My Favorite Word of the Day

hence

I just saw this word in a message and I realized

how underutilized in our daily speech

this magnificent word is.

HENCE, I will use it more often and start a word revolution!

We are the Stories We Tell

(published in Pittman Creek Community Newsletter)

.

“It is not so much that things happen in a family

as it is that the family is the things that happen in it.

The family is continually becoming what becomes of it.

It is every christening and every commencement,

every falling in love, every fight,

every departure and return . . .”

(Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark)

The last time my family got together was for my grandfather’s funeral; before that, it was grandmother’s funeral. Beyond that it was for my grandparents’ 50th wedding anniversary. Family reunions faded away around the time I hit my latter teen years. As the years stretch longer between gatherings, I have mourned the loss of connection, recollection, and memory making. As we gathered before and after my grandparents’ funerals, there were many moments of poignant remembrances and tear-inducing hilarity. For me, anytime the family gathered at “the homeplace”, I got a taste of heaven, a glimpse of how things should be.

It used to be that family reunions were an annual event of each and every summer for the extended Anderson Family. Our 600-acre farm would overflow with people ranging in age from one week to 90 years young. A volleyball net would be set up, the front lawn hosted a softball game, the horses were saddled and ridden, Grandpa’s homemade “jitneys” were gassed up and zooming around the farm. Lawn chairs and picnic tables were set up all over the orchard. Tables fairly bowed under the weight of my Grandma’s excellent potato salad, plates of grilled chicken and hamburgers, every kind of jello/whip cream salad you can imagine, pies in a variety of summer fruits.

Best of all was the crowd of people! Between my parents, they have nine siblings who have supplied me with scads of cousins. There were also great-grandparents, great-uncles and –aunts, cousins removed any number of times, and a plethora of honorary relatives, too. As the talk and activity swirled around me, I felt loved and protected and significant. I belonged to something bigger than myself!

Grandpa Evan died eight years ago. It has been eight years since I’ve seen the more immediate relatives. The others I haven’t seen since I was a teenager. Typing this last sentence grieves me very much.

I have a two-year-old son, Thaddeus. I am sad that he won’t hear Uncle Joe tell about the time he experimented with a bullet, a vise, and a hammer (and grandpa’s fierce anger [which sprang from being totally scared out of his mind!]). I hate that he won’t grow up in a gaggle of cousins, running all over the farm, eating hot juicy strawberries from the patch, and being affectionately teased by his older relatives. He is poorer because he will not hear the handed-down story of how the family worked and played on that farm for over 100 years.

More than anything, I hate that we have become a family mostly in name only. We have lost our stories because we have abandoned the event during which storytelling flourishes: the Family Reunion. The family reunion is more than an event, it is a place. It is a location in which we can come home to where we are known and still learn more about others and ultimately ourselves. It is the place from which we can stand against the alienations that our world and culture thrust upon us: online living . . . not being thin—pretty—rich—smart enough . . . living lives so busy and so far from home that even annual visits are difficult to fit into our lives.

But earlier this month I made an April Fool’s Resolution: I am going to plan a family reunion for next year. Every month I am going to send out letters, make phone calls, beg, plead, cajole, and flirt my way into producing a family reunion. I need to hear Uncle Joe’s story of the bullet shattering the light bulb and grandpa’s yell shattering his ear drum! I need to hear how Uncle Jeff flipped the motorcycle while showing off for a girlfriend in front of Grandpa and Grandma. I need to remember I come from a specific location and a specific family.

God’s kindest (and most confounding) gift is the gift of each other in family--

“Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family:

Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one.”

(Jane Howard)

She Looks: Apostrophe to Sarah Pierpont by Jonathan Edwards [c. 1723]

They say there is a young lady in [New Haven] who is beloved of that almighty Being, who made and rules the world, and that there are certain seasons in which this great Being, in some way or other invisible, comes to her and fills her mind with exceeding sweet delight, and that she hardly cares for anything, except to meditate on him--that she expects after a while to be received up where he is, to be raised up out of the world and caught up into heaven; being assured that he loves her too well to let her remain at a distance from him always. There she is to dwell with him, and to be ravished with his love and delight forever. Therefore, if you present all the world before her, with the richest of its treasures, she disregards it and cares not for it, and is unmindful of any pain or affliction. She has a strange sweetness in her mind, and singular purity in her affections; is most just and conscientious in all her actions; and you could not persuade her to do anything wrong or sinful, if you would give her all the world, lest she should offend this great Being. She is of a wonderful sweetness, calmness and universal benevolence of mind; especially after those seasons in which this great God has manifested himself to her mind. She will sometimes go about from place to place, singing sweetly; and seems to be always full of joy and pleasure; and no one knows for what. She loves to be alone, and to wander in the fields and on the mountains, and seems to have someone invisible always conversing with her.

