Kristina Lunde, Author at Kristina Lunde

March 29, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Reflections From My Empty Nest: A Mother’s Family Dinner Fantasy

Electronic devices set aside, distractions minimized, and schedules cleared for our family dinner together, our family gathers around the dining room table and eagerly anticipates the customary evening ritual. Savory dishes waft their fragrance as we bow our heads, fold hands, and thank our Creator who once again blessed us with more than we need. Thanks given, we open our eyes to enjoy the feast spread before us. Love poured into serving dishes, we ladle out homemade goodness and spoon tasty nourishment onto our plates as we rehash the day, validate each other’s experiences, and share our dreams. (Did I mention that the meal was nutritionally and visually balanced, a stunning display of culinary acumen and nutritional wealth?)

No, that never happened. That was just my family dinner fantasy: to nurture souls and stomachs as we enjoyed the evening meal. In reality, our dinnertime looked more scattered and much less portrait-worthy. We always squeezed in the pre-meal thank you to God, but the rest often became a free-for-all. Kids fought, electronics were confiscated, and distractions reigned. Two table-height dogs stuck their snouts toward weak-willed family members, eliciting regular chiding from me to ignore the begging retrievers. Complaints abounded. Whining ensued. Conversation stopped. No one wanted to share what happened in school. Apparently, our kids spent all day in abject boredom and irritation within the school walls. (Those poor teachers, dealing with teenagers all day!)

Why did I nurture this fantasy that the four of us would enjoy a nice dinner together?! I set myself up for disappointment every time. I felt more like a table referee or an interrogation lawyer than a mom relaxing with her dear ones. My husband often smiled a look of commiseration, as if to say, “Here we are at the dinner table – is this is what you wanted?!”

Now, in the reflection of my empty-nest, rear-view mirror, my memories have softened around the edges. I miss the smiles and energy of teenagers around the table. My recall of the piercing whines and exclamatory disgusts has faded, as I remember my love for those teenagers. Previously, I told my husband that dinnertime was an eighteen-year training program and we would not be the beneficiaries. Not so sure how that is working out now, though. A recent phone call to my college student revealed that he was standing up and eating chips and salsa for dinner. My young adult daughter likes to cook, but often stands in the kitchen for meals instead of eating with roommates.

Is the connection-time of eating together merely a mother’s fantasy? Has family mealtime become a disappearing cultural norm as parents prep a rushed meal before everyone leaves for evening activities? How do we relate to a generation that considers face time an electronic concept provided by cell phones, rather than real people who interact together in a group setting? Will they develop the interpersonal skills—communication, empathy, teamwork, and listening—those challenging aspects of working with people? How better to develop those “soft skills,” than with family members, those people you are forced to get along with on a regular basis? These are my big-picture questions.

Meanwhile, I had to let go of that perfect dinner fantasy long ago. My job is to love God first, and then to love and nurture my kids to the best of my God-given ability.

Children are a heritage from the Lord, offspring a reward from him. Psalm 127:3

Lord God, thank you for the gift and blessing that you have given me in my children. Lord, your legacy is what I pray for in their lives. Nurture in them the desire to follow you above all. Help me to savor any and all time I get to spend with family. In Jesus name. Amen.

[Originally posted February 2020]

March 29, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Love and Launch from the Empty Nest

To my youngest child, my dear son,
As you launch from this empty nest, I pray for God’s blessings of provision, protection, growth-producing challenges, and incredible adventures. You planned, worked, and studied continuously to graduate from college; then you moved across the country in search of a job. I am overwhelmed with nostalgia and thankful for the joy you have brought to my life. I especially remember:

How you outsmarted our family at age two. We lost you and searched the entire house: in closets, under furniture, and every possible hiding place, growing more desperate as we called your name to no response. Finally, we found you sitting on the steps just outside the front door, triumphantly declaring, “I outside! I outside!”

Embrace your sense of adventure.

The mustache you drew on your first-grade-self with permanent marker one morning to imitate your father. Daddy said, “Just let him wear it.” I agreed that it would be a good natural consequence. Only that backfired, because you collected compliments on the mustache—all day long.

