I suppose that when almost any young man is eighteen, and a product of a closely-knit family, it is virtually unavoidable that he will be thinking seriously about who his wife will be and where and how they will find each other. I was in the Navy in December, 1944, attending a service school in preparation for sea duty. The three most frequent topics of conversation among my shipmates were girls, girls, and girls. I mostly listened, because I was shy, considered myself ugly, and had never had a date. But that did not mean that I didn’t dream about finding a special girl, or listen with longing to those who did have their own sweethearts.

I don’t specifically remember praying about it; perhaps because I thought such a prayer would be presumptuous. I think that I believed that it would be better just to wait and see what developed. Perhaps the best prayer in such circumstances is just the heart longing. God certainly knows and hears that.

Shortly after I was assigned to the Ford barracks in Dearborn, I located the Free Methodist Church in the phone book, and arranged to attend an evening service. I don’t remember the hymns or the sermon, but I do remember that there were three girls sitting in a row near the front. I had been brought up to believe that Christian women did not cut their hair, and two of the three women had short hair, but I thought that the other might be a good Christian.

After church, however, one of the girls with short curly hair come back to welcome me. I was so impressed that I thought she must be an angel. Another family invited me to spend Christmas with them and there I learned that one of the other girls was married and Lil, the one who had spoken to me, was engaged. However, Lil had a sister who was just sixteen. She was the one who had been sitting with the other two in the front of the church.

It wasn’t long until I was spending every weekend at the church, or with one or another of the extended Wensley family. And whenever possible, I spent that time with that sixteen year old, Lucile. I think that I knew intuitively that there was much more to Christianity than the length of one’s hair.

We were both shy people who needed some encouragement to approach each other, but we quickly found out that we were very much drawn to one another. I remember one afternoon especially. We had gone tobogganing, and Lucile and I did our best to be sure that we went down the run together. That is the time that I really began to see her. She had soft brown curls, a gentle smile, and a perky nose that gave her a look of fun. (She, of course, thinks that her nose is not very cute.) During these short weeks, I began to wonder what it would be like to hold her in my arms, but I was much too shy to take that initiative. However, one cold night we were riding home from church in the back of a cramped little coupe and I thought that I might have an opportunity to at least put my arm around her. So I said, “Are you cold?” She answered “No, just my feet.” So much for that approach.

Service school was quickly finished, and I was sent to join an LST crew in tidewater Virginia. We promised to write and began to do so immediately. The first letters were polite and probably a little stiff, but we gradually began to introduce terms of affection and soon, terms of endearment. I would try out such an expression and then wait with trepidation to see if she was offended, but each time she responded in kind. In a few short months we were telling each other that we were in love. Finally, I had one last leave before going to sea. As many servicemen did, I wanted to put some permanence in our relationship. So I proposed, not for immediate marriage, but for a long term commitment with marriage planned after the war was over. She accepted, and I neglected my mother for most of that leave to spend the time with my sweetheart.

The remaining months were hard and especially lonely, because we had both tasted the warmth of being totally committed to one another. After my discharge, I went straight back to see her, and spent a couple of weeks at her parents’ home. Finally I had to leave and go to my own home to be with my own parents for a while. Also, there was the matter of college to be finished. We didn’t plan to marry at first until college was out of the way, but a few weeks into the semester we decided not to wait any longer.

Because I was a veteran, we qualified for veterans’ housing and a GI Bill allowance for living expenses. Nothing was ready on time, of course, and we spent the first couple of months in the guest room of the girls’ dorm. That we do not recommend as a honeymoon cottage.

After such a start, our marriage developed steadily, and now, 44 years later at the time of this writing, that initial commitment still stands, as strong as ever. We share many very special intimate memories that cannot be written, because they are ours alone. Of course there have been times of disagreement and hurt between us, but we have always put them aside and rejoiced in each other. The meaning of the Scripture, “A man shall leave his father and mother and cleave to his wife.” has been solidly illustrated with us.

Paul B. Campbell
1990