Hail to Texas!

I have missed Midwestern storms! Missed the big thunder, the pouring rain, the excitement of tornados (when they are close enough to threaten but far enough away that they don't live up to the potential), the dramatic weather bulletins . . . It's glorious!

Growing up on the farm, inclement weather meant everyone gathered at Grandpa Evan's and Grandma Johnnie's and fun was had! If we were snowed in, there was a big pot of chili (before we lost the electricity), sleeping in sleeping bags in the living room, missing school, playing games, etc. The town grandparents--Grandpa Keith and Grandma Wanda--would bring groceries to the end of the road where it met the highway and we would snowmobile the half-mile to get them. Fun!

If there was a tornado warning or bad winds, then we'd run up to the "big house" (not a jail, just what we called my grandparents' home!) and try to guess when to quick run to the basement! The power would often go out and the air was electric with excitement (and electricity from the lightning, too!)! Danger approached!

My aunt Julie had duly filled me up with horror stories for every situation. For the tornado, it was that a piece of straw had been wind-driven through a man's heart. To this day, when there are high winds I try to make sure that there isn't any loose straw around!

Oh, all the impending disaster!

Anyway, one day last week I was aware, sort of, that it was kind of dark outside, but it wasn't until I received an e-mail from my mom (in Iowa) that said she hoped that I (in Texas) was watching the weather and that I had a plan.

A plan? I suddenly realized that I didn't even have a basement, let alone a plan! For some reason, even though they live in a state with a healthy tornado season, Texans don't build every house with a basement. Like, ours doesn't have a basement. We do have a garden tub which is quite deep; however, it shares a wall with a huge picture window.

We have beautiful vaulted ceilings. We have a house FULL of gorgeous floor-to-ceiling windows. We have new carpet.

Yes, we have no basement. (Sung to the tune of Yes, We Have No Bananas!)

Thankfully, it only hailed. We do have a garage.




No plan yet, though.

So. Incredibly. Sad.

Johnny and June Carter Cash's home burned down yesterday . . .

They entertained presidents and Billy & Ruth Graham . . .

Hurt was partially filmed there.

They wrote music and lived their whole married lives in that house.

It is sad.

Thanks, Flemon!

Our lawn had become the eyesore of the neighborhood. We don't have a lawnmower and cringed at the prices. Then our neighbors confessed: it's a lovely, hard-working man named Flemon who keeps their lawns so well manicured and swept and lovely--for a price that is well below any market value I've heard!

Look at our beautiful lawn! (It is hard for me to say yard because in England, yard means a junkyard; they have lawns in England. And so shall I!)

Thanks to the rain we are finally getting, it is even greening up quite nicely!

URGENT

An acquaintance of ours, Eric Volz, has been wrongfully convicted of murder and imprisoned in Nicaragua and sentenced to 30 years in their penitentiary. A friend, Nick Purdy, was with Eric during the time Eric was supposedly committing the murder.

This is NOT an “iffy” story; Eric did NOT commit this murder. Please go to this site and acquaint yourself with the facts. You can see the YouTube video made to try and raise awareness about this gross miscarriage of justice.

Then I beg you to do three things:

1 Pray as often as you are able for Eric: his spirits, his health, his appeal, his safety, his freedom.
2 Forward this to as many people as you can, including local news outlets, contacts you have in marketing, PR, government . . . get it out there.
3 Write Eric & his family a note of support through his website. Maybe make a donation, even. These notes and gifts are sustaining the Volzes through this nightmare.

Thank you for reading and for acting.