Nurture your creative self.

Your cardboard construction of an amazingly realistic model of our California house after we moved across the country. That model was an engineering marvel, created to scale in a two-story replica of all rooms. And I remember my distress when that detailed masterpiece fell off the shelf and crashed into pieces.

Don’t let anyone crash your dreams; your memories always go with you.

Your sweet freckled face on our bike ride. My surgery the next day had a high potential of cancer in two organs followed by chemotherapy. I savored your carefree nature as you raced me down the street. You brought me joy and distracted me from my preoccupation with cancer and worries about orphaning my children.

Share your joy with others; you may never know how much they need you.

The pride I felt as I sat in the audience at your high school robotics team presentation. Smooth and confident, you introduced your team and your project. I marveled at your poise and speaking ability.

Keep developing your God-given talents.

Your after-school hugs for the dog. Knowing that you faced some tough days and hurtful bullies in middle school, I made sure Cooper sat on the porch to greet you on your walk home from the bus stop. You thought you were outgrowing mom-hugs, but Cooper always cheered you up.

Never forget that you are loved.

Moving you into the college dorm. Although you were ready to attend college early, I was still adjusting to the idea. You were tired of me fussing over you and so ready to start your new independent life. (Yes, I cried as we drove away.)

I pray for God’s best for you, especially as I miss you.

Your first Christmas home from college. We talked until 1 a.m. and I was so thrilled to see the maturity and perspective you had gained after one freshman semester. I enjoyed your stories of weight-lifting in the gym, throwing pottery onto a wheel, disc-jockeying on your college radio program, and recovering from two failed calculus tests. Ultimately, you pulled your grade up by studying hard, attending every tutoring session, and taking every review class. You even made the dean’s list after that freshman year of calculus! That experience of failure as a motivator became a priceless lesson in perseverance.

Failure may be painful, but it can be a great learning experience.

The coronavirus chaos of 2020. COVID-19 affected everything from degree requirements to your graduation plans when you lost an internship, added some classes, and changed course. But you managed to complete two majors from two colleges within the university system. You flexed and figured it out.

Flexibility is important; what seems like a problem may result in changed plans and a better outcome.

Fly, my dear child, fly as you soar off to adventures unknown. May God protect you as you face this world on your own. May God grow and challenge you in ways that only your Creator can. Never forget that you are loved—so much. I miss you, and I am so proud of you.

All my love,
Mom

P.S. Please call once in a while.

[Originally posted August 2020]

March 29, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

COVID-19 Face Mask Ministry

To wear or not to wear a face mask during the coronavirus pandemic, that is no longer a question. Studies of COVID-19, once believed to be spread only by droplets, now reveal transmission by aerosol and droplets. And that substantiates wearing a facial covering, as recently mandated by our Minnesota Governor Walz.

Even before face mask mandates, many people started sewing masks. I had not quilted in decades or sewn in years, but I pulled out my dusty sewing machine and searched YouTube for mask instructions. Thanks to Jenny the quilt lady and Pretty Handy Girl, I found easy instructions that even a rare sewer like me could follow.

My quarantine project expanded from sewing masks for my husband and me to family members, and then into a ministry for our neighbors and friends. Our neighbors care for their elderly bedridden mother/grandmother on hospice and wanted masks to run errands. My daughter’s coworkers needed masks for their return to the lab (before that state’s second lockdown). My college-age son and his apartment mates had no masks to comply with their city’s mask mandate.

A retired Air Force friend has scarred lungs from the burn pits in Iraq. One friend and her husband live in a meatpacking town that made national headlines for being a coronavirus hotspot. I sent masks overseas to my uncle and cousins caring for my chronically ill aunt and to my professor friend in the Netherlands. When our governor mandated masks for children, I thought of my friends with kids, found small mask patterns, and sewed children’s masks.

With apologies to lyricist Sheldon Harnick, this is my parody of “Matchmaker, Matchmaker” from the 1964 musical Fiddler on the Roof:
Maskmaker, Maskmaker,
Make me a mask,
Cover my face,
Stop COVID catch!
Maskmaker, Maskmaker
Find some fabric,
And make me a perfect mask.

