Posts Tagged ‘Family’

(Another) One Fallen Too Soon

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Last week my cousin died. Her name was Melissa Zygadlo Thomas. She was 40 years old and leaves behind a dear husband and two young children.

Cancer.

Damn cancer.

I was glad I got to return home to Ohio to be at Melissa’s funeral. It was good to be there, to be with the family.

This was the first death in my generation on my dad’s side of the family. My cousins Michael and Phillip, who both died in their twenties, were on my mom’s side of the family.

So it was important to be there with and for my dad and brother and the others.

“It’s good to see you,” everyone always says at funerals, and we mean it more dearly than ever for the present loss magnifies how precious we are to one another, “but I wish it was under different circumstances,” we are always quick to add.

Different circumstances…I wish the circumstances were different–that our restoration to one another was not at Melissa’s expense.

I hate death.

I feel no need to cancel out or console this hatred of death. My grief will not be undone by some supposed higher consciousness of “death as part of life.” No, there is weeping and gnashing of teeth–real, and raw, and painful–because death is the end of life as we know it. And life as we (I) know it is all I know in any tangible way.

Oh, yes, there is the here-after, there is the resurrection of the dead, and there are all of the great promises of something else, more, better in the time to come. These promises run through the scriptures I cling to, the faith I hold dear. Yet these promises are of little consolation in the actual here-and-now of living this life as we know it without Melissa as we knew her…or Elaine as we knew her…or Phillip as we knew him…or Michael as we knew him…or grandparents and great-grandparents and Amos & Opal as we knew them…

I think I feel this inconsolable sense of loss–this hatred of death–most keenly with these cousins of mine–Melissa, Phillip, and Michael–because they died so young. I think of these as untimely deaths.

But, truth be told, I wasn’t ready for any of them. The world doesn’t make sense anymore since Elaine died and she was in her 80s–not so very young, but still she is gone too soon.

And Opal…I have not written nearly enough about Opal…her passing was far, far too soon.

Opal too died of cancer.

Damn cancer.

I still hate that Opal is gone from this life as I know it…that loss was decades ago…but even all these years later, there is still an Opal-shaped hole in my heart, my life.

Opal and her husband, Amos, were like grandparents to me in a time when my grandparents and great-grandparents had either passed away already or lived too far away. I could ride my bike to Opal & Amos’s house…my brother and I would go there and play checkers with Opal and drink Coca-Cola, poured from glass bottles into Tupperware tumblers–nearly as tall as the bottles themselves–which we first filled with crushed ice from the mystical phenomenon of a freezer with an external ice-dispenser!

And I don’t remember stories about Opal so much as just the unconditional love that radiated from her. My heart knows who she was to me and that memory of her is so deeply a part of me. But I don’t know if I can ever, ever capture her importance in words.

This is the hole that death leaves. Ones so dear, yet nothing we can say or recall–even if we had kept detailed journals of their lives as we knew them–nothing can resubstantiate who and what they were.

I’m still in my mind and in my heart pondering the stories I want to tell about Melissa. If I’m counting right, she was closest to me in age of all my cousins (on both sides of my family)–Melissa was closer to me in age than even my own brother who is only two years older than I am.

There were “girly” toys we played with together–things my brother turned his nose up at. There were chats about school, and boys, and make-up. There was this extended family that we shared that we tried together to make sense of.

When we were both grown and had become mothers, we had a few occasions to talk about parenting. I admired how at-ease Melissa was in her role as a mother. With my son a few years older than her firstborn, I was still trying to recalibrate life as a mom, but she was a natural. She told me once that she didn’t see much use for a lot of parenting books, but that she would just trust her instincts. But oh, how I myself had poured over so many books!

Yet, Melissa’s instincts and all of who she was as we knew her are laid to rest.

And even as I try to remember what I need to remember about her, the memory of her is all there is.

I know there is something else, more, better for Melissa, Elaine, Michael, Phillip, Opal…

As the appointed leader of a congregation, I have had occasion to conduct two funeral services for members of the church where I’m serving. And in these times, it is my job to point the people to the life that really is life that is promised to us in Christ Jesus. And I believe it full well. It’s just that I’m not afraid of the hope and grief commingling–neither diminishes the other.

Hope isn’t some salve we put on our grief to make it go away. True hope in the God of the universe doesn’t fill in the grief-shaped hole. The hole remains. Hope doesn’t need to fill in the hole in order to function.

And the hole has plenty of its own work to do and is not at all interested in swallowing hope.

Really, if anything, the hole–holding that loved-one-shaped place in our hearts–can be for us a well, reflecting back to us the glimmer of light and life and love of the one we’ve lost.

I just wish it were under different circumstances.

Still, it is something–even if not tangible.

And even cancer and death cannot take away the glimmer–even if our words fail us to do justice to the life of the ones we have lost–the glimmer of their memory is as real as breathing.

Oddly, it is in hating death–in feeling it so hard and true and real and deep–in despising death I can begin to love life harder and truer and realer and deeper.

I hate death because it takes what is precious–life–the lives of those we love.

I despise these circumstances because I love life.

