Tuesday, November 26, 2013

2013 Stenstrom Christmas Letter

Several weeks ago, I gave Cali a banana, a piece of toast, an orange, and milk for breakfast.  She devoured it all and unleashed an ear-stabbing scream.  I walked her around the kitchen, trying to figure out what she wanted.  After several minutes of shrieking and stomping around, she pointed to another banana hanging above our counter.  I wouldn’t give it to her.  If she ate one more thing she’d barf and I was already running late.  I loaded Cali up in the car and drove her to daycare, with her yelling in the back the whole way.  Once she arrived at daycare, Cali began playing with the other kids and I snuck away to work.  That afternoon, when Cali and I got home from daycare, she marched straight into the kitchen and pointed at the banana.  She had been thinking about that darn produce all day!  Cali knew what she wanted and wasn’t going to wait another minute.
Watching Cali figure out what she can do (and what she is still too small to do) has been an entertaining, funny, sometimes frustrating spectacle.  

Other memorable highlights of this year include:
----Kevin’s brother AND sister got married this year, so we had a good time at both celebrations. Keep getting married people! I dread the day when we won’t have weddings to go to anymore. We love reconnecting with friends/family and dancing late into the night.
----I led a group of youth and adults to Rainy Lake, Minnesota to spend a week on houseboats in July. I highly recommend this type of get-away: swimming, fishing, canoeing, campfires, sleeping on a boat roof under the stars…
----Kevin completed his first year as an apprentice electrician, working first at Stax Electric and now Main Electric and taking classes through the JATC. He is on his second year, working toward a Journeyman Electrician’s license. In his spare time (the little of it), Kevin helps lead music with elementary-age children at Zion, serves on the Zion Church Council, helps lead the worship band, and continues to play guitar and sing on his own. He got a cajon (box drum) this year and plans to learn the banjo, too.
----Kevin, Cali, and I spent the last weekend in June with friends at Long Lake. Kevin and I walked across the road to Camp Metigoshe, where we attended the Century III donor banquet for the first time as guests. It felt so weird to not be the ones serving the meal.
----We are avid fans (but always a season behind) of Sons of Anarchy and The Walking Dead. I watch Glee when Kevin isn’t home (and fast forward to the songs) and he watches Archer when I allow him to.
----Our close friends, the Homs and the Pancoasts, moved this Fall. This was difficult, but showed us that we still had a strong network of friends in Minot.
----In May 2013, I was hired on full-time at Zion Lutheran Church—thus ending my employment with Metigoshe Ministries. The transition was so bittersweet. Outdoor ministry is a deep passion of both Kevin and I, and has been the larger context of our lives for the past 7 years. I’ve trained and equipped counseling and program staff for 4 of those years and just don’t think the staff will be ever be the same again….Just kidding, sort of. Camp goes on. Incredible leaders step up to the plate. And the ministry continues to thrive and create a “home” for hundreds of people. I am so honored to have been an integral part of this amazing ministry for so long.
----Cali turned 1 on July 2nd, ate a bunch of cake, and passed out on the living room floor. She can now say a few words (“all done, down, snow, baby, dada, mama, no”), do some sign language, walk like a zombie, shake her bootie, climb onto the coffee table, and blow spit bubbles. Her favorite things are: bananas, dolls, bathtime, books, washcloths, and the TV show Kipper the Dog.

Beyond the above, we’ve immersed ourselves in the little joys this year—the moments that don’t sound so exciting to readers. Instead of cruises or graduations, we’ve been watching Finding Nemo and playing Settler’s of Catan.  When we return home from traveling, instead of my sister and I texting each other things like, “Wow, skiing that black diamond was a thrill!”, we say things like, “Are you missing a purple sock?”

We delight in the simple, like finally getting to rent (AND watch) The Great Gatsby or reading Brown Bear, Brown Bear for the 568th time with Cali or having “pillow talk” (late night “How was your day?” conversations) with Kevin. I love mornings with Cali, watching her struggle to put on socks or brush her teeth, and her happy face peeking up over the edge of the crib when I go in her room to wake her up. I love random conversations with teenagers at youth group: what “anti-joke” is funniest, who the best character on the Avengers is, and how do we know God exists?