“. . . Righteousness and justice are the foundation of his throne.” (Ps. 97.2)
“When justice is done, it brings joy to the righteous but terror to evildoers.” (Prov. 21.15)

Kϊrsten & Pete Christianson
http://solakirsten.blogspot.com/
http://thadwatch.blogspot.com/

You’ve heard about the Nicaraguan trial I’ve been involved in – my friend Eric
Volz is in prison.
A YouTube video has been made by a couple NYC filmmakers
to raise awareness – we need to get people to view this so that it rises up the
rankings and creates a sensation.
Please view it and forward to your
distribution lists:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8YChhOHrFA4

Thanks!

Nick
Purdy
President, On The Square Media
404.493.1176
http://www.onthesquaremedia.com/

"It's MINE Turn": A Message from Thad

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Why I am Glad I Moved to Texas

This same tree is now completely GREEN!

Beautiful.

Probably a weed, but still . . . beautiful!

A view from the ground

Blue Skies Comin' My Way!

SPRING! has SPRUNG!

Yea!

Finally Back to Our Striving-to-be-Regular Programming!

Well, I am three days into uninterrupted wireless internet and I am LOVING IT! A big shout-out to Aaron & Happy Computers for their help--a check worth writing, believe me!

Pete, on a business trip, is in Florida schmoozing for a living while Thad and I have hunkered down. We had dinner with some friends the other night. They have a little baby who is nine months old and she is delightful! Thad is very intrigued: what is this thing that cries sometimes and keeps trying to touch me and take what I have?

I miss Pete when he is on a trip, but I have to admit to being enough of an introvert that I do relish the few days of alone time (outside of the toddler that lives with me!). When Thad is asleep there is a quiet and a rest in knowing that I am (as much as a mom ever is) "off duty." I am free to exercise a little self-care.

I come from a family of women who recoil at those words: self-care. My mom's parents, grandparents and great-grandparents were farmers who worked hard at making their farm a success. For the women, it meant getting up at dawn to get breakfast on, get the kids up and ready for school (and care for the pre-schoolers), pack lunches for the men heading out to the field, get dinner started, put the house to order, do the breakfast dishes and do any outside chores that were considered "women's work": feed the chickens, table scraps to the hogs, work the garden, etc., etc., etc.

My mom and her siblings all had farm chores, too. There were animals to be cared for, lawns to be mowed, equipment to be fixed and cleaned, eggs to be hunted (and washed [ugh] and crated), etc., etc., etc.

By the time I came along, the farm had changed a lot and I really didn't have many farm chores. Feeding a few animals, mowing the lawns (extensive but great tanning opportunity!), and anything else that needed doing. However, the work ethic was passed down all the same. "Idle hands are the devil's tools."

If ever you want something done, or you need help moving or setting up house or building a barn, call my family. (And really, you can call any Iowan!) They can come in and get a whole house unboxed and set up in a day. It is a thing of beauty.

I can't recall my grandmother ever just sitting and doing nothing. Even while sitting and watching television, she was knitting or crocheting something for the family or a friend. She kept a very clean house (and my great-grandmother kept an immaculate house). She did the farm finances. She cared for her mother and her mother-in-law. She raised seven kids with an age spread of 17 years.

I am grateful for this way of life because I know I can do anything that has to be done. I have an amazing amount of reserve. I know how to work through pain for a greater good. I know how to see a job to completion when it simply has to be done. I know the value of the gift of a job well-done.

I wish there had been a little more balance, though. God does call us to rest one-seventh of the time. I find it hard to grasp that people actually prefer my presence to my baked goods. My (self-) worth gets tied up in what I accomplish rather than who I am.


This year, I am going to rest more. I am going to sit and look into people's eyes and listen to their hearts with my whole being. I am going to enjoy people.


A few years ago I heard a pastor say that he had never heard a person on their deathbed wish they had worked more. It was always a wish for more time with people.


I am going to make my wish come true this year.

LOVE this!

My New Mantra (seen on a sign in a Texas antique store):

DON'T BELIEVE EVERYTHING YOU THINK

Technical Difficulties!

Tell me again why we love technology? It took one whole week to get all our electronics to play nicely with each other . . . that and the costly services of a certified geek.

