"...the way of a man with a maiden.": A love story

By Charlene Eagles Richmond

A compilation of love letters, journal and diary entries, as well as present day comments that combine to tell a love story and provide insight into character development, compromise and commitment in forming two people into one as God designed. The couple is the author and her husband. The letters written 44 years ago when they were in their early twenties.
We are introduced to this couple when they were single and not really on each others radar. We are able to glean info about their thoughts of marriage, partner choice, life goals, faith and many faucets of their personalities because of the extensive writing that they both engaged in. Their courtship, engagement and wedding plans ...the time which was mostly lived apart in two different countries covered only seven months but is rich with entertainment, wisdom encouragement ...tears and laughter.
The book entertains through the letters which include descriptions of life on their dairy farms in Canada and Upstate New York. The letters also show the birth and the growth of their love up until their wedding. The author has summarized her thoughts on the marriage night...without details, but with a desire to promote her convictions that sex is something to save for marriage. This is a recurring theme in the book due to the intensity of their emotions on the few occasions they were able to be in person during these seven months of their love story.
One of the main themes of the book is their deep religious faith and their beliefs based on the legalistic church they both belonged to. Through commentary that the author provides throughout the book, these beliefs are explained and commented on to compare their early belief system then, with that which they hold today...44 years later. she also, sometimes even sarcastically compares their dreams and intentions to what actually transpired throughout their 44 years together.

This book is an authentic picture of these two people. Care has been taken to keep the sentence structure, and the meaning of their written words intact at the risk of revealing writing flaws and immature thinking for both of them. I, the author, originally intended this compilation as a gift of legacy to my offspring. It became clear to me during the writing of the narrative, that others might benefit from some insight we have gained in making a marriage work through the difficulties of life. Several topics are discussed through the narratives including money issues, mutual respect, communication, unrealistic expectations, sex before marriage and many others. For easy reference, these topics are included under table of contents according to chapter placement.
Diary entries round out the events happening in their lives and to a small degree in the world. Some letters contain imaginative stories, some poetry.
Early personalities are revealed...good and disappointing and the ensuing struggles to blend two people into one are revealed in a way that is not usually seem. Because this couple lived in two different countries and did most of their dating through letters, we can now look back and watch that blending. We can learn from it.
The narrations are not shy about pointing out difficulties that arose throughout the 44 years since those letters were written. Those narratives are used by the author to emphasize life lessons the couple have learned through the tragedies and joys of their life experiences and are intended to be used as tools for other couples struggling with marriage issue.
Both he and she were deeply religious people and felt free to express their honest opinions on many matters to each other. This makes for intense character study.
He was and is a story teller and there are amusing fanciful stories in some letters. There is moving poetry from both pens. These have not been reworked for improved style. Diary entries are not often corrected for sentence structure in order to maintain authenticity.
Quotes are referenced.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Apr 7, 2021
• ISBN: 9781098362799

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All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Print ISBN 978-1-09836-278-2

eBook ISBN 978-1-09836-279-9

Acknowledgements

Wayne,

The blending of you and me into ‘We’ started with you; thank you my friend. ‘We’ remain; thank you my love. Thank you for giving me permission to share the first chapter of our lives with our offspring. I needed to be heard loving you and thanking you; because I do.

Charl

Pam, my friend of 46 years; I don’t see how this need to be heard could have happened without your hard work and soft heart in editing and critiquing. Years ago you walked selflessly through the living of the days portrayed here. This year, through the self-sacrificing work of editing and hearing me… you have lived through those days again, exhibiting true friendship.

Janie, I thank you for encouraging me to fight the fear of success. I have succeeded in finishing this in great part because you believed I could. You believed I would.

Table of Contents

Forward

Preface

1. Love Springs

2. The First Season of Alone

3. Blinders Off

4. Finding Summer Snowballs

5. Semantics & Frivolity

6. Dreams & Schemes

7. Our Last Goodbyes

8. As Close As We Can Get

Forward

Yes, I readily admit that I am THE Wayne who wrote these letters you are about to read. When my lovely wife of 44 years came to me with the thought of sharing our love letters, I was hesitant. In fact, I was actually against the idea. However, I gave the green light, and the project was off to the races.

