Archive for the ‘Family’ Category

19 Oct

I Just Can’t Can’t

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Brokenness, Family, Inspiration. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , .

IMG_3962My mother-in-law, Elaine Marie Oslund Tinker, died on Wednesday, October 8 and I feel a bit like nothing is quite as it should be.

And yet, the rest of the world is moving on just fine. And I just can’t can’t right now. I have to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

I’ll be honest, I don’t even want to drag myself out of bed in the morning. (Or in the afternoon if I can get away with sleeping that long.)

But somehow I do keep getting out of bed, and I made bread one day, and I’ve built backyard fires two nights in a row, and I’ve had good conversations that aren’t just all about my grief, and I’m making plans for my future, and I’m starting negotiations for a new job…

And life is going on. My life is going on.

And that’s as it should be, but it doesn’t feel like it should be.

There’s part of me that wants to just stop. To just make everything stop.

And that part of me is dragging me down. And it’s making me not want to write.

I deliberately gave myself permission to not write when I was spending so much time caring for Elaine and when we were all caring for one another in the time after her death. Those were the days–or hours–that we all just took one at a time.

Writing, though integral to who I am and what I’m doing, writing just had to wait for the most part.

And even now I’m not entirely sure what to say about those days. And part of me feels like I can’t. But I just can’t can’t. I have to say something even if I don’t know what I’m saying.

And the “have to” is not some weird pressure I’m putting on myself. I promise. I would tell you if that was what it was.

The “have to” or the “can’t can’t” is this feeling deep down that I know, know, know there is more for me in life.

I said before that I felt like everything in my life prepared me for my ability to be present with Elaine as I did–I felt that same sense throughout even the worst of her illness and even in her dying.

And it would be so gratifying if I could kick back and say, “Ah, Lord, I see my work here is done.”

But God keeps nudging me, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

And as much as I felt like all my life prepared me for what I’ve just been through, I feel as though what I’ve just been through has prepared me for more, more, more.

And so, I just can’t can’t.

And so I press on.

30 Sep

Such a Time as This

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Family. Tagged: , , , , , , .

GoStay

My mother-in-law has been having serious health issues that have landed her in the hospital. I’ve come to Houston (where my in-laws live) to be part of my mother-in-law’s care team.

There’s nothing like caring for a sick mother-in-law to bring out the responsible adult in me.

I’ve always enjoyed visiting with my in-laws and I love them dearly.

But, at times, I have behaved, well, like a child, around them. I’m not proud of it, but I know I can be stubborn and rebellious when my elders try to offer guidance or correction.

Now though, with my mother-in-law’s condition being so serious, I am all in.

I can’t explain how exactly I am able to be so fully present as I am now, but I have this incredible peace about being here to help.

It is as if everything in my life up to this point has worked together to prepare me to be right here, right now. I’m sure that sounds strange. But looking back on so much I have lived through and learned I can see how those threads are woven together to clothe me for this time.

The timing alone is perfect. I’m between preaching gigs and between writing deadlines. I’ve relaxed a lot about my rigid online publishing schedule. I’ve done some important delegating. All of these factors allow me the freedom to be right where I am.

But on a deeper level, my spirit is prepared to be here.

I have felt a certain restlessness lately. I came to Texas somewhat reluctantly, then I grew to appreciate it–in large part because of the support my in-laws offered me. But as the time here wore on, I began to feel bound by being here. I didn’t know what to do with myself.

And that longing in my spirit, that longing for purpose, is fulfilled in this time.

Somehow, even my resistance to being bound is oddly sated by the fact that I am but itinerant here in Houston. I go back and forth from my in-laws’ house to the hospital with a couple of bags with just enough of my worldly possessions to get by with.

My sister-in-law joked the other day about me being a gypsy. I kind-of liked that.

I can leave any time I choose.

And yet, I choose to be here.

I wish I didn’t need the freedom to “opt out” as badly as I do. But it is that freedom to go that gives weight and meaning to my decision to stay.

And as much as I love my dear husband, I have always felt like I am lucky to have him and never quite was all that certain what exactly I had to offer him. I know my worth isn’t defined by a single act and there are probably more reasons than I can understand about why he loves me back.

Still, this experience of being here now, helping as I am…I think perhaps, at least in part, that I became a Tinker for such a time as this.

 

23 Aug

I Don’t Drink, Don’t Smoke…but Not Why You Think

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Brokenness, Family, Uncategorized. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , .

I’m not a big drinker and I’ve never tried so much as a puff of a cigarette. I haven’t said much about all this because what I have come to see is that my Position on drinking and smoking is less about Principle and more about Propensities.

To put it another way, I don’t drink much or smoke at all because I think if I did more of the one and even tried the other, well, I think I’d like it. Too much.

What I share here as to my reasons is very personal and not meant to point a finger at anyone else. For all I know, I’m the only person who’s had such little experience with substances yet craves them something fierce.

Somehow though, I keep feeling like it is something I need (want?) to share. And, you know, I’m on the internet now and my life is an open book anyway.

Over time I have had Good Reasons not to Do Substances. When I was underage, both were, of course, Illegal. As I dabbled in fundamentalist Christian thought, it was rather convenient to forego these substances because I was taught they were Sinful. And regardless of one’s age there are certainly Risks involved.

But those Reasons have faded over time. I’m old enough now that they are Legal, I no longer universally see their use as a Sin Issue, and I know plenty of people who are relatively Responsible about occasional enjoyment of these substances from time to time.

What remains for me personally a Stumbling Block about drinking and smoking though is the Addictive Nature of alcohol and tobacco because I sense in my body the very real and present possibility of Getting Hooked.

I have just enough sorrows that are just enough exacerbated by my stupid depression that I want to Drown Them All. Alcohol especially would be soooo easy…so easy.

My husband picked up a case of beer the other day and he put a few bottles in the fridge.

High Life?

Every time I so much as see the bottles there when I open the fridge, I feel a rush, a craving, a longing…a desire to Drown All The Everything. I want to grab a bottle and feel it course through me.

But I know me…and I know that times I’ve given into that a little, I’ve wanted to keep giving into it.

In this one area of my life, my tendency to Think Too Much has been a benefit to me. My self-awareness of how much I want to indulge has always nagged me enough to stop drinking before I’ve had too many and not even try smoking.

This part is delicate, so I want to tread lightly here, but I also have family history that stands as a warning sign to me. I know that these Propensities can run in families, so I have been especially Vigilant in my own life.

I don’t claim some moral high ground for my choices in these matters. If anything, I feel somehow weaker than others that I can’t just have one drink without Overthinking Every Sip.

But knowledge is power, and I do indeed know myself on this matter which is why I don’t drink and I don’t smoke.

18 Jul

Is it Inconceivable that I Still Have the Crib?

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Brokenness, Family. Tagged: , , , , , .

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Everyday as I move about my house I walk past crib parts. It has been many years since my one and only son (who is now 10) has slept on that mattress. But I haven’t been able to bring myself to give the crib away because I’m still holding onto hope that I might still have another baby.

You may be wondering why I walk past crib parts everyday.

Well, we don’t have a lot of storage in the old farmhouse where we live. So, we use our enclosed back porch to store what used to be in the garage or attic in our last home–including crib parts.

This porch also serves as a major thoroughfare in our home, so I end up walking past the crib parts many times a day.

Most of the time those crib parts fade into the background–the way things often do when you go past them everyday.

But sometimes a June bug will dive-bomb that way and call my attention to the crib parts. Or I might have to retrieve an item from that storage area and I’ll notice the crib parts idling there.

Even when I do notice them, I don’t always feel moved to write about them. But I noticed them today and it punctuated a lot of what has been on my mind lately.

With the Hobby Lobby verdict about contraception coverage becoming such an uproar, the idea of “conception” has been on my mind a lot.

As a differently-fertile American, I want to go on record as stating that I am pro-conception. My challenges in conceiving lead me to confusion–even lament–that contraception is considered “essential.”

I know, I know, family-planning is very personal and I’m not begrudging anyone the option of using contraceptives. All the same, having this issue in the center of public discourse has triggered a lot of feelings for me.

Added to that was the realization a couple weeks ago that it was 11 years ago this month that my son was conceived. I know the exact date of, um, the act that led to the conception because I was tracking everything fertility-related back then. As that “anniversary” came, my mood–my heart–sank.

Then, I was bummed when my “cycle” started last week. I started taking better care of myself and my cycles resumed last fall. So that made me think that maybe I might be able to have another baby.

So, I keep hoping that this will be the month my cycle doesn’t start on account of becoming pregnant!

Each time a new cycle starts it is a mix of good news and bad news.

It is good news that I am having regular cycles because when I wasn’t as healthy I wasn’t having my cycles.

But it is bad news because it means I’m not pregnant. Again.