Favorite geek quote (when asked about his job): "You know, the question is always the same. But the answer is different for every machine that I put my hands on to fix."

Great.

An Ode to Andrew & Karen

"The real test of friendship is: can you literally do nothing with the other person?

Can you enjoy those moments of life that are utterly simple?" (Eugene Kennedy)

Our dear friends Andrew and Karen came to visit us last week. They are one of the best fringe benefits that came with Pete. The Rogers have packed us, moved us, unpacked us, organized us . . . and they work better than pitosin: I went into labor after dinner with them!

You won't find two more real, down-to-earth, wise people. The only thing they really leave Rationality Road for is their insane love of Pugs--and once you meet theirs, you sort of understand.

Poor Karen has gotten to know more of me than she ever wanted. She took me for my post-natal check-up (she was on vacation from work). I told her it wouldn't take more than an hour. During that hour-that-turned-into-three, she was mistaken for a woman who was there for a colonoscopy (We managed to convince the nurse it was the OTHER woman in the red coat that was there for the procedure; whew.), she had to change and care for Thad (he was two weeks old and she doesn't have children); and she had to practically carry me down to the car after I ended up having a D&C in the office (nice drugs--great for the pain, bad for making sense and walking on my own steam)!

So now you see why I LOVELOVELOVELOVELOVE the Rogers. LOVE.

By the time the Rogers showed up in Texas, we were probably 75% unpacked and moved in; I knew that once Karen stepped into the house, the rest would be taken care of in very. short. order.

And it was.

While they were here they unpacked the rest of the boxes (minus Pete's stuff);they rearranged furniture so our feng was more shui; set up my cozy office; shelved our books; and set up our Tivo. All of this and great fellowship, too. They are precious to me.

The quote above talks about the joy found in doing nothing together--and that's what we did for five very busy days. We just did a bunch of nothings that added up to a very big something: they helped us make a home here in Texas.

Whether we were moving bookshelves between rooms, installing dimmer switches, or watching Court-TV (well, Karen and I did), Andrew and Karen communicated that our friendship was still about "enjoying those moments of life that are utterly simple," whether in Seattle or Texas.

Thank you, Sweet Rogers. I will do nothing with you anytime.

Polly & (the late) Oliver Rogers (Gretel has joined the household, but I haven't received a Pug Announcement and picture yet.)

An Open Letter to Al Gore

Dear Mr. Gore:

While I am glad that you didn't win the election a few years ago, or at least you didn't win the court battle, I have not had anything against you personally. I think it is admirable that you and Tipper have been married so long and clearly are good friends. You have raised a family of adults who contribute to society in a positive manner.

And while I haven't watched your global warming movie, I think it is very likely that there is something to what you are saying . . . I mean, God created this planet as a dynamic system and I am sure that when we look back on this time in 100 years, we will see some sort of pattern.

However.

The few months prior to our moving from Seattle, Washington, the weather went from ghastly to downright nasty, freezing, and freaky. After we left, it only got worse.

I didn't let it get me down, though. We were moving to Texas and even without global warming, we were going to be warmer and enjoying copious amounts of sunshine.

However.

In the two months we have been here, I think we have seen eight days of sun. The rest of the time has been COLD, RAINY, DARKLY OVERCAST, and generally miserable, with temperatures topping out in the 30s.

(Not to mention that poor Upstate New York is digging out of an additional five feet of snow after the eight they received last week.) (And also your unfortunate timing last year in keeping a public speaking engagement on global warmining on the coldest day of the year. But I digress.)

Al, what I am about to show you is forecast again FOR THIS WEEK.

So what I wrote to ask, Al, is this: Can we have some of that global warming you've been traveling all over the world speaking and making movies about?

Yours very sincerely,

Kirsten M. Christianson

Why I Love Texas (so far)

1. Dickey's BBQ! Pulled pork. Lean smoked Ham. Fried okra. Pecan pie. Need I say more!


2. Genuinely friendly people! Our neighbors brought over homemade chocolate chip cookies!


3. Huge house with fenced backyard and two-car garage--and we can still eat and put a little in savings, too. Seattle is so yesterday.


4. SuperTarget, Home Depot, Best Buy, and two grocery stores are within five minutes in every direction. (Well, maybe 10 minutes.)


