Recently, when figuring out how to keep a Velcro-brace on a sprained ankle dry in the shower, it occurred to me that years ago I had an apparatus that did just that. It would be on the shelf in my closet if I still had it. As I rummaged through the stored stuff, I not only found the water shield, but in repositioning a sturdy men’s tennis shoebox labeled ‘old photos’, I said to myself, wonder what old photos? Because I know what special treasure is housed in that box—love notes from Jim—which had been carefully moved thousands of miles from Moody Bible Institute in Chicago to several cities in Texas for Jim’s graduate schools and finally to York in 1967—to now--69 years ago.
During Jim’s and my last semester at Moody, even though we were engaged, 1950’s Moody rules restricted couple’s-time to two hours in the evening in the ladies’ lounge and on permission slips from the dean’s office for other times. Male students ate breakfast on one side of the cafeteria and female students on the other side and we were not permitted to be together after breakfast.
Every morning on the way to breakfast, Jim would put a one or two sentence note—written on pale yellow note paper folded lengthwise in my school mail box. I’d check my mailbox after breakfast for his note and read it before my first class. Notes were our emotional lifelines.
In all these 69 years, I had never opened my most prized possession, saving that treat for a future re-read. However, I was curious about the photos, but hmmm…while the lid is off and while nursing an injured ankle, it would be a perfect time to check out the notes. Just opening a note and seeing Jim’s handwriting once again was exciting. Then, as I read: Dearest Ruthie, I just had to write you a note to tell you again, I love you, tears filled my eyes. Even though Jim passed away four years ago, I am still very tender and heartsick for him.
Another one: Darling, I’ll see you in a few minutes to walk with you to class. My heart took a leap, now as it did then. Jim never addressed me as Darling, so seeing it written so many years later is very special and an excellent memory-reclaimer. A good reminder of how romantic Jim was.
Good morning, Darling, another read, four months and 1 day ago was when you said “I will”. I knew what month he proposed but not a particular day. I hadn’t realized he was so sentimental
A fourth one: Good morning, Ruthie. I love you, and never tire of telling you. Here are some good verses—Heb. 12:28-29. All my love, Tex. (His Moody buddies named him Tex. That’s how he introduced himself to me, “I’m Tex”.) But the verses he regularly included depict the deepening of his spiritual understanding and growth as he studied Greek, Hebrew, systematic theology, and other bible classes preparing him for the ministry. What a discovery! I’ve hit the jackpot! I said aloud.
Research: There are many words in the English language that are used every day where the origins are a complete mystery. Most of the time people never stop to wonder where a word came from and just accept its use. “Jackpot” is one of those words.
Jackpot refers to the jack cards in the standard playing card deck. In many 19th century poker games, more money was added to the pot (of winnable money) when no player had a jack or better. So 'jackpot' came to mean a pot that was enlarged in anticipation of someone being dealt a jack or better.
The use of jackpot originates back to the early 1800’s in the United States and to the game of cards. Before the player with the buck would deal the cards, everyone would add an equal amount to the pot then upon receiving their hands no player could open the betting until he had two jacks or better.
If no one had such a hand then the round would begin again with more money being added to the pot before the cards are dealt. Because the pool of money couldn’t be accessed until someone in the group started with two jacks, the collected money in the pot became known as the “jack pot”.
These earlier definitions persisted until the 20th century when the term ‘jackpot’ turned into a symbol for winning big, especially if the win is unexpected. Today, the word ‘jackpot’ is loaded with enthusiasm, triumph, and promise. If you get your dream job or marry a fantastic person, then you have ‘hit the jackpot’. In a Bolde magazine article, readers are advised that they have hit the jackpot if they are dating a romantic guy.
Last month’s blog described Jim’s and my trip to Colorado Springs to a convention we barely attended choosing to tour Colorado Springs. I hoped for a proposal at one of the beautiful sites, but he chose to propose as we sat on the windy and sandy back step of his home in Odessa, Texas.
But, to my surprise, the day before we left to return to Moody, he took me to a jewelry store where earlier in the summer, he had chosen and made a down payment on wedding rings. He told me later that he had planned to propose on the anniversary of our first date which would have been November—four months later, but he couldn’t wait.
About ten years into our 65 years of marriage—with four children, substitute teaching and a growing church, I nonchalantly mentioned to Jim that I hadn’t heard any “I love you’s for a while.” Without missing a beat, Jim jovially suggested, “Well, when you want to hear that, just go read my notes in the box”, which was not only amusing but revealed how keenly aware he was of the shoebox’s contents. He drew me into his arms, kissed me and said “I Love you.” However, after that little conversation, I began to hear “I love you” at every turn of the day, until I finally said “Jim, I don’t need to hear it that often.”
A whetted appetite and a sprained-ankle-restrictions presented perfect setting and time for delving into the tennis shoebox for a serious re-read. I’ve remarked that Jim was not a letter writer, but after looking through the box, I see how wrong I was. I was pleasantly surprised that there were full-blown two or three paged letters that he mailed to me when I was on a ten-day tour with the Moody Chorale the last semester before we graduated. He made sure that I would get a letter at each stop of the way. He went into more detail about his spiritual growth in those letters.
Another surprise in the tennis shoebox was a letter from Eileen—my sister-in-law, who several years ago lost her sight in a matter of four days. She’s amazing in how well she manages the radical adjustments. She wrote the letter in 1954 when her last name was still Overly, employed by Dr. Artman. She signed it, Your Future Sister-in-law. She was delighted when I read the letter to her. We chatted about the upcoming Jackpot blog and she said “You could title it Bingo!” We had a good laugh.
My experience with notes and letters written decades ago exemplifies just one of the marvelous triggers for memories that satisfy our deep emotional needs. As you continue reclaiming memories, send an email to me about what triggered your discoveries.
Knowing that forgetfulness is not merely age-related but mostly due to lack of rehearsal or retrieval is such an encouragement in comparing memories with relatives and friends--stories which provide security, joy and balance.
The Apostle Paul’s wrote: I pray that out of his glorious riches he may strengthen you with power through his Spirit in your inner being so that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith. And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know that this love that surpasses knowledge is—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God. Eph. 3:16-17 (NIV)
May the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace as you trust in him, so that you may overflow with hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Rom. 15:13. NIV