Kristina Lunde

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

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December 31, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Prayer & Architecture on a Clinic Visit

Snow patches dot the roof as gray clouds obliterate any hint of sun. Despite the drab skies, floor-to-ceiling windows usher light into the laboratory waiting room of Mayo Clinic’s Gonda Building. People file out of elevators, line up at the reception desk, and then take a seat in the sea of chairs. They wait to surrender their blood, the vital fluid that will direct diagnostic and treatment decisions. My friend K similarly hopes that her what, why, and how medical questions will be answered by laboratory results.

I join K to chauffeur, support, and take notes during her visit to Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. My God-given responsibility is to pray for her as she faces two days of tests, scans, and appointments. Injected with radioactive materials and other chemicals for picture-taking, K undergoes hi-tech scanning. I pray for clear-cut, sliced-and-diced pictures of K’s tumor that will map out cancer treatment options. All that information will be funneled into the final evaluation by the world-renowned oncology surgeon. He will decide whether he can excise the tumor—or that he cannot offer surgical treatment.

Kahler Hotel, Rochester MN
Siebens Building, Rochester, MN

After K marches back to meet the vampires, I become distracted from praying by the eclectic architecture. Outside the third floor window, the hospital’s exterior structure consists of gray marble panels and steel window frames. These surfaces intersect a narrow flat roof that obscures the streets below. Beyond the roof, Gothic arches line the top floor of a grand old building. That limestone structure reflects in the wall of windows across the street. The windowed modern building contains a vertical panel of concrete that brutally contrasts with both of its antique neighbors.

Plummer Building, Rochester, MN

Finally, I tear my focus away from the inanimate to pray for K—only to be distracted again. The next architectural masterpiece in my line of vision holds gargoyles, griffins, and other statues. A rooftop flag ripples in the pre-blizzard winds, providing the only visible movement above the urban street. Tiles, mini-balconies, and other bric-a-brac ornamentation embellish every visible horizontal and vertical surface.

My excitement over urban architecture fades when K comes out of the lab. K, a strong woman who survived an intense triple regimen of tumor-poison, chooses the stairs over the elevator. I join her march up the seven flights to her surgical oncology appointment. In the exam room, the primary surgeon surprises everyone by arriving an hour early to the appointment. Other professionals enter the room. The moment of truth arrives as photos of K’s innards fill the computer monitor screen.

The practitioners describe the tumor’s response to chemotherapy in glowing adjectives. The surgeon presents the outcome of K’s chemotherapy: surgery is now an option. Briefly, I raise my hands heavenward to the God who answers prayers, and then I resume my note-taking. Looking at the scan as if it were a map, the surgeon plans and describes his surgical path. He traces his intended journey into the organ, around the tumor, and through neighboring structures. K smiles along with the entire team.

Thank you, God, for guiding K’s chemotherapy, making it work, and providing the previously unthinkable option of surgery. Please keep your healing hand on K. Guide her medical team and give her the treatments and care that she needs. Help me to love, support, and pray for K as you intend. Thank you, dear Lord, for miracles that don’t depend on feeble human prayers easily distracted by urban architecture. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Filed Under: Prayer Tagged With: architecture, chemotherapy, Mayo Clinic, prayer

November 30, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Psalm 23 Kids’ Prayer

Image by Cocoparisienne/Pixabay

Yay God—you’re my shepherd! I don’t need anything, because you take good care of me.

Thanks for giving me places to eat, drink, and rest.

You energize me! Help me obey you, in Jesus’ name.

Even when things get bad, I don’t need to be afraid, because you’re always with me. I like it when you fight my enemies and pull me close to you.

When the bad guys are all around me, you do all kinds of cool things to love and support me.

Thanks for the good stuff you give me while I live here and when I—for sure!—go to heaven.

I love you, my good shepherd God! In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Psalm 23 ESV

1 The LORD is my shepherd; I shall not want.
2 He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters.
3 He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake.
4 Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me.
5 You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows.
6 Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the LORD forever.

Note: For a grown-up prayer of Psalm 23, see https://kristinalunde.com/psalm-23-prayer/

Filed Under: Prayer Tagged With: lamb, prayer, Psalm 23, sheep, shepherd

September 28, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

Psalm 23 Prayer

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. Psalm 23:1

Lord, thank you for being my shepherd and providing everything I need and want.

Photo by Adina Voicu/Pixabay

He makes me lie down in green pastures. He leads me beside still waters. Psalm 23:2

Lord, guide me to your chosen places for rest and nourishment. Quench my thirst with your living water.

