Young Love (#7)

The count-down was on for a visit from Nate after Christmas. My non-dating, long-distance relationship with him became convoluted, though, when another suitor, this one from my church, began including me in his weekend rallies with Campus Crusade. He was spiritually deep, and I enjoyed getting to know him without the slightest twinge of guilt about Nate. After all, neither he nor I had made a commitment to each other, though it was obvious he wanted one. This friend and I began sitting in church together and taking long walks along Chicago’s lakefront. But I thought it best not to mention it in my letters to Nate.

lotsa-lettersDec. 13, 1968 – Dear Nate. Here’s a question for you: did you used to call me “Meg” in words or just in writing? I forgot. (Actually, writing is words, I know, but you know what I mean.)

Dec. 16, 1968 – I called you “Meg” in my letters and in person. Can you tell that it’s pretty obvious I would like to make a go of it with you? I could drive up from Champaign more often if we had a more serious relationship. Being alone with you sounds good. Actually double good.

Dec. 19, 1968 – Nate, thank you for your nice letter. I read it 4 times, smiling through all 4 readings. (And now I’ll bet you’re wondering what you wrote!) It was very complimentary. But maybe it was just my mood. By the way, are you Swedish? I told my family you are coming after Christmas, and they began discussing your name, Nyman. Dad held to his opinion that it was Swedish. I didn’t think so, but added that you do have blond hair.

coffeeDec. 22, 1968 – Dear Meg. Yes, I am of Swedish descent. My great-grandfather, Peter Swan Nyman, came from Southern Sweden to the U.S. in the 1860’s. He was a clockmaker. Granny has an old picture of him; he has a mustache that looks like the Kaiser’s. She also has a huge Swedish Bible published in 1762, which he brought with him from Sweden. You spoke of my blond hair as a Swedish trait. Here’s another…. I like coffee.

Dec. 22, 1968 – Dear Nate. I don’t owe you a letter yet, but I’m writing anyway. I want to tell you something. Tonight after church we had a party for about 35 kids, ages 19-25. They stayed until 1:30 AM, and I was co-hostess. I was kept busy serving food, instructing in games, pouring coffee, but at one point had a quiet moment to observe everyone having a good time. And before I knew it, my thoughts were with you. I wished you were among the guests, because I wanted to talk to you. That’s all.

Dec. 23, 1968 – When I returned from Army Drill, exhausted and cold, I found your note in the mailbox. It warmed me! You’re the best little Svenska flicka! Many times I’ve thought how much I’d like to have you down here as a student so we could see each other often. A very close and natural relationship would develop.

God’s wisdom… “gives knowledge and discretion to the young.” (Proverbs 1:4)

Young Love (#6)

As the holidays approached, Nate was feeling swamped with watching over his freshman guys and trying to keep up with a mountain of homework. But he was not too busy to continue writing letters.

As my former dating relationship gradually loosened its grip on my heart, I began, ever so slightly, to turn toward Nate in a way I never had, thinking about him more often through each day’s routine.

Nov. 24, 1968 – Dear Nate. Your involvement with these 72 undergrad men and their well-being is really something! You’ll have a wealth of experience after your job as their counselor is over. I’ll pray for your wisdom to make the decisions that are best for your men and the school. I’m already praying for your safety. And I’ve decided to mail you a Thanksgiving surprise, since you have to stay on campus through the holiday.

the-holidaysNov. 29, 1968 – Dear Meg. Without your special turkey, Thanksgiving would have been another mere holiday; with your great, multi-colored [paper] bird, it was a celebration! Thank you! I would like to visit you after Christmas. Perhaps the weekend of Dec. 27th-28h? How is that for you? By the way, after this semester, law school is half over.

Dec. 2, 1968 – Dear Nate. Thank you for writing. Your letter was good, and the 27th and 28th are reserved for you. I’m glad you’re coming. It would be great if neither one of us were disappointed with the other. I hope we will be glad. As for me, I’m very busy with my students and getting ready for Christmas. When my head hits the pillow each night, I’m utterly exhausted, but happy. I’m thinking of letting my hair grow again. I just found some pictures of senior year when it was long, though, and I look pretty witchy. What do you think?