With fabric stores closed and elastic in short supply during quarantine, aspiring maskmakers became creative. I re-purposed table runners, shirts, pillow cases, and dish towels. My husband even gave up one of his dress shirts.

I sewed.

A seamstress I am not, but I worked hard at my new ministry. I fought with my machine. Taped a broken spool-holder in place. Looked through the machine manual and practiced settings on fabric scraps. Ripped open poorly-placed stitches. Broke sewing machine needles. Sewed over stick pins—some I missed, others I bent. Tore up seams after mistakenly sewing nose-pieces into chin darts. Scrounged my supplies for thread. I cut coffee-bag ties for nose-pieces based on one of the expert’s tips.

And I sewed.

A neighbor contributed friendship bracelets to use as mask tie loops. Another neighbor found wide elastic; I cut it into widths that wouldn’t pull the whole ear forward. I scoured the house for mask tie options like shoelaces and took the elastic from all my sweat pants and leggings. When I used up those mask tie options, I cut up strips of t-shirts.

And I sewed. Then I dropped them off to be mailed. And prayed for God’s safety in the midst of coronavirus chaos.

[Originally posted July 2020}

March 29, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Quarantine Quandaries from a First-World Perspective

Pandemic perspectives. Quarantine quandaries. First-world focus. Coronavirus chaos. My first-world problems seem far removed from current real-world issues of risks, illness, and death in the face of COVID-19.

With our grocery-shopping limited to once every two weeks, why do the chips, trail mix, and snacks disappear within days of our trip into town?! (We no longer have teenagers in the house to blame.) Despite our agreement to limit shopping, my husband often thinks of food that he wants to buy. Right now. I revert to lessons I taught my kids on needs versus wants.

As I learn to live with my shaggy hair with exposed gray patches, my husband desperately threatens to take the dog clippers to his hair. Neither of us suffers. No dog clipper wounds or food fights ensue. Our needs for food, water, and shelter are met with abundance. We continue to shelter-in-place under Minnesota’s 5+ weeks of COVID-19 mandates. God teaches me contentment and helps refocus my priorities.

I am not saying this because I am in need, for I have learned to be content whatever the circumstances. I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do all this through him who gives me strength. Philippians 4:11-13

A first-world problem has little significance in comparison to life and death outcomes regularly faced by people in different situations. COVID-19 is not limited to impoverished, non-industrialized nations; this pandemic breaks all worldly barriers. Even in our first-world setting, the novel coronavirus continues its unpredictable rampage across the United States. As Minnesota cases trend upward, the pandemic slowly marches on toward our remote Minnesota county. Our lives under coronavirus quarantine seem like first-world luxury compared to others who directly confront COVID-19 illness and death. We hesitantly admit that we currently live as outsiders to COVID-19’s catastrophic effects, but we gratefully acknowledge God’s protection and provision during this coronavirus chaos.

Now listen, you who say, “Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.” Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, “If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.” James 4:13-15

What about the stress of first responders, who suspect COVID-19 in every household, on every call? How do the medical and ancillary staff on COVID-19 units face the virus at every turn, every patient, and in every decision? What is it like to battle coronavirus as a patient, seeking medical care, leaving loved ones behind, and being alone during emergency treatment or death?

And what about secondary losses not related to illness? The economic fallout of job loss, interrupted income streams, business failure, and inability to pay bills remains to be tallied. The future implications and outcomes of this pandemic seem overwhelming. May God give me perspective and a prayerful heart for others regarding this coronavirus chaos that I do not understand.

We always thank God for all of you and continually mention you in our prayers. We remember before our God and Father your work produced by faith, your labor prompted by love, and your endurance inspired by hope in our Lord Jesus Christ. 1 Thessalonians 1:2-3

So my complaints about lockdown, being stuck in the northern woods of Minnesota, and eating too much seem shallow and inane. May God use this time to draw me—and all of His children—to Him. As wise Sue from my Bible study said, this time of quarantine helps us to recognize what we miss most. She encouraged us to prayerfully confess any idolatry and ask God to show us the basis of our identity.