And if life is worth loving, and worth living, if lives are worth remembering (and they are!) it is because the Author of Life–the Creator of all things in heaven and earth has made life good.

And the Author of Life knows every story that I’m forgetting–and even those I never knew–about Melissa, and Opal, and Elaine, and Phillip, and Michael.

I may not have Melissa’s motherly instincts in which to trust, but I do trust in God–my God, the Lord of Life. And my hope in the Lord of Life abides alongside my grief.

I trust that Jesus is greater than anything we can experience in our living, in our loving, or even in our losing and dying. It is as Jesus promises, “In this world you will have trouble. But take heart! I have overcome the world.” (John 16:33)

Oh God, into your hands I commit life as I knew it, life as I know it now, and life as I can’t imagine in the yet-to-come. Into your hands I commend the lives of those I have loved and lost too soon.

You Can’t Kid a Kidder | Remembering My Mother-in-Law

 

Artwork by Jennifer Clark Tinker

Artwork by Jennifer Clark Tinker

One of the most surprising attributes of my Mother-in-Law, Elaine was her sense of humor. Part of why it surprised me was because before I got married I bought into a lot of the bad press that mothers-in-law get. But mostly why it surprised me was because she was kind-of stealth with her humor.

Here’s the thing, I’m a funny person. Hilarious really. And I love to give people a hard time. You can tell you’ve gotten in good with me if I start joking around with you.

So, you would think I would recognize it when someone else is joking with me, right?

Well, not with Elaine.

She was kind and gracious, yet she was very serious a great deal of the time. I mean, there were always meals to plan and grocery trips to orchestrate and chores she needed us to do around the house. We spent a good deal of time around the kitchen table planning our days together–all very serious and important planning.

So, every once in a while I would try to introduce a little levity into the seriously important planning. I might joke about serving a food my mother-in-law didn’t like, or I’d suggest adding something ridiculous to the grocery list.

Then, without breaking her serious demeanor, Elaine would respond. Her responses sounded like she took me seriously.

I would clarify, “You know I’m just messing with you, right?”

“I know,” she would grin, “I was messing with you back.”

And just like that she would get me every time!

She was so serious, you see. But that was all part of the craft of her stealthy humor. She would play along as if she missed my joke, all the while plotting to turn the joke on me.

They say you can’t kid a kidder. And maybe that’s my problem. I try so hard to be the funny one that I miss other people setting me up!

I miss laughing with Elaine, joking with one another, and sharing the hilarities of life with each other. She defied the stereotypes and became someone with whom I could enjoy spending time.

Maybe you can’t kid a kidder…but that never stopped Elaine from trying, and it turns out, she still has me laughing about it all!

A Surprising Find on Thanksgiving

A few weeks ago I made the disappointing discovery that I had lost my Deaconess pin (again). And I shared that story here on the blog.

I wrote about how I was getting down on myself about losing something so important, but then it occurred to me that I lost it because I was wearing it a lot. And I was wearing it a lot as I cared for my mother-in-law, Elaine, in the time leading up to her death. And I was wearing it a lot as I worked in Elaine’s kitchen, cooking for the family in the days surrounding Elaine’s death.

So I came to terms with having lost it because those were good, important times to be involved in serving and such.

And I really had let go of the need to berate myself for losing my pin.

But the fact still remained that I did not have my Deaconess pin. And that was still an issue for me, because it still is an important signifier of my ministry.

And then I started this new job as the interim minister of a church near where I live. And I really felt odd not having my Deaconess pin on at this new gig. This is the first ongoing job I’ve had in a very long time, and I preach there every Sunday and they call me Deaconess there and everything. So, to not have my pin on was just not right.

I had almost made up my mind that I was going to call up the Lutheran Deaconess Association (LDA) and order a new pin–if you’re counting, that would have been my fourth pin. But I still held out hope that I might find my pin somewhere. I kept checking and rechecking any place I might have left it.

Even Wednesday night as I was packing my tote bags to come for Thanksgiving at my father-in-law’s house in Houston, I rechecked the side pockets of the bags. But the pin still wasn’t in those same crazy pockets I had checked a bazillion times before.

And when I got to the guest room where we sleep at my father-in-law’s house, I looked once more on and around the desk and bed just in case I had missed the pin there before. But it still was not there.

It wasn’t anywhere obvious. I didn’t give it a whole really lot of thought. And it was late, and I was tired, so I put it out of my mind and went to bed.

By Thanksgiving morning, I had entirely forgotten about the pin. There was work to be done because I was the chief cook for Thanksgiving dinner for 24 people. And that alone is enough to think about. But this was at my in-law’s place…in Elaine’s kitchen…without Elaine.

And I tried not to think too much about this being the first Thanksgiving without Elaine. Because there was work to be done.

So I was just focusing on what needed to be done. Turkey was roasting and other prep was underway. I was in the zone.

I had chopped up all the celery and onions for the dressing, and I needed to get a pan to sauté them in. I knew exactly which one I wanted–the giant, enameled, cast-iron skillet. Of all of the utensils in Elaine’s kitchen, this one is by far my favorite.

