As February moved into March, the letters increased and often passed each other as they traveled south and north. Sometimes two would arrive on the same day. Nate’s longing to have a reciprocated love relationship was evident, but I couldn’t bring myself to commit. My church friend was saying some lovely things to me, too – “I really enjoy being with you and would love to spend more time together.”

From the journal:

I’m a little shaken when I think about the insecurity of my romantic situation. There is still (my church friend) who I’m not dismissing as a possibility for a deeper relationship in the future. Then there is the gung-ho Nate Nyman who is sure he wants to marry me. I think I’m growing to love him back, but the thought of marriage scares me silly!

Feb. 25, 1969 – Dear Nate. It’s 10:00 PM, and I’ve just returned from a shopping spree to have dinner at long last. And boy oh boy, does it taste good… a liver sausage sandwich with lettuce, hot tea, and jello for dessert (and about 6 peanut butter cookies thrown in on the sly).

Feb. 26, 1969 – Dear Nate. Since January when I moved into the apartment, I’ve gained 5 pounds. I feel fat. I need to concentrate and lose those pounds. I’ve always had an inferiority complex about my weight, especially about the chubby cheeks that dominate my face. My roommate was a huge help to me tonight as we talked about it. When I moved in here, I found a true friend.

Feb. 28, 1969 – Dear Meg. I think of you when I try to read law. I remember your softness and gentleness, and the good warm feeling I get holding you. I want to set that weekend dinner with my parents soon. I need to be with you.

Feb. 28, 1969 – Dear Nate. It’s very important to me that my family and friends get more familiar with you. I haven’t decided if that’s an immature characteristic or not. If you think it isn’t, let me know. If you think it’s immature, don’t tell me. (Just joshing.) Please counsel me and guide me in all such matters, as you feel led. If we ever got married, you’d have to counsel me endlessly – not a very bright prospect for you.

Mar. 1, 1969 – Dear Meg. I’m going to wear that fabulous knit tie to church on Sunday. Thank you again! Campus is a stick of dynamite. I fully expect fires, sniping, and the National Guard. Again last night I prayed for us. I love you, Meg.

Mar. 1, 1969 – Dear Nate. You’ll never realize how much I value your letters, including the time you put into writing and mailing them. My large kindergarten class has to perform in an all-school assembly, and guess who has been pressed into playing the piano? We’ve been spending lots of time in the assembly hall practicing. But they’re all adorable, no matter how they perform.

Mar. 2, 1969 – Dear Meg. My law courses this semester are: Evidence, Corporations, Administrative Law, Commercial Law, and Constitutional Law. But it can all be very boring. I love you.

Mar. 3, 1969 – Dear Meg. You have studiously avoided saying “I love you” to me. I know you want to be absolutely sure before you say it. Take your time, please. I never want to pressure you. Those three words are the indication I wait for. If it’s God’s will that those words come from your lips, then things will firm up in a practical way. If I have to wait a year to know your feelings, it’s OK with me. But I’d like to have you down here next year as a wife. I pray for us daily. I love you.

“The Lord will guide you always; he will satisfy your needs in a sun-scorched land and will strengthen your frame.” (Isaiah 58:11)