Category Archives: Marriage

Young Love (#92)

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September 20, 1969

 

When the weekend came, I hoped to return to Champaign behind the wheel of a new-used car. Dad’s opinion would have to factor in heavily, since he would be fronting half the money, so I figured we would be leaning into the practical. Nate and I had probably seen our last sports car, but it had been a fun run.

I also knew Mom’s friends planned to surprise me with a bridal shower over the weekend, which seemed almost too good to be true. Presents!

More velvetAs for Nate, he’d be spending the weekend in Champaign bent over his books. I knew he needed to study, but it was really hard to say goodbye.

At my parents’ house, Lynn (one of my bridesmaids and my oldest friend) came over. We dug into the bridesmaids’ velvet again, cutting out the pieces for the 3 gowns she had graciously agreed to make. And of course our work turned into hilarious fun, too.

After that, Mom and I sat down with her red notebook of “wedding stuff” and ripped through a long list of decisions she’d already researched. We started with a lovely task, choosing the cake.

CakeThe bakery said there was a new trend in wedding cakes, frosting them in white as usual but spraying bits of color on them to match the wedding colors. We chose a burgundy spray to go on grapes made of white frosting, encircling each layer. It would be white cake with a chocolate topper to be saved for our first anniversary.

Next, we talked about wedding favors. Mom had already decided on wrapped pieces of groom’s cake packaged in small white boxes with our names on them. She said her women-friends would handle those – folding the boxes, cutting fruit cake, wrapping the pieces, and filling the boxes.

Then we chose the flowers, burgundy-tinted rubrum lilies and wine-red roses for the bridesmaids’ to carry, with a “waterfall” of white stephanotis for me. Mom suggested big white sprays of mums, roses, and gladiolas across the front of the church and centerpieces of pink, red, and white carnations on the reception tables.

Flowers

My head began to spin, but she continued.

For the head table it would be lilies and roses, and then there was a long list of corsages of many varieties, and of course boutonnieres. She had sketched a picture of glowing candles and giant bows to decorate the aisles (two of them at Moody Church) with wide ribbon-garlands between.

She lost me at about the word “centerpieces” as giant dollar signs throbbed in my head. Poor Dad.

MusicMom already had a handle on the music. Having played for countless ceremonies, she was a pro. I wanted a traditional wedding, so she suggested Wagner’s “Bridal Chorus” (Here Comes the Bride) for the processional, and Mendelssohn’s “Wedding March” for the recessional. Just the words “Wedding March” made her jump to the piano bench and play a grand version of it for me – causing joyful goose bumps!

I had been thinking about music, too, and was hoping for two things: a stringed quartet to play as people were being seated, and a song that would be sung by a very special choir of seven: the bridesmaids. I knew they could all carry a tune and hoped they would agree to do it. It would be a song of thanks to God representing the feelings Nate and I would be having at that moment. Mom liked the idea and suggested the hymn, “Thanks Be to God.”

Thanks be to God for love divine, the hopes that round my heart entwine; for all the joy that now is mine, Thanks be to God!

We were ripping through one item after another when Mom abruptly closed her notebook and said, “How about riding along with me on an errand to Arlington Heights?” I knew it must be time for the bridal shower and hoped I could act surprised.

“The Lord will withhold no good thing from those who do what is right.” (Psalm 84:11)

Young Love (#91)

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September 19, 1969

 

A busy womanMom was running around like a crazy woman trying to get everything done at home. Though I didn’t see most of it from my vantage point 156 miles away, her diary has a few blank pages with the words “So rushed!” on them. But she did take time to drop a note in the mail:

“Honey – It must be frustrating trying to plan a wedding from 156 miles away. Let us do all we can from here. It’s fun and it pleasures us. All is well here. Oh how I’d love to tuck you into a clean cozy bed and stand guard through a round-the-clock slumber for you! Just make a list of things you need done, and advise.” (I must have been complaining about being too busy, but compared to her, I was on vacation.)

And right about now Mom signed to have a contractor redo her kitchen. Our wedding was 9 weeks away, but ever the optimist (Dad would say gambler) she said, “It’ll get  done.”

TomAmidst all of this my brother Tom resurfaced from his school in the east, giving Mom another chance to mother him. Because she missed him so much, this was special to her – and she wrote it up in her diary. He’d forgotten to pack a suit coat and needed one a.s.a.p. for a university commitment.

Mom scrambled to think of someone she knew in Washington DC who would agree to deliver some cash to Tom (no credit cards then) so he could buy a jacket. But she succeeded and was thrilled that her “baby” had needed her again.

Our little apartment mailbox often contained inspiring messages, and we were glad others were sharing in our happiness. Aunt Joyce wrote, “All of us here are so excited for you, praying that the Lord will cause you to grow in Him as you establish another Christian beachhead, starting November 29, 1969!” She always had an upbeat way of presenting us with a new challenge.

Though we still didn’t own much and tried to stay out of the stores, one afternoon when I arrived home from work, Nate greeted me holding something behind his back. Grinning ear-to-ear he said, “I got you something!”

He brought his hands around and held up a pretty suede skirt. “On sale!” he said. “And I just had to see my beautiful fiancé in it!”

Suede skirtI was flabbergasted he would buy me such a personal gift and immediately tried it on. Then, getting goofy as we often did in those heady days, I became the model and he the photographer. He was pleased that I was pleased, and as the day ended, we felt closer than ever.

Around midnight every night, though, we took a page out of Cinderella’s story — Nate would head down the stairs and off toward his tiny rented room a mile away. It wasn’t easy kissing him goodbye, but just before he left, it helped to have a prayer time together, followed by the ritual of crossing off one more day on the count-down to our wedding…. when my “prince charming” would no longer have to disappear at midnight.

“Let love be genuine… Hold fast to what is good.” (Romans 12:9)

Young Love (#90)

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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.

First grade.

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.

Mom's diaryThey 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.

Letter to Nate

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.

Velvet.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)