I hadn’t read these letters since 1976. I basically had no idea what she had unearthed, and went on with my day to day routine, while she toiled away on the project.

Now that I have read them after the fact, in manuscript form, I still have reservations. I expressed them to Charlene, but also encouraged her to continue with them as they were written so many years ago.

Were you ever 22 years old and head over heels in love? I was deeply spiritual and thrilled beyond measure to find a woman who loved me, as much as I loved her. Going back and reading the resultant love letters leaves me embarrassed and shaking my head. Who was that kid?

I was obviously naive, and had so much to learn in life. I’m 66 now and not nearly like my 22 year old self.

But…I own it and accept it. That was who I was, and so, as you read this book, understand that I have given the author permission to reveal me; the nonsense, the bad poems, the corny humor…yes, me, me, me. It was who I was, warts and all, and you’re welcome to him.

At one time the book had a working title of: ‘Who We Were.’

These letters accurately depict who I was… who we were.

Laugh at us, cry with us…walk with us.

Charlene has written an emotional, incredible book, and it was all her.

My contributions ended 44 years ago, but, she portrayed it all as it really happened.

Wayne Richmond

Preface

Have you ever wished you could go back to that day when you first fell in love and remember who that person was? The treasure I found in the 43rd year of our marriage allowed me to do just that. The journal, written for my lover as a gift for our wedding, transported me on a time warp to a time when love was new and simple.

The people I found in that journal piqued my interest and I searched for the letters we had hopefully saved from those ‘dating days’ when we lived so far apart. I was so excited when I found them …safe in Wayne’s old wooden box. I took over the dining room table with stacks of open letters and half full coffee cups as I devoured the words from those pages. Soon there was a trash can of tissues soaked by tears of joy, sadness and wonder. I had no idea that those letters would transform my life. Over the next eight months they would pull from my heart memories that confused, angered, and depressed me. They also generated stabilizing transformation as I plugged into the past. After struggling through the emotions that these memories unearthed, a prayer for direction lived on my tongue and a picture slowly emerged, and finally a Word to my heart became too real to ignore.

The wise writer of the Proverbs states There be three things which are too wonderful for me, yea, four which I know not: The way of an eagle in the air; the way of a serpent upon a rock; the way of a ship in the midst of the sea; and the way of a man with a maiden.¹

The way of a man with a maiden is depicted through the words we spoke, whispered, shouted and cried over the 900 miles that separated us. Here was a perfect example of what I believe the wonderful ‘way of a man with a maiden’ was all about. The moves… physically, mentally, and emotionally that one must go through to win the heart of another, to nourish that relationship and prepare it for Marriage…to each other, but also to Christ as His bride.

I have been so altered by this journey through the letter box that I am compelled to share that glimpse into who we were with you. I wish for you similar memories of that first love…memories that will cause you to search for your own beginnings. I wish for you insight into who you both were and how you have changed and for wisdom to discern what you need to tweak. I even wish for you tears; sorrow for what has died, but only enough sorrow that you will be motivated to resurrect.

Most of all…I wish you to see the way Christ has intervened in your life to woo you and to present you as part of His Bride.

In editing I tried to be authentic, tried to leave our expressions and personalities alone…even when they irritated me. To that end I have rarely changed the structure of a sentence in order to present a better literary product…leaving our personalities and quirks intact. In the case of intimate issues I have omitted some of those ‘sweet nothings’--I think they were excessive--to everyone except us. This edition is missing many of our letters and parts of letters. My ‘hindsight comments’ are interspersed.

