mothering Archives - 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]

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.

April 28, 2018 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Parenting, Plimsoll Lines, and Priorities

Parenting. Plimsoll lines. Priorities. A Plimsoll line illustrates a maritime law that involves oceans, ballast, and cargo ships. This seemingly unrelated concept became an insightful parenting metaphor in my friend Teresa’s recent MOPS (Mothers of Preschoolers) talk.

In the 1870s, British Parliament member Samuel Plimsoll examined the ongoing problem of overloaded commercial shipping vessels sinking at sea. He developed maximum depth standards for safe loading of ships’ cargo. These standards evaluated factors like salt/sea water, size of ship, time of year, and type of load to determine how deeply the ship could be immersed in water and still safely carry cargo. In 1876, British law mandated that load limits be indicated by a reference line painted on the ship’s hull. These reference lines became known as Plimsoll lines which remain a part of international maritime law.

A Plimsoll line that disappears underwater is an obvious mark of an overloaded ship. Teresa emphasized that principle to the mothers at our MOPS meeting. She spoke of the importance of evaluating our individual situation and then determining our “Plimsoll line,” the point at which we are maximally loaded with responsibilities. Teresa emphasized that, just as Plimsoll lines take into account load factors and seasons, so we need to determine what we can manage and how close we are to sinking.

Teresa’s motivating talk centered on our ultimate goal of following Christ and how we set goals based upon that foundation. As she described how to set realistic parenting and personal goals, Teresa cautioned us to avoid busy-ness and distractions that keep us from doing what God wants us to do. She encouraged us to exercise our “no muscle” by deliberately saying no to activities that would exceed our Plimsoll lines and cause us to sink.

Although she missed Teresa’s talk, our discussion group leader Staci became a great example of using a Plimsoll line. With three boys ages five and under, Staci is a dynamic example of following Christ. As a MOPS mentor mom, I am honored to be part of Staci’s table. On the Wednesdays that MOPS does not meet, Staci sets up playdates for our group. She is involved with high-schoolers, both in her church as youth group helper and in the community as the high school musical choreographer.

On the MOPS morning that Teresa spoke, Staci decided to stay home with her boys. No specific reason, but she said they needed to have a quiet day at home. Little did Staci realize that exercising her “no muscle” in that way was a much-needed preparation for what happened later. That night, her son Jace became sick with vomiting and a fever. Because Staci had recognized her Plimsoll line and cut back on her daytime activities, she had the resources for her long night of illness-assessing, child-comforting, and linen-changing. Staci’s choice also spared the other MOPS’ kids from sharing the nasty virus.

Dear God, please give us wisdom to establish Plimsoll lines for our lives. Teach us how to set goals and relevant boundaries as we follow Christ. In His name we pray. Amen.

November 3, 2015 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Letter to a Mother of Little Ones

Dear Neighborhood Mom,

“Someday I’ll be able to take a leisurely walk with my husband in the morning,” you commented wistfully as Craig and I walked by the elementary school bus stop that first week of school.

Having made lunches, read the Bible, seen my high schoolers off, and loaded the dishwasher, I was glad to walk out the door with my husband and dogs. A peaceful walk counterbalanced our usual morning whirlwind of irritated-at-life, crabby-during-devotions, storm-out-the-door teenagers.

We saw your oldest son whiz by on a bicycle earlier, the radiant grin under the helmet not unlike your husband’s when he rides. As you walked your two boys to the bus stop, preschooler Elizabeth boldly tried to keep up with big brothers, all the while maintaining a clutch-hold on mom’s pants. Dear neighbor mom, your coffee in one hand and the other arm draped around Elizabeth at the bus stop with your boys, you are the epitome of a supportive mom. Your love for your kids is obvious and precious. Strolling past you and hearing your comment took me back to my harried young mom days.

I remember the loads of laundry, dutifully thrown into the washing machine early in the morning, as the rest of the dirty clothes mounded up in dune-like ridges across the floor. The dishes piled high and spills congealed on the counter waiting for me to clean in my “free” moments, as little ones demanded help and guidance getting ready for school. Brushing hair, wiping milk off of sweet little faces, and grabbing backpacks was all part of the rush to leave. Toys lay strewn across the floor, dropped mid-game in the hurried frenzy to get everyone out the door on time.

Household maintenance, job responsibilities, family paperwork, and all the other non-parenting duties get pushed to lower priority in the midst of the pressing immediacy of young children’s needs. Please know that this busyness is a season of stages and challenges in life that will change. Someday you will again sleep in, have uninterrupted conversations with your husband, and be left alone in the bathroom!

I used to hate it when older women told me to savor this time of young children “because it passes by so fast.” I remember one woman chased me down to speak those words to me as I held a baby in one arm, balanced a tantruming toddler and a diaper bag with the other hand, and tried to open the car door. It had been a long morning and a tough wait for a pediatrician appointment, and I needed to get the saturated-diaper baby and starving toddler home. I know I growled at the woman, if not literally, then figuratively with a dismissive comment. I resolved then to never say anything like that to other young mothers, even on the chance that her words would eventually prove true.

Instead, I want to encourage you in your mothering. Someday you will have the luxury of completing breakfast chores while older children dress themselves. They will learn to brush, groom, and toilet completely on their own. Hard to imagine from where you are parenting now, I am sure. This morning, I read from the Bible as my teenagers foraged for their own breakfast – a level of independence I never imagined when my kids were your kids’ age. Your hard work will pay off, and they will have learned, and applied, the many lessons you are teaching them, day after fatiguing day.

Thank you for contributing so much to our community in your church and job roles, but I want to especially thank you for loving your four little ones as your main role. May God bless you with strength, patience, and parenting wisdom as you meet the daily challenges of raising little children.