About a year ago, one of my youth said, “Youth group is the only place and time that I can really be myself”. With that one line, I felt like all I had done in the last 3 years was worth it. Check! Goal met. This person had a profound sense of belonging and purpose in the Zion church community.  And it’s that strong bond that makes the 2nd half of this letter so hard.

After much praying, talking to mentors and family, being turned down for other job openings, praying some more, and thinking until our heads hurt, Kevin and I accepted an offer from Concordia College for me to be the Alumni Services Coordinator for their Alumni Relations department. The application process was quite extensive with several interviews and stages of narrowing down candidates. I am thrilled to have been chosen to do communications and event coordinating for the Advancement Center at Concordia. What’s more, Kevin can transfer to Fargo and maintain his status and employment as an apprentice electrician.

Our main reasons for moving are: We live far from family. It wasn’t a big deal when it was just the two of us and we could throw one bag in the car, sleep at a rest stop, or drive at crazy hours of the night. Turns out a steady routine and a van-load of supplies are crucial in maintaining toddler contentment.  Also, we won’t be able to afford a house in Minot within the timeframe that we want it most—to raise more kids in. In fact, rental costs are even more outrageous. And, when we have another child (as we hope to in the near future), my schedule of late nights and weekends with youth will be difficult to maintain with a growing family. Some are cut out for it. I am not.

At first, I felt awful leaving our congregation in the midst of strategic planning and when my work of the last few years is producing results.  But, I realized that this is the best time to depart—when things are going well and the ministry is capable of continuing without the leader.  Because real ministry (the kind that makes a difference in people’s lives) does not depend on several individuals but on the community that takes ownership of it. We do, though, especially lament Kevin’s departure from music ministry at Zion. Playing with the band gives him utter joy and fulfillment.  He will find a new place to share his gift of music, but the Zion Band has become family.  Kevin and I plan to immediately immerse ourselves in youth activities at a church in Fargo or Moorhead, where we can continue to build positive relationships and be supportive mentors to teenagers.

It is scary to leave our incredible community at Zion. We LOVE the families that we’ve met and gotten to know and LOVE that Cali is valued and taken care of by them. She has been somewhat of a church mascot and we have been well-supported as new parents. We are able to go only with the assured belief that you meet amazing people wherever you go.

It seemed like a long wait until we got the job news. A wait that fit irritatingly perfectly into the season of Advent, as we await the birth of Christ and his saving grace. While people around me rushed to buy gifts, I felt weird (partly because I’ve never really gotten into the Christmas gift-giving hullabaloo) and like I was standing still, wondering in which direction to take a step. I trust God to guide me and know He promises to be near, especially in times of waiting (Proverbs 3:5-6, Psalm 33:20-22).  But, He could be a little blunter on highlighting the right path.  We know what we want and don’t understand why we have to wait.  Just when we think we’re settled, we get impatient for a new challenge. We wait, we ask, we play, we laugh, we doubt, we wonder, and we love fiercely. In the midst of routine stress, we cling ever tighter to the people around us. Thank you for being a blessing to us this year and always.
Merry Christmas,
Kayla, Kevin, and Cali Stenstrom

Thursday, March 10, 2011

O


Oh to be walking along the Thames River in Oxford again...

Sunday, March 6, 2011

A Milestone Forgotten

I can't remember my first kiss.
I recall the rest: full-face slober, passionate--romantic, boring--monotonous, confusing, exciting...awkward.
Either bliss or fish lips.

I remember the first time I tied my shoes, drove a car, flew a kite, got detention, ate grilled cheese.
But that kiss?

My head's full of firsts.
Truths and Dares. Life's slumber party confessions.
Why not this?

I want the golden memory, to reflect back on in humor (or horror)?
I know who. My age. The year.
He wasn't horrifying.

So what's the where? The moment?
Dismissed.

