Kristina Lunde

The Lord is my strength and my song.
Psalm 118:14a

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March 31, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Widowed Parent Challenge: Join Your Child’s Play

Photo by LaterJay on Pixabay

Dear Widowed Parent,

Your world turned upside down, inside out, ripped apart—anything but normal. The support of a parenting partner feels so far away. Or maybe, life with your spouse and co-parent seems as close as yesterday. Whatever the reason, timing, or other aspects of your spouse’s death, you now parent alone. In widowed terms, you became an only parent. The single aspect did not occur by choice or acceptance; there is no child support or weekend relief. The death of your loved one relegated you to the rank of only parent. Precious parent, whose life has been seared by death and grief, try to enter into your child’s world of play. For those of you in the trenches of only-parenting, I offer this advice in the form of a challenge: join your children in the joy of their play and allow yourself to be temporarily distracted from your grief.

Kids & Grief

For children, grief comes in stages that progress along with the the child’s development. At age eleven when my father died in a plane crash, my initial grief focused only on the present. I felt sad for my Dad, because he would never find out that our dog failed to pass obedience training on the night of the plane crash. My childhood brain could not imagine future sorrows. As I grew older, grief revisited me during events in middle school: my first band concert, getting braces, and confirmation. As a child, much of my life remained to be experienced, so the absence of my dad caused new waves of grief whenever I grew and changed. Only later when my own children grieved, did I realize how my grief had changed through the years as my child-centered awareness of the world expanded.

One surprising aspect of children’s grief is their ability to transition in and out of grief. Adults often find this disconcerting, as children may seem unaffected by the death. For example, at their father’s funeral, my sad children became excited to see friends and relatives. They bounced back and forth between family members, collecting hugs and attention during the somber service. As an adult, I felt numb and shocked as I zombied through the funeral and reception. While adults understand and mourn the implications of a person’s death, a child cannot. This protective mechanism, whether due to situational filtering or developmental distractibility, provides a necessary respite for a grieving child. My children may have felt sadness at conversations about Daddy’s death, but at the funeral reception, they ran outside to play with friends. In contrast, the adults remained inside, unable to focus on anything but death and loss.

Join Your Child’s Play

A wise widower recommended that I play with my children as they played. Months after my husband died, as I lay crying with suicidal thoughts, I remembered that widower’s advice. I forced myself out of my room, determined to spend time with my kids. My six-year-old son Ben sat at the piano practicing, so I joined him on the piano bench. He soon had me laughing, which distracted me from my grief and pain. Ben had the ability to bring joy to the situation, a blessing I recognized as a gift from God.

Of course my grief persisted, but I resolved to purposefully enter my children’s world of play. I learned to join them in the joy of their play, experiencing a refreshing break from the reality of my widowed life and the ongoing grief. A child’s play is their creative laboratory, a safe place for them to experiment and learn about their world. Consider it a privilege to enter a child’s play for a glimpse of their perspective. My favorite play activity became our afternoon sessions of jumping on the trampoline. The usual game featured my two kids versus me in the “Let’s bounce Mom higher” contest. That is not a game you can play with a straight face or while crying. We often dropped onto our backs in giggles, relaxing as we let the trampoline bounce us back to stability.

My Prayer for You

My dear widowed parent, please consider my challenge to join your child as they experience joy in their play. I pray that God will give you opportunities and insight on how to play with your children. May our precious God provide a reprieve in your grief and help you savor time with your children in whatever activities they enjoy. I pray for God’s blessings on you: beauty for ashes, His oil of joy for your mourning, and His garment of praise for your despairing spirit. May our dear Lord plant you securely in His righteousness as you process your grief.