As I sit down to share my journey through the journal and the letter box with you today, I am experiencing emotions that I had almost forgotten. I am getting the impression that someone has kindled a flame in an old fireplace in an old room. I am envisioning myself as an oldish woman, sitting there in the stale darkness alone…as so many of my days are now. Year by year the hearth has grown cooler and the room darker. I have not cleaned or dusted in a while; the heavy drapes are pulled across the shuttered windows in order to hide the telltale cob-webs. There is lethargy all around me. The room is called Pitiful Age. But today, the words on the pages of this recently discovered journal have kindled some ember in my heart and the glow is steadily growing into a warming blaze. The reflections of the flames are flickering around the room revealing shelves and shelves of treasured old books. I feel the curiosity of youth entering my being as light enters Old Room. I determine to get up and explore. Pulling back the heavy drapes from the windows reveals forgotten titles on the books; titles I cannot wait to once again explore. Each title includes our names. Some are comedies, some are tragedies. Some are love stories, some are not.

Yes, this journal, as small as it is, and encompassing only six months of our lives, has illuminated for me the library of our days together on earth. Here in my hands I hold our love story that explains why I left my homeland, why I left my family and friends and all things familiar, and why I married this man. I think when he reads it again… it will do the same for him. I am catching a glimpse of the possibility of renewal in our marriage relationship. I am sensing hope and I’m beginning to embrace the fading of frustrations, resentments and regrets that most marriages encounter. Will these memories rekindle the best in our relationship? Already I sense that possibility. I want to move from old age to maturity; the difference between those two states is attitude.

I know that famous people write memoirs; I am not famous. People who accomplish great things write autobiographies; I have done no great thing. Or have I? Have we? We survived didn’t we? We loved. At some point we temporarily lost love and gave up on each other. We lived apart for almost a year then we rekindled our commitment, and loved again. We suffered, and died deaths of heartache. We laughed and danced and lived fully and occasionally we cried. We are living life together still; contentedly (most days). Yes that is a great thing. Why did we do that? I think because we knew our being together was a gift from God and we had faith that we should see it through. Besides, we are both very stubborn and competitive! ‘If you won’t give up…neither will I’ has been our motto I think.

I have a story that illustrates that competitive nature. One day about six years ago we were working together landscaping around our home. Morning turned to afternoon, sweat turned to second skin. Afternoon became evening and finally I fell on the grass in the evening shade and cried from exhaustion. About one minute later he flopped down beside me in a similar state of prostration and said…

I thought you would never stop!

Yes…we do not like to give up on something we started; especially when the good so totally outweighs the bad. I think we have been competitors from the beginning without knowing it. Maybe that is why we are still together. I’m thankful.

I feel it is important to share this bit of history; not because it is unique or unusual in the great scheme of things; but because I have recently become acutely aware that the words of our ancestors whispered on pages from the past have a powerful impact on our present. Last month I found the following entry in an old journal of my Grandmother Cook’s.

Her writing showed her frailty; she was in her 80’s, and each individual letter was shaky with age, written with difficulty. I have typed the poem excerpt below as the author Thomas Moore wrote it.

Believe me, if all those endearing young charms

Which I gaze on so fondly to-day,

Were to change by to-morrow, and fleet in my arms,

Like fairy-gifts fading away,—

Thou wouldst still be ador’d as this moment thou art,

Let thy loveliness fade as it will;

And, around the dear ruin each wish of my heart

Would entwine itself verdantly still!...."²

"One of Udo’s songs to me his wife, Myrtle.

Just to remember my dear Udo."

M.M.C

From her journal entry I see my grandparents in a new light. My Grandfather, who hardly spoke a word around us, apparently would, in their alone times, recite at least parts of this poem to Grammy. It meant something special to her, and here in her journal, I see her whispering those sentiments back to him even after his death. It is very touching. As their granddaughter, I treasure this root…It is grounding; awakening in me an awareness of the power of love.

Looking into the lives of our ancestors will help us find our place on the wheel of life. That discovery is like oil on the gears of our own family life. When we contemplate and connect with what makes us who we are, we are able to live with more power and steadfastness. When we glimpse love’s legacy in our history, we become more confident in braving the storms of our present; leaning on our own love. There is directional confidence in knowing we are the prodigy of the power of love; the commitment of two people who have chosen to keep on keeping on even when Love hides.