He restores my soul. He leads me in paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Psalm 23:3

Please revive me from the inside out, Lord God. Pull me back from my sheep-like wandering to follow only you, in Jesus’ name.

Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me; your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Psalm 23:4

Thank you for navigating me through death’s dark shadows. Help me to recognize your constant presence, so that I will not be afraid. Thank you for shepherding me with your rod and your staff: you protect me from my enemies and yank me back when I stray.

You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies; you anoint my head with oil; my cup overflows. Psalm 23:5

Even when enemies surround me, Lord God, you set me up to feast on your goodness. You pour out your anointing on me, beyond what I can contain. Lord, I am grateful.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Psalm 23:6 ESV

Lord, I have confidence in your goodness and love, which will accompany me throughout my life on this earth. Thank you, Lord God, for the certainty of living with you in your presence forever. In Jesus’ name. Amen.

Note: For a kids’ prayer of Psalm 23, see https://kristinalunde.com/psalm-23-kids-prayer/

Filed Under: Prayer Tagged With: prayer, Psalm 23, sheep, shepherd

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 30, 2022 by Kristina Lunde Leave a Comment

God be the Center

“Be thou the center of our least endeavor.” These words from the hymn “A Christian Home,” written by Barbara B. Hart in 1965, echoed in my ears after last Sunday’s church service. That phrase, for God to be the center, formed a punch line before the final line of the last verse:

O Lord, our God, our homes are Thine forever! 
We trust to Thee their problems, toil, and care; 
Their bonds of love no enemy can sever 
If Thou art always Lord and Master there: 
Be Thou the center of our least endeavor: 
Be Thou our Guest, our hearts and homes to share.

What it does not mean

That second-to-last line surprised me with what it did not pray for:

God, center my self-focus as I reflect on past pain and suffering.
Yes, in retrospect, I recognize God’s comfort and help through past troubled times. But I need to make Him the center of my life from this moment forward.

God be the center of my upcoming project.
Yes, I want God to be my foundation as I pursue the projects that He guides me to accomplish. But I need His guidance on more than just the big tasks.

God, be the center of my future.
Yes, I entrust what lies ahead to my Creator and Savior. But I need Him in the present moment.

God, be the center of my success.
Yes, I pray for God to be with me in my proud moments of achievement. But that is not the only time I need to be centered on God.

What it does mean

Of course, I desire God to be the central aspect of my past, present, future, projects, successes, goals, achievements, and choices. But what about inviting God to be the center of my everyday tasks, chores, and responsibilities? Even more humbling, what about establishing God as the center of my least-favorite, most-disgusting, often-dreaded activities? What if I pray God into the center of my everyday life, the here and now, even when I find it boring and undesirable?

Brother Lawrence’s writings, published in The Practice of the Presence of God, focus on his insights and time with God during the everyday tasks of life. Born Nicholas Herman in the early 1600s, Brother Lawrence spent years working in a monastery. His writings describe how he disciplined himself to focus on God as he worked, most frequently peeling potatoes in the kitchen. Five hundred years later, Brother Lawrence’s words still stand as a testament of how to involve God as the center of our least endeavor.

How

In Matthew 6:11, the Lord’s Prayer gives me an example of inviting God into my everyday life: “give us today our daily bread.” Not provision for the future, not pantries and freezers full of food for an entire month, but just enough for today’s nourishment. This verse helps me pray for God’s provision, for Him to supply me in the amount and timing that fills my needs, not what I think I deserve. In this way, I learn to trust God for His help in essentials of daily life.

Stormie O’Martian explores that same theme in her book, appropriately entitled Just Enough Light For The Step I’m On (1986, Harvest House Publishers). The image that comes to my mind is Psalm 119:105: “your word is a lamp for my feet, a light on my path.” God guides me with His word, giving me what I need on my everyday walk with Him.

My Prayer

Lord God, let my least endeavor be filled with your presence at the center. No matter how insignificant or irritating I find my everyday task, help me to rely on you as my foundation and guide. In Jesus’ name. Amen.
[Originally posted June 2021]

Filed Under: Trust Tagged With: Brother Lawrence, hymn, lyrics, prayer, trust

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Recent Writing

  • Gomer’s Lessons: Love God and Love Your Husband
  • Prayer & Architecture on a Clinic Visit
  • Psalm 23 Kids’ Prayer
  • Two Widows, Two Sons and One Powerful God
  • Psalm 23 Prayer

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