Tim Christenson's 2022 Christmas ltr

150 Granite Drive

Whitefish, MT?59937

[email protected]

December 2022

Dear Friends and Family,

Well, here it is. I started this letter early in November so I’d have it ready by now. These days, I have a hard time concentrating on a task; there are so many distractions: crossword puzzles, box scores, smart phone and watch beeps, Wordle, splash pages, Alexa’s questions, Possible Spam calls, a thumping dryer, snacks, a noise in the house, something moving in the yard…SQUIRREL!?It feels like my mind has too many tabs open.

We started the year on the road, flying to ABQ to celebrate our anniversary with daughter Margit&Itty and Rio, then to Glendora for New Year’s with daughter Erika&Kurt, Max, and Kaia. From there we drove up the California coast, overnighting in Santa Barbara and Monterey on our way to daughter Karin’s in San Francisco.

Glenda’s sister Sally&Richard joined us for some cross-country skiing in February, with Karin visiting for the same purpose a little later in the month. In between, we snuck down to PHX for a (warm weather) church conference. We tried not to travel much during the winter though, `cuz we were taking skiing lessons. (Glenda prefers Nordic, and I like downhill, but if you think about it, all skiing is really water skiing, right?)

In March, son John returned from his deployment to the Gulf with the Marines and came for a visit. At month’s end, Kaia arrived for spring break, accompanied by Ester, her Italian foreign exchange sister. They headed back to LA with pictures of themselves on horseback wearing cowboy hats, sort of a home movie spaghetti Western.

In April, my birthday rolled around, unbidden. It's weird to be pushing 70—the same age as old people. Guess I thought growing old would take longer. The silver lining to this cloud was that I got 68% off the cost of a big steak dinner at a local restaurant. My normal menu choices come from Glenda’s healthful, plant-based recipe box. Fine, but every time I eat a salad it's like, "OK, this better improve my life."

In May we flew back to ABQ to stay with Rio while Margit&Itty took a Costa Rican vacation. It felt weird to be responsible for a kindergartener again, but with guidance from Rio and Jojo (the dog), we managed to pull it off without too many hiccups.

In June we flew east to see son Mark&Stephanie (and a Much Ado About Nothing production) in Baltimore before flying to Berlin to lead a bus-full of Lutherans (including Erika) to Luther sites in eastern Germany. After seeing his birthplace, monastery, pulpit, prison, and where he was born, baptized, became a monk, got married, debated, nailed 95 theses, and died, we headed into the Alps to see Oberammergau’s Passion Play, which was pushed back from 2020 due to COVID. Then on to Innsbruck and a couple days in Venice before flying home.

Home again, we got ready for our family reunion in late July. Max arrived first, in time for both an afternoon on horseback and the chance to help throw a truckload of hay bales up into our neighbor’s barn loft: “He’s been ridin’ trail and buckin’ bales.” When the rest of the family arrived, we split `em up between our house and a rental place near Whitefish Lake, with a full round of activities: swimming (pool and lake), kayaking, fishing, horseback riding, hiking, rodeo, baseball, picnicking, play going, dining out, and melting s’mores. It was fun having three generations running around, but it was strange to sometimes open my mouth and have my father come out.

In September, we finally got to take the Italian sailing trip that was scheduled for 2020. We spent the first week with six friends, sailing among the islands off the north coast of Sardinia and across the strait to Corsica, France. The second week had the same itinerary, but a family crew: Mark&Stephanie; daughter Grete, Trygve; John; and newly-wed nephew Jason&Mackenzie. When we got a propeller tangled in a mooring line, I sent the boys and Stephanie over the side with a knife to take turns diving down to hack away at it—the undersea adventure portion of the trip, not counting a couple scuba dives. My trip highlight came as we walked down the steep cobblestone path from the clifftop town of Bonifacio in Corsica. We came upon a street musician playing her clarinet, and just as we were about to pass her, she began the introduction to her next piece, which I recognized at once! Acting decisively, I came in right on cue: “Wise men say, ‘Only fools rush in.’ But I can’t help falling in love with you.” The clarinet pitched it right in my range, the stone parapets echoed like a shower stall, and Glenda was there to be my muse. People stopped to gawk; strangers began to video us. I daily expect to hear that a search is underway for the mysterious next-Elvis whose romantic serenade has gone viral. At week’s end, we flew back to Geneva with Grete and Trygve so we could see son-in-law Andy, Glen, and Adrian too.

Even when we’re not traveling somewhere or hosting guests, we keep busy here in Montana. Glenda’s out for at least one hiking/snowshoeing trek most weeks with her hard-core women’s hiking group. It gives them a chance to escape the rest of us: “Ew! Whitefish is getting too people-y!” (Bumper sticker: “Welcome to Montana. Please locate the nearest exit.”) I did join them when the husbands were invited for hikes (I gave up jogging for moral reasons[1]) in Yellowstone Park and my old stomping grounds: Many Glacier Hotel, on the other side of the continental divide. We also drove up into Canada with friends from Virginia days and hiked around Banff, Jasper, and Lake Louise for a week. Communing with Nature was all fine, but for me, Whitefish’s bustle is a plus. In addition to my church work, I have book clubs, a Western history chorale corral, Bible studies, plays, concerts, ministerial organizations, weightlifting and yoga classes, monthly sibling Zooms, on-line Shakespeare courses (These years aren’t flying by; they’re Zooming.), on-call hospital chaplaincy, singing bass in the Glacier Symphony & Corral Chorale (Mozart’s Requiem, Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, and Handel’s Messiah this year), and the occasional wedding or funeral to keep me busy. We got to Libby for Glenda’s 50th high school reunion (at the Red Dog Saloon, which she had never previously patronized), and I drove down to Billings for some church meetings. In August, I put on my Stetson, saddled a horse, and rode back into The Bob Marshall Wilderness again for a week with a few friends. I finally learned to tether my horse with the handy Bank Robber’s Knot, but it’s still clear to any real Montanan that I’m “all hat and no cattle.” All this can be a bit tiring so, since I’m still sticking with tee-totaling, Happy Hour is now my nap time. I’m not lazy; I’m just resting before I get tired. Thus fortified, I can sometimes burn the midnight oil—until nine o’clock.

Yikes, I better get this sent out. Sometimes Christmas seems more like a deadline than a holiday, but this gift-giving holiday is a great time to remember the gift that you are to us. We pray that you’ll find plenty for which to give thanks as you look back over your year and ahead to the next one.

All the best,?????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????Tim & Glenda?

[1] Proverbs 28:1 The wicked run when no one is chasing them.