Writing the little journal to Wayne in 1976 was an expression of my love for him then. My affection for him has deepened through the years; deepened and expanded through the stubbornness of hanging on through tears and disappointments, through sadness and great joy, through fun and happiness. I am wiser now than on the days I wrote this journal, but I am glad I didn’t know then the ups and downs that awaited us. If I had known how sad sadness can be, how disappointing disappointments can be, and how painful heartache really is; I may have been too timid to try marriage.

Yes,

"The joys are still outweighing any sadness in my life

And I am still so thankful that we’ve lived it…

Man and wife."³

---

1 Proverbs 30:18,19

2 Mr. Thomas Moore

3 C Eagles Richmond If You Had Not Been With Me.

Chapter One

Love Springs

I will start this journal to you beginning with my memories from the end of May 1976. I was experiencing some familiar feelings of the spring season that follow a long Canadian winter. There were feelings of freedom following captivity, feelings of happiness and of sadness; of new experiences opening up and old doors closing. It was to be a Spring I shall never forget.

My first interjection:

Spring has always been reminiscent of a sight I saw as a very young girl on the way to school. I walked almost a mile to school for the first 6 years of my education. We walked the dirt gravel road in all weather. One spring day as I slowly made my way to the school house about a mile down the road, I noticed my footprints in the muddy gravel. I remember standing still looking at the ground, and there between my rubber boots, instead of muddy water, flowed a dancing trickle of clear beautiful water. On either side of this tiny ditch where my two feet were planted, the boot imprints filled with muddy water. Intrigued, I looked ahead a few feet and saw that all the water ran clean and sparkling from the little rivulet…yet where I stood the water was muddy and brown.

Where the water flowed and danced without my interference, pretty rocks and clear sparkling water were revealed. That is my picture of Spring. Perhaps it is an analogy for life.

Back to my journal. At the time I received your first letter, Wayne, I was living in Nova Scotia with the Donald Jones’s as their house guest and working at the School for the Deaf in Amherst. I was happy and contented there for the most part, but I had this issue with being single. One day, in response to her questions about my goals and dreams for life, I vocalized my expectations to Grandma Frances. I told her I wanted to be a farmer’s wife and that I envisioned myself one day hanging clothes out on the clothesline to dry in a country breeze; the clothes of my husband and little children. In my imagination I saw man jeans and tiny boy jeans side by side. I think she was surprised that my dreams were so small. Oh yes, I also stipulated that my husband had to be a Christian and from my church. No one I knew in Canada fit that description. I was alone in the Maritimes after three years living at Bible School in New Hampshire surrounded by my peers. It was a sharp contrast. I was realizing how lonely I was.

Wayne, several weeks before you wrote me the first letter, I went to the city for a change of scenery. To be honest and to clarify, I had gone there to hopefully meet with a guy I had a serious crush on to see if I could get a sense of direction about any involvement with him. He was definitely not a country boy and I had been told in a roundabout way by some friends that life with him or one of his brothers would kill me because I was a free spirit and that would not be recognized as a valid asset by any of those boys. So, deciding to be the brave one and end the uncertainty I was feeling, I headed down to the city just to check it out. Check him out, that is. I was tired of waiting for him to show any interest in me if there was any. He did kindly show me some of the points of interest around the area, but there was no connection between us ----at all! I was kind of sad about that. I was very sad actually. I was hurting because I had feelings for him. Perhaps I just needed someone to be close to. Alone in my room I got on my knees and cried my heart out to God. I talked to Him about my dreams of having a loving husband and the security of a man I love…and I really laid my dreams and desires at His feet. As I prayed I felt some of the urgency and desires go. Yet I was still sad because I felt I needed someone with skin on and I was lonely and uncertain. I think these emotions, though crudely explained here, are common to most single adults at some point in their lives. Through my tears I felt God made it very real to me that The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.⁴ That sense of Gods intervention was so real that my spirit suddenly rested and I felt a new peace and assurance. That confidence stayed with me; The Lord is my Shepherd, I shall not want, and I felt that He was telling me I would find loneliness minimized by my relationship with Him. I found security in knowing He would be all I needed and I shall not want.

