Category Archives: Marriage

Young Love (#102)

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October 26, 1969

 

As Nate and I drove back to Champaign from Wilmette, we needed to make a decision about my safety in the apartment. Living alone until we were married had left me vulnerable when several young men had attempted to break in. Nate expressed extreme concern, telling me it was his job to protect me. But neither of us knew how to fix the problem.

One bedHe could move in with me, but both of us knew we wouldn’t be able to resist each other physically, especially since we only had one bed – the one that pulled out of a closet. And we both wanted to hold out until we were married (which was already difficult enough). To compromise after we’d come this far seemed like too big a defeat.

As the miles clicked away, we discussed our options:

  1. Nate could move in with me, and we could try to maintain purity.
  2. We could continue to live separately and hope no further incidents occurred.
  3. I could advertise for a roommate on the university bulletin board (for one month).
  4. We could trust God to protect me.
  5. I could be more diligent about locking both locks on both doors.

The thought of option #1 brought immediate comfort to both of us. But to do that was to make a decision based on the fear something bad was going to happen. I liked the sound of #4. If I continued to live alone, counting on God to protect me as he already had, we could also count on him protecting our desire to wait for sex till marriage.

I said, “After all, those guys didn’t get in. And I wasn’t hurt.”

“Yes, but you were hurt emotionally.” Nate said. “Both of us were.”

“But, I know God will heal all of that.” I said. “He will.”

“But what if something else happens? And what if God chooses not to step in? I would feel like it was my fault…. again.”

“I guess we have to believe that if that ever happened, he’d walk us through a recovery then, too.”

Besides, it wasn’t just in the apartment that bad things could happen. And it wasn’t just to me. Nate could become a victim, too. There were no guarantees about safety.

DowntownWhen we pulled up to our apartment, we were still hashing it out. After making multiple trips up the stairs with our gift boxes, we finally sat down and looked at each other. The time had come to decide. I felt completely bonded to Nate and knew he would do anything to keep me from suffering in any way. But as I studied his face, I could see he was going to let me make the final decision.

In the end, I opted for a combo of numbers 2, 4, and 5. We would continue living separately, relying on God for protection (wherever we were), and would be more diligent about locking doors.

When Nate finally drove away that night, for the first time I thought it best not to stand in front of the window and wave.

“The Lord is faithful, and he will strengthen you and protect you from the evil one.” (2 Thessalonians 3:3)

Young Love (#101)

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October 24 – 26, 1969

As Nate and I struggled to make a wise choice on the heels of the attempted break-in, our calendars told us it was time to drive to Wilmette for my second bridal shower. This was a welcome change from all the negatives we’d been talking about, and we decided to postpone our decision about where Nate would spend his nights — at least for now.

InvitationThe wedding invitations had arrived but were sitting in boxes, unaddressed – and we were about a month from the wedding. Our plan was to get going on those, along with anything else Mom might want us to do.

She had written earlier, asking what kind of stamps we wanted on the invitations. In those days there was no such thing as a “love stamp,” but we did have several to choose from: the moon landing, a spray of pink flowers, a muscle car, and a cardinal. Then there was Mom’s up-and-away favorite, former President Eisenhower.

Ike.She’d written, “The P.O. puts new stamps out periodically, but personally, ‘I like Ike!’ He’s smiling because Nathan loves Margaret, and Meg loves Nate.” We liked her logic and joined her in voting for Ike.

When we arrived in Wilmette, my folks’ home was in complete disarray. The remodeling crew had torn their kitchen to the studs that very day, relocating its contents to the living room. We could barely squeeze into the house, and I wondered how Mom was holding up under this added inconvenience.

When we finally found her, she was sorting wedding music under the grand piano. Smiling broadly when she saw us, she told us how “absolutely thrilled” she was with the kitchen. “Finally!” she said. “Things are really moving now!”

JohnnyNate and I decided to take the invitations elsewhere – where we could spread out the project and leave it set up until finished. I called Aunt Agnes in the next suburb, Evanston, and asked if we could bunk with her over the weekend. She welcomed us gladly, and that first night we stayed up past 2:00 AM putting the first dent in a very long list. Aunt Agnes kept us going with coffee and ice cream, and of course we took time out to watch her favorite show, Johnny Carson.