God’s Grief Therapy

And provide for those who grieve in Zion—to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of his splendor. Isaiah 61:3 NIV

[Originally posted January 2022]

Filed Under: Grief, Parenting Tagged With: child's play, grief, grieving children, letter, parenting, play, prayer, widow, widowed parent

March 29, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Love and Launch from the Empty Nest

Clipart/Pixabay

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]

Filed Under: Parenting Tagged With: college graduation, empty nest, launch, letter, mother, nostalgia, parenting

November 28, 2019 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

A Mother’s Prayers Preempted by a Sovereign Heavenly Father

Dear One,

You followed your passion in college, filling your days with studies and hard work in preparation for graduate school. I prayed that God would open doors and lead you to a school in your chosen field, but you did not get accepted into any graduate schools. You later described how you asked God for forgiveness for the bitterness, frustration, and anger you felt after that disappointment. Having learned to wait, and even surrender your ambitious dreams, you now give God credit for His peace in your life.

Woman holding Bible and praying
Photo by Olivia Snow on Unsplash

Lord, your will be done.

When you graduated from college, I prayed that God would give you a job in your field. You worked two part-time jobs for almost six months and applied to eighty-five jobs. (I felt discouraged and frustrated for you!) In retrospect, you saw God’s miraculous provision in the job He ultimately gave you.

Lord, your will be done.

For months, I prayed that God would encourage you by improving the communication and working relationships at your job. Despite the verbal promise of a two-year position, your boss let you go on short notice that your position lost funding. (Not the answer I prayed for.) Instead of being bitter or vengeful, you gave God credit for teaching you to want the best for your co-workers and to diligently complete your projects.

Lord, your will be done.

In your current period of unemployment, I keep praying for God to find you a job. No job yet, but you write of trusting God to open doors and give you peace about uncertainty. I love your phrase about “enjoying the closeness of God’s presence,” even though you remain unemployed. You learned to submit all of this to God, a process that might not have been happened if God had quickly answered my prayer.

Lord, your will be done.

The growth, maturity, and perspective that you have gained reveal God’s work in you. May our sovereign heavenly Father keep drawing you closer to Him, even though this process can be challenging and painful. As Psalm 37:4 says, “Delight yourself in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Keep trusting God because He created you and knows exactly what you need.

Love you.
Mom

Lord, your will be done: not what I think is best, but what you as her sovereign heavenly Father know that she needs. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Filed Under: Prayer Tagged With: college, daughter, heavenly Father, Job, letter, mother, parenting, prayer

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.

Filed Under: Parenting Tagged With: college, kindergarten, letter, mothering, parenting

April 17, 2017 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Grief Support: A Letter to Grieving Children

[Note: this grief letter was sent to the siblings of a child who died suddenly.]

You do not know me, but I am praying that God will be with you when you get sad and miss your brother. (Those feelings of sadness and loss are called grief.) I wanted to send you some things so that you and your family could write, draw, and remember your brother by making a memory book.

When someone you love dies, you often think of them. I am sure you miss playing with your brother and hearing his voice. My two children were 6 and 8 years old when their daddy, who was my husband, died. One of their favorite parts of the Bible, that helped them feel better, was John 14:1-4:

“Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father’s house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am. You know the way to the place where I am going.”

Those were Jesus’ words to His disciples, or helpers, before He died. Jesus died, but He did not stay dead. He rose, or came alive again, and went to heaven to be with God, His Father. That is the same place—heaven or eternal life—that we will go to if we believe in Jesus, like the Bible tells us in John 3:16:

“For God so loved the world that he gave his one and only Son, that whoever believes in him shall not perish but have eternal life.”

When someone dies, we do not see them anymore. But if they know Jesus, we can be sure that they are in heaven. My kids liked to think that their daddy was working with Jesus, building the house in heaven, and getting it ready for when we go to heaven later. Maybe that is a picture you can have in your mind to help you. What would your brother like to do in a big house with Jesus?

Another way to think of heaven is when birds fly south for the winter. We stay here and freeze in the winter, but the birds are alive and enjoying the warm weather somewhere where we cannot see them. That might be another idea of how you can think of your brother: alive with Jesus and having fun, even though you cannot see him.

May God comfort you and help you to understand more about Jesus, even though your family misses your brother so much.

[Note: If you have experienced the death of a loved one, check out GriefShare to sign up for daily emails of comfort and encouragement or to find a local GriefShare group.]

Filed Under: Grief Tagged With: grief, grieving children, letter, parenting

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