empty nest Archives - Kristina Lunde

March 30, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Coronavirus Chaos as God’s Reorg

March, 2020. Coronavirus chaos. COVID-19-related lockdown. A pandemic that stopped everything. No people to see or places to go. No stuff to do. My calendar of activities blanked out. A reorganization of everything in my life.

God, is this pandemic part of your plan?! Shouldn’t I be going, doing, meeting, etc.? Aren’t those activities the work you planned for me to do?

What an inopportune time for this to be happening. So I thought seven months ago when coronavirus chaos set in and the COVID-19 lockdown began. After moving to a new community, my husband and I involved ourselves in a church—really involved, as in four nights a week, some daytime commitments, occasional extra activities. In our previous town, we lived within a mile of our church. From our rural home, we drive 25 minutes for church, groceries, or anything. Until COVID-19 stopped our schedule.

God, what can I possibly learn from being stuck at home?! Yes, I am grateful to be healthy, but now what?

As an extrovert, this is not my lifestyle. I miss people! Especially kids. This is an empty-nester isolation sentence: no Sunday school to teach, no youth group to help, no kids in our neighborhood. I could be doing something important.

God, this is like a painful reorg! You took my current life’s org chart and wiped out the connected boxes.

A reorg (reorganization) happens in order to restructure an organization for growth, efficiency, expansion—or even reduction. The goal is to maximize the company’s resources, strategies, and people for improved outcomes. When you work at the bottom of the chart, as I often have, a new org chart brings surprises. Where did people go? Who am I stuck with on my team? Why can’t I be on the other side with that person/team/salary? What happened to the higher-ups that I trust?

God, I don’t like this coronavirus reorg. Why did you have to shake-up my life?

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

Dear Lord, let me submit to your reorg of my life, my activities, my schedule, and my networks. I may not like the disconnections or the uprooting, but teach me to submit. Convict me where I need to be convicted, and turn my selfish heart away from sinful attitudes and actions. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Seek the LORD while he may be found; call on him while he is near. Let the wicked forsake their ways and the unrighteous their thoughts. Let them turn to the LORD, and he will have mercy on them, and to our God, for he will freely pardon. “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways and my thoughts than your thoughts.” Isaiah 55:6-9

Dear Lord, I feel trapped, unproductive, and frustrated. Forgive me for my bad attitude and reluctance to learn. Forgive me for taking my health for granted when so many are ill and dying. A contemplative attitude and reflection are tough for me. Please help me to focus on studying your Word, following your guidance, and obeying you. Change my priorities and pursuits to align with your ways. Your will be done. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. Finally, brothers and sisters, whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things. Philippians 4:7-8

[Originally posted October 2020]

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]

October 31, 2019 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Discipling Across Genders and Generations

Driving home from church events last week, I listened to a sermon series by Philip De Courcy on my radio station. In his expository teaching on Titus 2:1-5, De Courcy explained discipleship between older and younger women in the church. One recurring phrase of De Courcy’s resonated with me: “the church’s job is to disciple across genders and across generations.”

What does discipling across genders and generations look like in my life? My starting point is Jesus’ sending words in Matthew 28:19-20, “Therefore go and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And surely I am with you always, to the very end of the age.” My decades’ long discipling project changed focus as my two children, a son and a daughter, launched as young adults. Much as I would love to hop a plane and be a missionary elsewhere, I live in the northern Minnesota woods. Now that I am an empty nester, how does God challenge me to disciple across genders and generations?

Across Genders

The football hit my leg as I spoke. Sitting in the front row, Jacob listened and focused on me even as he tossed the football in the air. Then he missed the catch. After it bounced off my leg, I picked it up and set it behind me. Jacob obviously sat where he could not be distracted by peers, held eye contact with me (so much so that he dropped the football) and paid attention.

God, why me?! Our youth director asked me to give the middle-school lessons on Wednesdays. I can’t do this! I don’t have the physical comedy skills to get their attention. My language is old; my references, slang, and language patterns are far removed from these kids. That antsy energy that I used to get in trouble for? They have that too! I don’t want to shame them or discourage them from listening and growing in Christ. Help me, God to serve in your name and teach from your truth only. In Jesus’ name.

After background checks and other paperwork, volunteers from local churches participated in a mentoring lunch program at our public middle school. Each assigned to 1-3 kids at a time, volunteers spent three lunch periods in a row playing board games, enjoying seasonal-themed activities, and talking with the middle schoolers. On my first day, I met “Lexi” (not her real name). Lexi ate her pizza and talked, spilling out anecdotes of family dysfunction, neglect, and gender dysphoria. I connected with her on places of my own family wounds, but mostly I listened as she poured out her story. Later, I relayed concerns to the school counselor in charge of the mentoring program, who assured me that Lexi was receiving regular and professional counseling.

Dear God, you love “Lexi” so much! Please help her to realize that she is your precious child, created in your image. Please protect her in that chaotic household. Make her aware of your love and guidance. Dear Jesus, please let me love with your love and listen with your patience. In Jesus’ name.

“Sorry, guys. David [our youth director] called and texted every man he knew, but he couldn’t find a man to lead your group tonight. I am their last choice so you are stuck with me.” I introduced myself to the 8th and 9th grade boys’ small group on a recent Wednesday night. This fun group of young men surprised and humbled me as they discussed how they spent time with God.

God, thank you that these young men are yours. Keep them loving and following you, and please bring a male group leader to challenge and encourage them. In Jesus’ name.

Across Generations

Titus 2:3-5 spells out how older women should teach younger women. Mature Christian women have blessed me (thank you, Mom and Maryanne!) and now, as an empty nester, I want to bless others that way. Before we moved, I volunteered in MOPS as a mentor mom and now I occasionally return to speak. In my current location, I mentor informally or when moms contact me.

Lord God, teach me to open my heart and schedule to mothers and wives who need encouragement and direction from you, Lord. Help me to always point them to the truth of Jesus. In your name.

In my new church, I co-lead a small group of middle-school girls in youth group. Last year, we had sixteen 5th-8th graders; this year our list includes eight 6th-8th graders. We discuss the lessons, share from our hearts, and pray together.

Dear God, you know and love these girls. Please keep drawing them to you and deepen their relationship with you. In Jesus’ name.

Six months ago, Pastor Mark gave a kick-me-in-the-butt sermon (my words, never his) about loving your neighbor. God used that to convict and motivate me to meet and serve the family at the end of our gravel road. I now spend time helping 93 year-old, bedridden, cancer-ravaged Edith. As a nurse, the diarrhea and diaper ministry is doable, but listening to anger and cursing are not my choice of ministry. When I hear Christ’s name yelled in hostility, my strategy is to sing “Jesus loves me, this I know . . .” Turns out Edith’s mother sang that song to her eighty-some years ago, and now it seems to calm her.

Lord, once again you sent me where I didn’t want to go. Forgive me for resisting. Change my heart to love and serve my neighbors in your name. In Jesus’ name.

Jesus’ words in Matthew 28:19 to “go and make disciples of all nations” includes all genders and generations. May God affirm our identity in Him, teach us to obey, and ground us in His love as He sends us to disciple across genders and generations.

Lord, teach me, humble me, and use me to minister in your love. Please send me to disciple across genders and generations. 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.