Bridal showerTP brideThe bridal shower on Saturday was an extravaganza with 73 guests and just about as many gifts. Their generosity literally moved us from mis- matched hand-me-downs to the lovely look of fresh-and-new. And in case I still needed a wedding gown, they modeled several I could choose from – created with flowing TP.

 
After the shower it was back to our invitations. I wrote addresses, Nate stuffed envelopes, and Aunt Agnes fueled the whole operation with sandwiches, doughnuts, and bottomless cups of her delicious percolated coffee.

On Sunday Dad told me he hadn’t forgotten about our need for a second car and had been keeping his eyes on the want-ads. Apparently brother Tom needed a car, too, so Dad was doing double duty. Bervin had joined in on the car project, for which we were thankful. He knew best of anyone how to analyze what was under the hood.

As we drove back to Champaign Sunday evening, our little VW was crammed with gifts – on the floor, in the back seat, on my lap, at my feet, and piled tight against the hatchback window. We were a blessed couple indeed, and I couldn’t wait to bring such bounty into our fairly empty apartment. Although we didn’t have furniture in which to put our things, it would be a joy just stacking those beautiful boxes along the wall.

As the 150 miles flew by on our drive south, both of us knew it was time to talk again about my safety in the apartment…. and where Nate would sleep, starting with that very night.

“Now then, my children, listen to me…. Listen to my instruction and be wise; do not disregard it.” (Proverbs 8:32-33)

Young Love (#100)

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October 22 – 23, 1969 (Continued)

 
Chain lockWith a group of young men standing outside my front door and the threat of another coming in the unlocked back door, I took off running toward the back, terrified that I might meet a stranger coming in. I twisted the doorknob button, locking it tight, and slid the chain in place with trembling fingers.

Sliding to the floor, I tried to hold back frightened sobs by pressing my hand against my mouth. At the front door, the rough knocking and shouting continued. “C’mon. Let us in. Don’t you want your surprise?”

After what seemed like forever, the banging finally stopped. Had the neighbor across the hall heard? She was a single mom with a little girl and surely wouldn’t open her door. Might she have called the police? Were the young men worried about that possibility? Standing on the 3rd floor landing, they would be trapped if somebody came up the steps. Whatever the reason, they finally left.

After a long while, I crawled to the front window on all fours and carefully peeked down at the street. Their car was gone, and the crisis had passed. I debated calling Nate, but for two reasons I didn’t. (1) With only a hallway phone far from his room, it was doubtful I’d get to him, and (2) I worried that if I did get to him and then he drove to the apartment, those ruffians might be lurking nearby and harm him.

College students.As I calmed down that night, logic told me these boys were probably university students and had been out drinking with no premeditated plans to torment me. If I’d met them on campus during the day, they probably would have been harmless. But they’d seen me in the window and had reacted on the spur-of-the-minute.

Toward morning, all I could think of was how fortunate I’d been that they hadn’t gotten in. I was safe and unharmed, and I knew why. God had partnered with me through the whole torturous ordeal, protecting me. Though it was a sleepless night, I had much to think about.

When Nate arrived in the morning, I told him what had happened – recounting it calmly, downplaying the terror of those moments. His anger toward the boys flared, after which he folded me into his arms and apologized for not being there to keep me safe.

His frown lasted a long time as together we puzzled over what to do. If he spent nights with me from then on, what would happen to our desire to stay sexually pure? We were having a hard time as it was and knew we wouldn’t last the 5 weeks until our wedding. But if he left me alone, would those boys return? Or might something else just as bad happen?

Nate was a man bent on taking care of his woman, and I loved that about him. Admittedly, he wasn’t a fighter, but while he was with me, I felt protected.

Now what....We concluded that this scary incident had been devil-inspired, and there’s a verse in the Bible that says resisting the devil will cause him to flee. (James 4:7) So how did the Lord want us to resist? How could we make the devil flee?

We had two powerful temptations to resist – succumbing to chronic fear if Nate didn’t stay with me, and giving in to sexual desire if he did. Saying no to one surely meant embracing the other.

So there we were – caught between a rock and a hard place.

“Blessed is the man who remains steadfast under trial…” (James 1:12)