Dec. 6, 1968 – Dear Meg. I will see you at the end of this month! I hope very much that neither of us is disappointed. My men are acting up. Last Thursday night I bailed one out of county jail on disorderly conduct arising out of a dispute in a card game. Saturday night I bailed another one out on possession of stolen property. If anyone ever asks you if college kids are wild today, you can answer yes. But to answer your question, let your hair grow long. I love it that way.

Dec. 8, 1968 – Dear Nate. The 8th grade class at my school asked me to be their chaperone on their class hayride Dec. 22. I was flattered, but here’s how they asked: “We’ve talked it over and decided you weren’t over the hill yet and might be good on a hayride.” They weren’t joking. Boy, did I feel old at 23.

Dec. 9, 1968 – Dear Nate. I’m trying to remember exactly what you look like. So I looked in my old photo album from senior year and found a picture of you talking and gesturing with my father on our front walk. Do you remember that? Below the picture is one of me with two girlfriends. Boy, was I fat.

nate-and-dadDec. 12, 1968 – I do remember standing on the walk in front of your house with your father. I also remember very much and fondly, his daughter. The thought of college does bring many good memories — especially senior year, meeting you.

“In their hearts humans plan their course, but the Lord establishes their steps.” (Proverbs 16:9)

Young Love (#4)

As the summer of 1968 moved into autumn, the Vietnam War dominated our nightly news. Nate went back to law school, continuing with his ROTC commitment, and I went back to teaching kindergarten in Chicago.

It was a tumultuous time for our nation with violence erupting even on college campuses, but Vietnam wasn’t the only war going on.

On a more finite level, I was experiencing my own inner war, attempting to handle an 18-month relationship with someone I should never have fallen in love with in the first place. But knowing what’s right and acting on it can be miles apart. Meanwhile, the letters between Nate and I became more frequent.

thoughtfulSept. 10, 1968 – Dear Meg. Thank you for your letter. I applied for and have now become a graduate advisor in an undergrad dorm, which at the moment has me rather nervous. There was a demonstration at the student union; police arrested 300 students. This makes me quite edgy. I would like to come to Chicago, but this job leaves me few weekends. I definitely would like to see you again. Absolutely love to.

Sept. 19, 1968 – Nate, you sound like you have your hands full down there! We heard all about the arrests on the news. Be careful! Tonight I’m miserable with 102 degree fever.

Oct. 17, 1968 – I am very sorry to hear of your sickness. Take all your medicine and sleep a lot. And read your Bible, little girl. This counseling job has a million men (actually 72) depending on me at different times for many things. Such as letting drunk boys in their rooms at dawn. Be good and rest, my little vixen.

thinkingOct. 20, 1968 – Dear Nate. Your letter came at an opportune moment. Today is a blue day for me. I’m through with my strep throat, but I’m really going buggy. I think my dating (the other guy) is dragging me away from the joy of the Lord. There is a constant struggle within me to tell him we should break up and not even be friends, and then in the next minute we are arranging another date. Inside, I know it’s useless, actually detrimental, to keep our relationship going. But don’t worry about me. I’m trying to let the Lord handle the whole situation, even whatever is happening in my mind about (him)…. and also about you. I know I have been trying your patience, and I apologize. P.S. What does “vixen” mean?

Oct. 25, 1968 – “Vixen” means she-fox, beautiful and sly. When you write that you’re upset about (the guy’s) soul, I only can tell you to resolve it with your faith, which I think is stronger than love of any man. And let common sense tell you that snap decisions lead to unhappiness. If you don’t want to quit dating (him), at least date someone else, too.

Oct. 31, 1968 – Nate, thank you so much for your last letter. I have read it over and over, and its encouraging nature was a terrific aid to me. (The other guy) and I are totally finished as of one week ago. The initial grief was shattering. In idle moments I still find my mind wandering to, “Oh, if only…” When the heaviness of the heartache eventually lets up, I hope I will consider myself better off for having gone through it. I’m relieved that the break has been made. (He) opposed it, which made it worse for me, but thank goodness the Lord was backing me up… and people like you.

“Love does not dishonor others.” (1 Corinthians 13:5)