was time for our little ones to go, and Connie gave them a pep talk, telling them not to rush. “But,” said Brittney, “how many pieces of flower should I put on the floor?”

We told her to do whatever she wanted with the rose petals. She could drop them one by one as she walked or dump them all out together when she got there. It was up to her.

Timmy proudly carried his pillow with its dime store rings, his coat tails swinging back and forth as he walked. By the time they reached the front, they looked so small in that massive room they almost disappeared.

And then it was our turn – Dad and me. I looked at him and was overwhelmed with how much I loved him.

Father and daughterHe had put up with a great deal to get me raised (I hadn’t been the obliging daughter Mary had), and now he’d blessed me with the wedding I’d wanted. I was overwhelmed with gratitude and felt like crying.

But the tum-tum-de-dum of the organ’s wedding march sounded, our signal to start, so I looped my arm through Dad’s and hung on tight. And then, what is true for every bride became true for me. During the slow and deliberate walk down the aisle, my strong bond with Dad began to loosen. By the time he had escorted me to the front, my heart had made a seismic shift.

And it wasn’t difficult to let go of him and grab onto Nate – who was about to become my main man.


“Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us.” (Psalm 90:17)