Kristina Lunde, Author at Kristina Lunde

February 4, 2019 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

An Ode to the Polar Vortex in Minnesota

The vortex we now have is polar,
Coming from the cap.
The temperatures are deadly;
Climate change takes the rap.

The weather became lethal
Creating wind chills very low.
Temps are in the minus range;
It’s way too cold to snow.

Put on a hat and mittens!
The temps are below zero!
Your Mom’s advice is wise:
Keep skin covered if you go.

Minimize time outdoors—
Or consider staying in.
In a span of minutes,
Frostbite can begin.

A blanket, boots, and shovel
Plus a full gas tank in your car—
Be prepared for this weather
Even when you don’t go far.

Cabin fever is a problem,
This isn’t just a snow day.
Now we’re trapped inside
‘Til warmer weather comes our way.

There is nothing like Minnesota:
Reflections on white snow
Of blue sky and sparkling sun,
Even though it’s 45 below.

January 31, 2019 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Thank You, MOPS Craft Coordinator

I am not a crafter. When I am at an event that includes a craft-project, I get antsy and wonder how long it will take and how long it will take me. Crafts are an exercise in frustration for me. I don’t enjoy putsy work that requires me to do things precisely or creatively, especially if I have the pressure of a time limit. I much prefer to purchase someone else’s item and appreciate the artist’s creativity.

Amber, our MOPS group (Mothers of Preschoolers) craft coordinator, thankfully gave me a different perspective. Amber presented options and helped me see creative possibilities that I would never have considered. The quintessential craft lady, Amber translated the world of art projects into reasonable projects for me, a craft-impaired person.

When our small group was called up to the supply table, I positioned myself at the end of the line so I could hear how to do it. Amber had worked tirelessly to prepare all the supplies ahead of time. She had cut and stained boards, printed mini-posters, and created options for different styles. Although I was a mentor mom, in crafts I was far behind the artistically talented moms at my table. I dreaded the decisions. What did it matter if I choose a rustic dark frame or a painted white one? I didn’t know what I wanted, didn’t think I needed it, and certainly didn’t want to fuss over it.

This was one of our last MOPS meetings in the spring. Amber had prepped everything in amazing detail and printed out instructions. Of course, I needed extra help. I watched the inspired moms at my table apply their creativity to the project, hoping to learn from them. Eventually, I chose a Bible verse poster and made the wood-framed wall-hanging. Little did I realize how meaningful that project would later become.

I wondered what to do with the wall-hanging. My husband and I were moving that summer, and we needed to downsize everything. I almost gave the project away, knowing that everything we owned would be packed up for 6 months to a year as we constructed an addition onto our cabin. Living out of a suitcase for the first 4 months, I somehow I found that wall-hanging in our boxes of stuff relegated to an unfinished room. I saw the project and then read through the Bible verse:

The Lord is my strength and my shield; in him my heart trusts. Psalm 28:7a ESV

Reading that verse, chosen long ago from Amber’s tabletop of colorful options, I recognized my need to apply those words to my construction-zone frustrations. I pounded a nail into a 2×4 and hung up the verse in our bare toilet stall. Little did I realize how poignant and meaningful that verse would become over the next six months. My husband ended up with an acute illness lasting almost two months, which required lots of time in that room, to phrase it tactfully. During the long-lasting construction projects, I also had plenty of time to memorize and meditate on that Bible verse.

Thank you, Amber, for giving us physical reminders that stir our hearts to grow closer to God. You may never realize the impact your projects make on individual lives, but I pray that you keep sharing the artistry and creativity God designed in you.

December 5, 2018 by Kristina Lunde 1 Comment

The Hole at Our Christmas Table

Photo of Christmas tree & Bible — Photo by Aaron Burden on Unsplash

The hole at our Christmas table
Is an unwanted change this year.
We continue on after the death
Of our beloved son, so dear.

Fa la la la la
The season marches on
While everyone is celebrating,
We hurt because he’s gone.

‘Tis a Christmas, oh not so merry,
Since the death has gripped us so.
We trudge along in painful grief,
In shadows of our mournful woe.

We have not turned against our God;
Our Savior’s birth we do not question.
But the little energy we now have,
Makes it tough to host a celebration.

Some days we merely make it through
In this oppressive pain of mourning,
But more persistent than this grief
Is God’s deep comfort ongoing.

We trust the eternal creator God
Despite the death of our beloved one,
Who now lives in a place prepared
By Jesus, God’s own precious son.

Instead of dreading the holly, jolly
Of the world’s celebration this season,
We choose to keep our focus narrowed
On the birth of Jesus as our reason.

Now our loved one is in heaven,
Living in God’s eternal peace.
We pray for God’s gift of refreshment
And recall of cherished memories.

The memories, although treasures,
Are sometimes bittersweet and sad
As we change our focus from the death
To the blessings of the son we had.

This year our Christmas table
Will obviously have a hole.
But may our hearts and souls be filled,
By our Lord Immanuel.

[To Tami, in memory of your son Nick, as you miss him this Christmas and always.]