Search me, God, and know my heart; test me and know my anxious thoughts. See if there is any offensive way in me, and lead me in the way everlasting. Psalm 139:23-24

Lord, please use this time to purify me from my biased, first-world perspective. Please purge anything that keeps me from growing in you. Prepare all of us for what lies ahead, and help us to entrust our future to you. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

[Originally posted April 2020]

March 29, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Coronavirus Chaos, Toilet Paper Shortages and God’s Provision

What do Coronavirus chaos, the COVID-19 pandemic and shortages of toilet paper have in common? They are all opportunities to recognize God’s incredible provision in the midst of an earthly pandemic. Why people hoard toilet paper in a pandemic that affects lungs and not gastrointestinal tracts, I do not understand. I do know the God who provides what I need, and I trust Him to figure out my wants versus my needs.

As I have previously written , my prayers for my young adult daughter have been chastened and adjusted by the sovereign God I serve. As my daughter’s heavenly Father, God can be trusted to guide her better than anyone, even her mother. My job is to obey God, and I am privileged to watch His miracles in her life. She recently received a great job offer, sold her furniture, and downsized possessions in her previous city in preparation for a long-distance move.

“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart.” Jeremiah 29:11-13

After my daughter came home to live with us, she further downsized, expecting yet another big move. We enjoyed unpacking, grouping items together, and downsizing. She labeled, sorted, and taped boxes, while I repacked boxes, stealthily adding encouraging notes. I wrapped fragile items and tucked household goods into boxes. Several boxes had large spaces to fill, but I tried not to mix up the categories. Having used up her few linens and blankets, I considered how to fill the boxes with lightweight packing material.

Plastic bags? I did not have enough for the big spaces. Newspaper? I didn’t want newsprint on her dishes. What about toilet paper and paper towels?! I sheepishly explained my packing and padding methods. “I used toilet paper and paper towels to pad your breakables and fill the boxes. It seems strange, but saves you money because you have to buy that stuff anyway.” In case she ended up living in a furnished room, she would need to send boxes home with us. So all of her essentials were labeled—and packed tightly with paper products. I had no idea that was part of God’s guidance.

And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus. Philippians 4:19

Our family drove 1300+ miles from Minnesota before the coronavirus changed everything. My daughter kept her initial appointment in the human resources department, but they warned that her job orientation might occur online. At that time, although Italy implemented quarantines, the U.S. quarantined only cruise ships off the coast.

During that second week of March 2020, my daughter’s apartment-hunting went well, but then COVID-19 infection rates began rising. Suddenly, people did not want to show their potential rentals. After several long days, my daughter found a one-bedroom apartment. We waited in the leasing office for the apartment cleaning and then unloaded her boxes late in the day. The clean carpets had not dried, so we spent one last night together before she moved into her new place and we drove home. There was no opportunity to buy furniture or supplies; no one was responding to Craigslist ads. She had a mattress, disassembled shelf, lamp, and her boxes in the empty apartment.

When my daughter started her job six days later, that southern metropolis—along with the rest of the country—had been impacted by COVID-19. Social distancing, working from home in non-essential jobs, and restaurant closures were now coronavirus-mandated precautions. The day after she leased her apartment, the 300+ unit complex closed to potential renters. She purchased electronics necessary for working from home; that store closed the next day. God’s timing placed my daughter just one day ahead of all the closures. Although toilet paper could not be found on the empty grocery shelves, she had what she needed to work from home.

Before they call I will answer; while they are still speaking I will hear. Isaiah 65:24

We could not have known or predicted any of this when my daughter first accepted her job. Like many other people, our lives changed irrevocably by the surprise of COVID-19. We remain grateful to a sovereign God who answered prayer, provided my daughter with a job, and met her needs in a timely manner through the coronavirus chaos. We believe that God miraculously provided for my daughter—including those four rolls of toilet paper packed into her boxes.

[Originally posted March 2020.]