Soon however, life being what it is and human nature ever present I felt ‘want’ and loneliness again. I continued to go for bike rides out to the country to see the Moore’s. I went to work each day and loved being a part of the lives of those little deaf kids. I felt at home with the Jones’s and I was learning skills I had not learned on the farm. I visited with Lady Baker, I took a typing class with Pam and she was my constant friend. I went home on some weekends to Mom and Dad’s. But, the man I thought I loved was, as far as I could see, not interested in me. Jesus seemed to be saying ‘No’ to that companionship. I could see, just as I had been warned, that our personalities and interests were so different that life with him would be a tight field of adjusting. I struggled with wanting to have Jesus first place in my life. So many times I would come home from work and cry because I was so alone. Little by little I gave up marriage hopes and yielded in the best way I knew to a possible life of singleness.

Wayne, I just happened to be home at the farm on Scott Road on the weekend your first letter arrived, but unbeknownst to me, the mail sat unnoticed in the mailbox until late that Sunday evening after church. The sermon that night had been about loving God’s will even if it means going to another country to live; Sentimentality should not to hinder us from answering God’s call. That was the gist of the preacher’s sermon that night.

I picked up your letter on the way home from that church meeting.

I am going to interrupt here and interject some background information. We were in a church that encouraged ‘courting’ as practiced by initial letter writing between a guy and gal. Based on those letters, free from the obvious attractions that physical togetherness sparks, both parties might more easily ascertain if they felt interested in pursuing a relationship. This interest in and communication with each other was kept a secret generally until an engagement of marriage was announced by the pastor. The secrecy was intended to respect the privacy of each individual and to reduce public humiliation and disappointment if the relationship didn’t work out. So Wayne and I began writing.

I have decided to enclose his diary entries along with this Memoir. They are a running commentary that will help you to visualize his life during these months. When I asked him for permission to do that he was unsure how they would be a benefit to the project. He thought everyone would get tired of hearing about the weather every day and how much wood he chopped. I explained that I thought you all would appreciate getting to know him, the farm life, the amount of work involved, and his interests. He agreed to contribute his diary. Many times throughout this project those entries have enabled me to see him and our life from a different viewpoint.

So without further ado we take a peek into Wayne’s diary as well as his first letter to me.

May 19th Wednesday I woke up to snow. It continued to snow and blow all day long. Good snowball snow…killed a pigeon at other barn. Put the heifers in. Took a pipe from old milk house for the closet project and worked on that for a while. Vet here for Becky’s foot. Put a cast on her. Finally wrote to Charlene E.

Maybe you’ve already looked at the signature at the bottom of this letter, but if you haven’t you better look; if you want to understand everything else on this page.

Well, Charlene, this is about the sixth night I’ve tried to write you a letter…and I think this time I’m actually going to write it.

I might as well come right to the point (or else put it off for another night.) Are you interested in writing with me? I’ve noticed you for quite a while and for the past few months have thought a lot about you. I’ve been praying about you, for you, and especially for God’s will, and through several nudges and experiences I’ve felt like God has told me that I should go ahead and write to you. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m way off track. I hardly know anything about you, and for all I know you may be engaged to someone else or presently writing to someone. If that’s the case, then let me know and forget about this letter and me.

But, if you’re interested…and I know this must be a shock to you…and would like to explore God’s will with me through letters, then we’ll write. Of course, I’ve been thinking about this for months (and every night for a week!) and you’re surprised and shocked and maybe even flabbergasted…but I wish you’d give it some thought and a lot of prayer and let me know what you decide.

Of course, there would be no commitment either way. You don’t know me and I don’t know anything about you and maybe we’d find after a few letters we weren’t interested…but I know I’d like to know you better.

Well, what more can be said? I leave it up to you.

And so I end,

Wayne Richmond

PS In writing to me don’t put your name or address on the envelope. Even though I am living at home-I’d still like to keep this quiet.