October 8, 2018 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

A Mother’s Launching Love

Dear Heather, who launched your oldest off to kindergarten this fall, and Kirsten, who moved your oldest into his freshman dorm room,

Although living at opposite ends of the mothering continuum, you are both experiencing unsettling emotions as you launch your children into new challenges. Your mother-child bond, deeply loving and fiercely protective, brings up bittersweet feelings even as you recognize the importance of your child’s developmental milestones. Different launches, but similar poignant aches.

Heather, you have prepared LaVonne so well for kindergarten; her academic and social skills will take her far in elementary school. More importantly, her love for Jesus will bring God’s light and love to others around her.

Kirsten, you have poured love, support, and teaching into the eighteen-year lifetime of your firstborn Christopher. He will now practice and develop those skills independently as he adjusts to college.

Heather and Kirsten, you may question whether your families are prepared for these big changes. As mothers, both of you have witnessed how new challenges develop your children. From that first toddling step out of your arms, your child faced away from you and took off on new adventures. You celebrated your toddler’s new skill of walking, balancing your excitement with parental concern for potential injuries. In your children’s current steps away from you, you will enjoy seeing them make friends, try new activities, and mature in different ways. This launch will also be a balance of excitement and concern, as you support their progress but feel unsettled about the unknowns.

As we mother our children, we stretch and grow along with them. Years ago my friend Nancy called me after I came home from the hospital with my newborn daughter. Both new to the mothering role, Nancy and I shared our surprise over the intense feelings of love and concern we felt for our babies. A tumble of maternal bonding and hormones in the first week with her newborn Ben, Nancy had burst into tears at the aching realization that her precious boy would some day leave her and go off to kindergarten. (Ben successfully survived that milestone and many more; as an adult, he now has a close relationship with his mom.)

This fall, my friend Daphne lamented as she packed away her sons’ train play-table and little-kid toys. As her youngest son started middle school, she experienced the bittersweet reality that playtime had changed and her sons were no longer little boys.

Heather and Kirsten, as you lovingly release your children in this season of launching, please recognize that this is your chance to develop as well. Whether sending a child off to kindergarten or college, the adjustment can motivate you to pray and draw closer to God. Allow God to guide, support, and direct your precious children in their new steps away from home. As you entrust your children to God in new ways, may God give you time and energy to deepen your relationship with Him.

Lord, please be with all of us mothers in various seasons of launching our children. Please guide our children in every step of their new paths. Help us as mothers to reach the goal of Proverbs 22:6. “Train up a child in the way he should go and when he is old, he will not depart from it.” In Jesus’ name. Amen.

August 1, 2018 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

The Move: A Mom’s Reflections on Boxes and Stuff

Boxes. Clothes. Stuff. First-world problems of too much stuff in the basement. Boxes of my children’s stuff: school memories, projects, photo albums, and yearbooks. A trumpet, music stand, and tennis racket in the corner. Clothes, costumes, and uniforms on a hanging rod, long neglected and outdated. Former extracurricular pursuits, now abandoned for a focus on college classes and career preparation.

Not only my children’s boxes, but boxes of stuff belonging to my husband and me. Plus memorabilia from deceased relatives. I am the keeper of family mementos, my house the repository of family history. My parents’ photo albums, dating back to the 1930s. Super 8 mm movies from the 1960s-1970s in their metal tins with a matching movie projector. Prom pictures from the 70s, photos, souvenirs, and clothing from my late husband’s life, stored for my children to sort through some day. More stuff in labeled boxes.

Hours spent sorting, donating, and re-packing the stuff. Carloads of boxes and items donated. Boxes and more stuff, memory after stored memory, lugged out of the basement, out of the house.

Not many memories from the room itself: a few projects completed and a water softener that ate large bags of salt. The heady stench of marker and the ripping noise of packing tape ceased; the empty room awaited only cleaning before the move. I noticed the smell of moisture from the concrete basement floor. My California daughter used to correlate that smell of humidity with her Midwestern grandmother’s house. “It smells like Oma’s basement.” How quickly that became our own overlooked basement smell once we moved to Minnesota.

Swish, swish. The sound of the broom clearing the last of the room. A residual of dust and bugs where life and memories had been stored.

And then I saw the vertical wooden column upon which I had tallied my children’s growth. Dates, ages, and initials of both kids, their growth verified on the upright framing. The 2 by 4 stood sentry next to a big black plumbing pipe, both essential to the house structure. I snapped a photo and took only memories along with me.

The newly-cleaned basement and house seemed lonely. No kid shrieks or laughter; no youthful energy inside. Gone were the door slams from frustrated teenagers. No kids racing downstairs as I trudged up with box after box. From solid concrete to soft carpet, stuff traveled up the stairs, out the door, and onto the trailer.

Slosh, slosh. The mop diffused a clean smell. A sanitized room awaited the home buyer.

Goodbye home. Goodbye to the place where my children laughed, played, and grew. And grew. And grew. And then they launched.

Thank you, Lord, for your provision and protection as we grew and made memories in our wonderful home. Please bless the new owners.