Tuesday, January 4, 2011

Confession of an Extrovert

It's been a long time since I've written. Too long, for someone who cares so much about writing.
Today, I'd like to discuss the qualities of an extrovert.
Because I am one.
And so is my husband.

Extroverts talk until they're blue (or red) in the face, but say little.
If it isn't spoken, it doesn't exist. If we don't discuss, we can't solve.
And by the time we get to our thesis, our comrade is lost amidst the ideas, which spew out, not according to any outline, but based on rapid misfirings of an overly distraught brain.
You know what I'm trying to say, though, right?

Perhaps extroverts are flamboyant introverts, who hide their truths not behind masked faces, but underneath layers of discourse.
We seem outgoing, but we're just good at saying what people want to hear.
Or saying enough to keep them distracted.

Wednesday, December 2, 2009

Barely Illegal

for Bruce

I.

They tripped to the river
in two’s, three’s, five’s
Never alone on a summer day.

Wanting to be dangerous, risky, inventive
crossing boundaries to feel alive
With white shirts worn for stains and memories.

The water didn’t rush or plummet, offer a challenge
some guidelines make no sense until they’re broken
While old teenagers tight-walk the cement dam.

Feet wet, toes cut, heels hard with incident
matching up with no intention of romance
A cluster of kids walking a path not allowed for grown-ups.

All sun, smiles, fish, and friendship
not programmed for real law-breaking
A video camera present to mark the debut.

II.

It became “our thing”
grasping illegal labels
Feeling tough, or just bored.

The 1986 Honda Accord with pop-up lights,
a hatch-back trunk for firework gazing,
And indestructible bumpers.

Man, it wouldn’t die
treating cliffs like a springy mattress
Taunting us with its screaming, resilient transmission.

The ’82 Oldboatsmobile second strongest
wobbling over the pavement
Like the jet ski we beat our bodies with.

III.

Speeding, seemingly drunk,
chucking illegally burned CD’s,
And dancing on the dashboard.

Stuffing heads out the window and food in our mouths,
soberly crazy on the blacktop
Giddy with no plans.

One accelerates, leans back, brakes
eyes closed while the comrade steers
Shouting directions over the hip-hop and country.

IV.

Never sleeping before three, never waking before noon
the first one up barges in and starts breakfast
Showering at the other’s house to make the day interesting.

Dying hair, cooking junk, and instant messaging
pounding music against the walls
Dancing in skimpy clothes and trendy shoes.

Making fun of moms and our own sexuality
only doing chores together and when ordered
Often huddled in the dark basement with a movie on a sunny afternoon.

V.

There as two, you and me
june through august
Being lazy criminals.

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Trick! No Treat!

Piles of perfect pretty boxes, holding hoards of gleaming gifts, beneath clumps of shiny wrapping paper, amongst loads of fattening food, eaten by long-lost witty relatives, beside off-key choral enthusiasts. Oh, and Jesus’ birth, of course! This, dear friend, is Christmas in all its, perhaps unintended, glory. It can hardly be compared to insincere construction paper V-cards stuffed into animal-shaped boxes (although that was fun, huh?) and eerie cemetery visits on Memorial Day, or is it Veterans’ Day? Christmas holds first place simply 'cuz it's Christmas, just as my Minnesota residence and job proximity to the Metrodome ensure my status as a Viking fan.

But Halloween. Yep. That’s where it’s at. I love Halloween! It’s the only day it’s acceptable to be someone you hate, just for the opportunity to imitate annoying habits. Well, I guess you could do that whenever you want. (Think of Jim dressed as Dwight).