5. Chick-Fil-A (I'm having some waffle fries for you, Shannon!)


6. BIG sky!


7. We're in the Central Time Zone so I can watch Dave Letterman and still get a decent night's sleep! (And now that we have Tivo, it just got easier!)


8. The Southern Drawl . . . it's music to my ears!


9. God isn't a dirty word.


10. There are more churches than cows here . . .

Surely I will find a church that loves people and has a minister who preaches soul-inspiring, intellectually challenging, well-organized sermons--Yea!

I also hear that it gets hot down here (repeated conversation: "We just moved here." "How do you like it?" "We like it a lot!" "Wait til the summer."). However, since we moved here in mid-December, we have had two ice storms and seven days of sun. In between it has been cold, cloudy and often rainy.

Maybe Seattle isn't as yesterday as I had hoped . . .

Resolutions

My new year resolution (which I normally don't make at the new year but at Easter, instead) was that once Thad began preschool, I would write every day. I am trying to get into the habit of just writing without self-editing as I go along. I believe I have a call to write, but I am incredibly, horrifically, delightfully ambivalent about it.

So in the interest of dancing with my ambivalence: I write now. (Right now.)

So, we are in Plano, Texas! It is remarkably similar and vastly different to Seattle: the weather has been two ice storms, temps in the 20s and 30s, depressingly overcast, and R-A-I-N-Y.

I. Am. Not. Happy.

Differences? People are genuinely friendly and it goes beyond the first meeting. Our first few weeks in our new home our neighbors brought cookies and wrote down their names and numbers for us. The couple from whom I bought my new (to me) Honda CR-V met us at the airport with a fully-inspected and detailed vehicle, all the paperwork filled out and ready for signature, and a bag of Christmas goodies to welcome us to Texas!

My new baby . . . Isn't CallieRose-Vivienne beautiful?

This in contrast to my nightmare experience of selling my Honda in Seattle, which I will write about today or tomorrow and is guaranteed to put you into the aghast category!

We flew to Plano on 12/13 and spent nine days in an extended-stay hotel. We moved into our new (leased) home on 12/22 (the movers were early!!!). We are rattling around our large home--Thad loves riding his trike through the family room, the living room, the dining room, and the kitchen!

The three weeks between Pete's accepting the position in Plano and our actual move were fast, stressful, sad, and bittersweet.

We said goodbye to dear friends who had lived our stories with us, both as single people and then as DINKs and then as SIOKs!

Woodlawn Ave Friends

Pete & the Domainiacs

My BookBabes

I said goodbye to the best educational/transformational process I have ever had.


Generall, we laughed, we cried . . . it moved us, Bob. (VeggieTales)

We are finding our way in Plano. God has surely met us here. One of my classmates is here!

(Hi Kendall!)

We had friends gifted to us! Jachin and Amanda are sharing their Plano friends James, Amy, and Eliana with us!

This isn't actually James or Amy or Ellie; but it's the only picture of a James Wiebe I could find! (Thank you, Google Images!)

And let me introduce you to my new best friends whom I love enough to marry should Pete kick the bucket before me.

Who knew there could be such joy in laundry? I cannot say enough good things about my LG Friends. I feel so badly for anyone who doesn't have friends like these . . . ! Rhapsodize, rhapsodize, rhapsodize!

Thad started pre-school, just two days per week (there's only so much time I can give him up!). He goes to

This week was his first week and he was wonderful! He walked in with a little hesitation but no tears or clinging. (I, however, sobbed in the car both days.) His report cards were excellent!

Our Seattle friends Andrew and Karen came down this week to help us rearrange the house and install Tivo--they are great like that!

All in all, we are happily settled and grateful for a new start in an affordable land!

The words that have repeatedly crossed my mind this last month I now offer as a prayer back to the One who gave them to us:

and Amen.

Thanks for reading!

Kïrsten M. Christianson

I've Always Loved Yellow Roses . . .

Growing up, I don't think I had a lot of dreams. Fantasies, yes. Lord, I had FANTASIES: I was going to be the next Amy Grant. I would have a Southern accent. I had long, thick, curly hair. I was outrageously attractive and oh-so-slim. And I would do great things for God. Great! Things! For GOD!!

