Nate’s and my letters picked up in number, coming and going 2-3 a day. It seemed that each time we had an idea to share, we wrote it down and mailed it out. Our correspondence was full of excitement about our future together, especially the tantalizing prospect of living near each other, at long last.

Whenever possible, we traveled across the 156 miles between us for face-time the old fashioned way, sometimes driving, sometimes riding the train. In one letter Nate detailed a variety of activities we might participate in as newlyweds, his way of suggesting a secular/religious balance.

May 11, 1969 – Dearest Meg. We can attend the secular social events of the Junior Bar Association, Phi Delta Phi (my law fraternity), and church and Sunday school for the necessary religious involvement. We can teach Sunday school to share in Christ’s work on earth. We can make new friends together, friends who never knew us as single people.

May 11, 1969 – Dear Nate. I can’t write a long letter right now. I’ve yet to have my devotions and prayer time, and it’s nearly 1:00 AM. A big thunderstorm has suddenly hit, and I wish you were here so we could snuggle together with our eyes closed, listening to the storm. Some day…

May 12, 1969 – Dear Nate. The Sunday school superintendent where I’ve been teaching 10-year-old girls for 2 years [left] is pressuring me about my inconsistent attendance, even though I provide a qualified sub when I’m gone (visiting you). I’ve started asking around for someone who’s willing to take over my class permanently. With our rapidly changing future, I want to be severed from my Chicago responsibilities when events start popping!

May 12, 1969 – Dearest Meg. If we marry in January, we wouldn’t be in financial hardship, but it wouldn’t be plush. But this financial closeness would give us tremendous unity of spirit. Monetary austerity forces people to stop thinking about the non-essentials (cars, clothes, etc.) to concentrate on more important commitments.

May 12, 1969 – Dear Nate. Thank you for a wonderful phone conversation this afternoon. I could talk to you forever, if only it weren’t so expensive. We are made for each other. I’m just thrilled that you’re coming to Chicago this weekend! I’ve already told lots of people at the church College and Career Class about “my guy” coming to the picnic, so don’t be surprised when they stare at you, ooogle-eyed over handsome you, as they get to know how wonderful you are! I want all my friends to grow to love you… and my family, too.

May 12, 1969 – Dearest Meg. This summer, after Army camp (6 weeks), I want to line up a part-time job for the coming year. I’ll look into claims adjusting for an auto insurance company or bill collecting for a bank. You get the idea. After that, we’d have one semester and the bar exam to go, then the Army, 2-4 years depending on the type of commission I get. Also I can start looking into apartment rents. And most importantly I can be with Meg in the hot sun of the tennis courts and at the municipal pool in Urbana. I love you very, very much.

May 13, 1969 – Dear Nate. One day next week I’m having my folks to the apartment for dinner, and I plan to present an organized outline of the things you and I have decided. They tell me they are anxious to know. Thank you for being the great consistent person you are and will always be. Good night…. Love, Meg

“Let each person lead the life that the Lord has assigned to him, and to which God has called him.” (1 Corinthians 7:17)