My journal continues. Wayne, I loved your letter more each time I read it. I could see your humor and your wit but also thought I saw a man who didn’t have much confidence in himself. My heart went out to you. I began thinking and remembering things about you from class and sometimes I’d get excited and sometimes I’d get worried. Little did you know that when we were in class the year or two previous; I had a tremendous crush on you. In fact I know I was in love with you. I think it started when you were editor of the ‘Monadnock Beacon’ and you were often in the office that was near the entrance to our girl’s hall. I often saw you in there looking all studious, intriguing, and mysterious. Your sister Bevi was one of my roommates and she would tell me stories of the farm and her family. I could see she came from a loving supportive family. I saw pictures of your farm and family on her wall. I was intrigued that you and I had lived similar lives. I loved farm life, and being a farm girl myself I was drawn to her stories and I was drawn to the faces on the wall. I began to identify with your family. I read your writings and hey, you could write. I heard your humor; I liked that. I saw your commitment to work and to God and I really liked that. I saw your tanned tall physique and I liked that. I fell in love with you but I never told a soul. It was not the time.

One day a new girl to the church and school, a girl I didn’t know well, came to me and asked if she could talk to me. Her story began to make me weak in the knees and I stopped her and asked her to talk to someone else- like one of the women who were our dorm Mom’s. She said she couldn’t, so I gritted my teeth and prayed for wisdom and control until she was finished. Then we prayed together and I walked away with stifled tears and breaking heart to find a place to cry. This was her story: you apparently had been hanging out with her before you came to Bible School and she had followed you here because she loved you. She couldn’t believe you were not dating her now. She was distressed because she didn’t think she could live without you. She didn’t know what to do.

Well, that was hard for me and I truly believed I had to stop loving you so I tried to think of bad things about you. I practiced being annoyed instead of enamored by your humor. I stopped reading your writings and would not look at you because I believed from her words that you belonged to her. It took several months but I succeeded in burying my interest in you.

I interject again:

I have snickered about this pretending to be annoyed at his humor…and finding fault with everything he did. It was my weird way of coping. But there is a bit of irony in that, because you all know just how irritating his humor was to me if I was upset with him! I think I may have practiced a bit too diligently!

Jump ahead two years to me in New Brunswick; Bible school days behind me, your letter in my hand, and my heart on the edge of a whirlwind. I have to say, there was something going on in my heart when I read your letter. I knew quite a bit about you actually, but since I had recently been disappointed in my love pursuit, I wasn’t sure I wanted anyone. I tried to write back to you and tell you No. I tried three or four times but I wasn’t able to pen a negative response. Then I thought that I wouldn’t answer at all but that thought quickly passed as I realized how hard it must have been for you to write in the first place.

Finally I finished writing the letter back to you a week later. It read…

I really don’t know where to start or end. I guess I will just try to be honest and be myself.

If I don’t sound coherent it is because it is 10 minutes before midnight at the end of a spring weekend and I feel like my glass slippers are starting to dissolve.

To quote you, I might as well come right to the point (or put it off for another night.) No, I am not engaged, nor am I presently writing to someone. (Much to the concern of my brothers!)

I also don’t like the term ‘interested in’ but I suppose we must put up with it until the church coins a new phrase.

By the way, I am looking at your letter and trying to answer in the order you have written, so if I am incoherent…it’s half your fault.

I continue…Yes, this is a shock to me but in all seriousness Wayne, I think (or feel) that it would be right for us to explore God’s will this way.

I have given it a lot of thought and prayer. It is hard isn’t it, to know what to think or pray? But the Dear Holy Spirit is ours, and my life is God’s. I, like everyone else, have plans and dreams, but they are only a draft copy. I believe He will let us see the real manuscript in His time and I am willing to have Him correct and alter, or even throw away my draft.

To quote you again…well, what more can be said? I leave it up to you. And so I end.

Charlene

I was afraid to send my reply so I waited a day or so and soon a change took place in me and I finally sent the letter with a sincere hope that you had not given up in the meantime. You hadn’t, as I was soon to discover when your second letter came. That letter is nearly worn out from my reading it so many times. Again, it was funny, even if you didn’t intend for it to be. Again, there was the open Godly honesty that I