Still it has been an unconventional life so far. I have traveled all over the world, living on four of the six continents (or seven, depending on where you were schooled) (and I will get to Antartica and Asia before I am done!). I have lived in six states. I have been a waitress, a secretary, a real estate assistant, a book seller, a non-profit director, a counselor, a corn detasseler and a professional actor/singer. I've had two husbands and one son. I have good friends all over the globe from as far back as 35 years with whom I still connect. I have finished college and am close to finishing graduate school. I have been ecstatically happy and I have mourned deeply. I have taken many, many unexpected turns in my life and my life has been the better for those turns.

So I always keep an eye toward the bend in the road, knowing that God allows us so much freedom to create our lives with Him--writing a story that will allow us to enjoy and honor Him, others, and ourselves. In fact, after about five years in a place, I start to itch to move, to live a new adventure, and to meet more of God's incredible people.

Still. I never thought I would live in Texas. I know the Texan readers will find this hard to believe: It never occurred to me that I could or might live in Texas.

Yet the fact remains: in December, Pete, Thaddeus, and I will move to Texas! North Dallas, to be more precise. And once we get back from this "View Trip," I can be even more precise!

So I'm pulling on my boots. Bring on the yellow roses and I'll work on my drawl . . . y'all!

Nude Neighbors & Truth-Telling Sons

I called my friend a little while ago to tell her my Office Depot story. Her son answered the phone. Names have not been changed because he is an innocent!

"Hello?"
"Hey Stephen! How are you? What are you doing today?"
"Going to garden camp" (Sandy is Earth Mother Extraodinaire)
"Wow, that sounds fun! May I talk to your mom before you leave?"
"Well. I think I should talk to you for a while because my mom is naked."

Beat. Beat. Beat. Strangle laughter back.

"Do you want to hang up and then go to the the shower and tell her to call me when she is dressed?'
"Well, now she is naked in the bedroom."
"Oh . . . Well, do you want to just talk to me?"
"I don't know."
"Why don't you go ask her what she wants to do?"
"MOM! Kirsten is on the phone!"

Have I mentioned how grateful I am that Thad mostly babbles right now?

This is What Dreams Coming True Looks Like

My private practice office. Isn't it lovely? (Thanks to Vanessa for her exquisite decorator's expertise. I would have set up some beanbags and called it a day.)

Just When I Thought Life Couldn't Be Any Weirder . . .

I ordered some things from Office Depot through their website a few days ago. The items came and I was so excited: OFFICE SUPPLIES! ORGANIZATION! FUN THINGS FOR MY DESK!! (Side note: one of the most fun things I have been assigned to do in my life was take care of office supply inventory and supply at a law firm I worked for back in the day. The power I had has only been matched by the other responsibility given to me: Recycling Czarina! [A title I came up with myself; they just told me to manage the recycling program. Boring.])

Anyway, two of the items, totalling $30, didn't work out. I tried to return them to a OD store, but apparently if you buy something online you have to return it the same way.

SO.

I called the customer service number and told them my sad news: the letter trays were too wide for the slot (Don't ask why I didn't measure before. I was dazzled by shiny wire letter trays that would finally allow me to be organized!) He took the item numbers, told me he would credit my account for $30 and gave me a confirmation number.

Then, NO JOKE, he said, "Mrs. Christianson, you can just keep those items and dispose of them however you see fit. We have credited your account, we apologize for the inconvenience and hope you will shop with us again."

Maybe the blueberries in my cereal were fermented?

Did I hear him correctly or is his Indian accent playing with the hammer in my ear?!??

So I took another run at it: When will the items be picked up?

"As I said, Mrs. Christianson, we have credited your card and you are free to dispose of the times in whatever manner you wish. We are sorry for the inconvenience and hope you will shop with us again."

Unbelievingly, I said, "Okay."

Then I hung up and called back to ask another representative what I had misunderstood.

A lovely Indian woman explained to me that no, my blueberries were fresh; yes, my card had been credited; and no, it wasn't a scam. They have discretion to make the call when the items are not worth sending a truck out to pick up the return.

I think I may have found my calling: Reselling Office Depot items I "return."

Anybody want a buy some letter trays cheap?