So when I brushed up against the crib mattress today, I thought about the crib. And I thought about my ambivalence about having more kids.

I have thought many times about giving away the crib. I have slowly given away nearly everything baby-related over these 10 years of my son’s life.

But the crib is the single most expensive item and it was a gift from my mother, so I don’t take lightly the decision to give it away.

Several months ago I was ready—really ready—to find a new home for the crib.

I was sure I was done with babies. I was certain I was content with a family of three.

In fact, I was leaning toward thinking it would be better to not have any more kids.

I remember the first time I felt such certainty—such peace with the size of our family.

I shared this revelations with dear one who also faces fertility-challenges.

“I’ve been there,” she told me.

But I was confused because she still talked like she wanted more.

“No, I really mean it,” I assured her.

“I meant it too…then.”

“Oh, I’m really at peace with this. I’m sure I’m okay with a family of three.”

She tried to explain to me how she had gone from certainty to longing and back again more than once.

I thought to myself, “She can’t really have been certain.”

I’m sorry, dear friend. I’m so sorry I didn’t believe you—that I didn’t listen.

I couldn’t hear you then.

I had to protect my heart because if I really knew then that this longing would keep creeping up on me…well, I didn’t want to hear that. I couldn’t hear that. My heart couldn’t bear the thought of it.

And so, despite my “certainty,” I have held onto the crib. And in my longing I am glad—even when it is a painful reminder of how inconceivable another baby has been.

12 Jul

It’s All Right for Mommy to Cry

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Family. Tagged: , , , , , .

We went to see a family movie* in the theater on Monday. My son had already seen it with his grandparents when he visited them in Ohio, so he knew enough to warn me that I might cry.

He feels uncomfortable when I cry around him, but I’m trying to figure out how to let him know that it’s just part of who I am.

He was right, of course. I cried at a couple of different dramatic points in the first 2/3 of the film, and then could not keep my eyes dry for the last 1/3. It was a really good show.

I just cry sometimes. Not all the time. Just whenever my heart can’t hold my present emotions all at once.

It could be in a movie–yes, even an animated family film. It might be during church–although I’m equally as likely to laugh out loud there as I am to sob.

I sometimes let tears flow about frustrations in day-to-day life, work, or relationships.

I might break down understandably because of trauma–you know, like that time when the Wi-Fi router blew up? Other times I cry for what seems like no logical reason whatsoever.

It may not be every day. There may even be weeks at a time that go by without a good cry.

But these tears of mine just sometimes gush out as my heart bursts forth with whatever it can no longer contain.

MomCrying

But my son, he doesn’t like it one bit. He’d really rather I not do it.

At first I thought he was embarrassed by it. So I asked him.

“That’s not it, mommy,” he explained. “I just don’t like to see you upset.”

“So you’re worried about me?”

“Yeah.”

But for being worried about me he can be pretty obnoxious.

Sometimes he glares at me–he has even mastered the preemptive glare in which he tries to lock eyes with me if he even suspects I might cry as if to say, “Don’t even think about it.”

Other times, when he doesn’t notice until I am actually teary-eyed, he’ll nudge me with a “Hey, cut it out! I don’t want to see that!” jab.

Then there are times when he sees me crying while I’m talking to my husband about a problem and he’ll overhear a bit and want to be my little “fixer.” He’ll pop over and give me some seriously oversimplified solution to some really complex situation that’s weighing on me.

Most of the time, in one way or another, he’s essentially telling me it’s not okay, that I shouldn’t cry.

For that reason, my favorite response of his to my tears is when he sweetly brings me a stuffed animal, “for love comfort.” I like these times best of all because it gives me some hope that he’ll let it be what it is and not try to shut me down or fix me.

I know it’s a pretty sophisticated idea for a 10-year-old kid to take in–that’s okay that his mom cries sometimes. But I do hope he’ll come to terms with it.

Because it just is.

I think crying is like singing, writing, doodling, and speaking for me. It’s all related to the idea that I need to express what’s in me. It has to come out somehow. Even the very most important thoughts and feelings aren’t fully real to me if I don’t have some way to let them out.

And while I never want to burden my son with problems too big for his little ears and his little heart to deal with, there are just gonna be these times when I get a bit weepy. And I don’t need to be fixed or quieted, I need to pour out my heart.

He doesn’t have to watch.

But we’ll both get along better when he learns that it’s all right–probably even good–for mommy to cry.

 

*The movie we saw on Monday was How to Train Your Dragon 2

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