Halloween--what a weird, twisted tradition. Who figured out that it’s easier to scrape a pumpkin than a watermelon? And who’s Jack? (I get the lantern part). Probably whoever convinced society that one day of the year should be solely devoted to harassing one’s neighbors. When I open the door to a stranger in outrageous apparel, shouldn’t I be concerned that his pillowcase is laced with chloroform and will be used to suffocate me at my own front door? Can I just start tear-gassing all the little chilluns? We always think the blonde cheerleader is stupid for opening her door and asking “Is anyone there?” just before she gets her limbs chopped off, but then we fling open our doors to all sorts of crazies. We must give candy at no charge or hide inside with the lights off so we aren't considered a-holes. “Quick! Close the blinds, I see another Tinker Bell and we’re out of Dots!” “How about toiletries or clothing? Nope. You want candy?” What would you do if I asked for the trick instead? When Halloween began was it “Give me some sugar or I’ll go grab the rotten eggs from my trunk”? Or a child shouts “Trick or Treat!” while his dad hides behind the oak tree flossing his teeth with a butcher knife. You never know…so you better just hand over the Skittles.

Oh fellow women! We fight for our equal rights and wonder why men picture us in fairy wings and a thong. Nowadays, All Hallows Eve is for confidently being a hooker and for guys to look at hookers. I went to buy a mask last week and all I could find was lingerie! Although, I do enjoy that one can wear underwear over his clothes and it’s perfectly kosher. Hehe.
We’re afraid of death, so we mock it; and we don’t understand the opposite sex so we dress up to confront our gender curiosities. Perhaps you’ll drink so much that you think you're a man, or, in fact, Tinkerbell. “Sure, you’re a Grim Reaper. What ever you say.” Tomorrow morning you feel like a poop stick. What’s a poop stick?
Wait until next year and I might be one for Halloween.

And what’s the deal with lime green masks that have hot pink horns, yellow fuzzy hair, and pencils protruding from the skull? If it doesn’t look realistic, it’s not that scary. It just makes people confused and certain you are, indeed, masked. How about a Scott Stapp mask? Now that’s scary! (Why didn’t I see anyone dressed as Michael Jackson this year? Where’s the love?)

Personally, my favorite part of Halloween is getting the chance to scope out the neighbors’ houses. I love when all the lights are on at night and I get interior design ideas from the rich couples. Wouldn’t Trick or Treating be a great way to plan a break-in? If you don’t get a good look, you still get some chocolate. Win-win for making the effort.

Ooo. I lied. Haunted Houses are my fave. I love being intentionally scared, which makes no sense whatsoever. “Do you have a hobby?” “Oh yes! Being chased around a corn maze by a chain saw!”

Yep. Uh-huh. Halloween is messed up. It’s justifiable considered Satanic alongside Christmas. But really, we just want to play house and dress up like the good ol' days. Have so much candy we get sick, threaten the old skeezer next door, try some foreign substances, and see which neighbor is a stingy miser. Oh, and have an excuse to wear our bloomers in public! Woo-hoo! Of course, it’ll start snowing the day of, so you better just dress as a gorilla.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

King Dork

I'm currently reading "King Dork" by Frank Portman. It is utterly hilarious. It tops my list of favorite sarcastic, cynical, unbelievably funny texts, making it beat Colbert's stint at magazine editing slip into close second. To give you an idea of how wonderfully humorous this book is, let me just say that the author's picture is a black and white shot of him with a robot woman; and reviews of the novel note it as a " piercingly satirical and acidly witty" "occasionally raunchy and refreshingly clear [account of] what it's like to be in high school." Full of "realistic, self-aware teen angst" and "sharp/offbeat humor." Good stuff.

In the novel, the main character is continually coming up with new names for his semi-imaginary band--some of which are: Baby Batter, Helmet Boy, and We Have Eaten All the Cake. In light of Portman's genius and as a tribute to all lonely and misunderstood dorks, I have decided to begin my own list of potential band names (that I will never use):

Cupcakes in Soho
Acid-Free (double meaning)
The Muffin Tops
Metal Tea Party
Miley Cyrus' Best Friend's Neighbor
The Sparkly Chemist
Dampit and the Curvy F-holes
The Radiator Queens
The College Graduates
Tambourine Euphoria
Watch This
Muppets on Strike
Maid of Dishonor
The Yeowoman
Inknote
The Oxford Man
The Talented Mailmen
Discord
Broken Kneecap
Antifreeze Weekend
The Baby Blue Nuggets