It’s a heavy pan, and it’s a bit hard to get to as it is nested under a stack of other heavy pans, each layer carefully separated by protective layers of paper toweling. I could explain to you the intricacies of how everything is stored in Elaine’s kitchen, but the main thing you need to know is that it is really a pain to get this pan out of there. But it is my precious as pans go, so I am always willing to do the acrobatics needed to get it out.

And as I made the final contortions to pull the prized pan out of its place and prepared to remove the paper towels from inside it…there, on top of the paper towels, inside my favorite pan was my Deaconess pin.

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There’s my Deaconess pin–right where I left it apparently–inside my favorite pan in Elaine’s kitchen!

 

It made total sense that it was there. Because that is my favorite pan. And I was the last one to have used it. And I was the one who put it away–partly because I was the one who got it out, but mostly because it’s even harder to put away than it is to get out. It must’ve fallen off while I was putting the pan away, landing so softly on those paper towels that I didn’t even realize it had fallen there.

Finding it then–on the first Thanksgiving without Elaine, and there–inside my favorite pan in Elaine’s kitchen, finding it like that was the perfect encouragement. And I wept. And then I put my pin on and cooked.

It’s not like the pin gives me super powers, but symbols do have meaning. And that pin helps me remember who I am, whose I am, and what I’m about. I know those things even without the pin, but sometimes when life and ministry and kitchens get overwhelming, I forget to remember.

But there is so much work to be done in life and ministry and kitchens that I want to be sure to remember my identity as a servant, my belonging to a gracious God, and my purpose to share love and hope and joy in all I do and say.

Now, I don’t have to call the LDA and order a fourth pin after all! And I can wear it the very next time I preach! And each time I look at it, I will always think of Elaine. And I will have this story to tell about the surprise of finding my Deaconess pin inside that favored pan on Thanksgiving 2014.

Want to Simplify this Christmas?

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The pressure is on to find the right gifts for everyone on your list, to prepare the perfect holiday meal, and to make it to every party. With all the obligations of the season though, can anyone remember what Christmas is all about? Something about a baby—Oh no! I forgot to put the Smith family’s new baby on my shopping list!

Oftentimes we lament the consumerism of the season, but we can’t quite seem to back our sleigh ride away from that slippery slope. Over the years I’ve dabbled with various ideas of simplifying my celebrations to focus on what is most important to me: faith, family, and friends.

In my latest post at Life & Liberty Online Magazine, I wrote a sampling of ideas to help you be more deliberate about how you spend your time and money this holiday season. You can read the full text of the article over there, but here is the basic list broken down by three categories, gift-giving, cooking, and celebrations…

 

Put Joy (Back) Into Gift-Giving

  1. Shorten the gift-giving list.
  2. Make gifts using a craft or skill that is truly enjoyable.
  3. Create gift baskets.
  4. Make a music mix.
  5. Give a copy of a favorite book.
  6. Give gift cards/certificates.
  7. Give a membership.
  8. Write an original story or poetry collection and give it as a gift.
  9. Give yourself permission to give the same gift to more than one person on your list.
  10. Give family gifts.

For more on any of these gift-giving ideas, read my full commentary on my post, “Tis the Season to Simplify,” at Life & Liberty.

 

Cook Up some Holiday Spirit

  1. Consider potluck.
  2. Say “yes” when someone offers to bring something.
  3. Choose simpler preparations for at least some of your dishes.
  4. Stick with what you know.

For more on any of these cooking ideas, read my full commentary on my post, “Tis the Season to Simplify,” at Life & Liberty.

 

Keep the Merry in Your Merry-Making

  1. Rethink “White Elephant” parties.
  2. Make kits to give away to charities.
  3. Enjoy the arts together.
  4. See the lights!
  5. Serve together.
  6. Make a special treat or meal together.
  7. Reschedule your celebration for a less-rushed time.

For more on any of these celebration ideas, read my full commentary on my post, “Tis the Season to Simplify,” at Life & Liberty.

 

Pick and choose from this list, take or leave what works for you and helps you have the most joy this holiday season.

Salt, Light & Caring – Thankoffering Sermon

Salt, Light, & Caring

Thankoffering Sermon based on Matthew 5:13-20

Deaconess Jennifer Clark Tinker

 

To learn more about the Thankoffering tradition, you can read about it in this PDF from the Women of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America:

 

All About Thankofferings

http://www.womenoftheelca.org/filebin/pdf/resources/AllAboutThankofferings.pdf

 

Listen to the sermon by clicking the link below, or scroll down to read the manuscript.

 

Audio of “Salt, Light, & Caring”

http://www.spreaker.com/user/5989422/salt-light-caring

 

Fleeing from inside my in-law’s house, I urged my son, “Quick, get in the car!” Once inside the car, before I turned the key in the ignition, I took a few deep breaths. My son was good to oblige my sense of urgency, but he’s old enough that it seemed an explanation was in order. Why did I feel the need for this quick get-away?

Well, I had to get away from my mother-in-law…

Now, don’t get me wrong here. My in-laws have been very dear to me. And my mother-in-law, Elaine Tinker, died a month ago, so I want to tread carefully here and honor her memory. She was an extraordinary woman. She was kind and social, involved in women’s ministry at her church, and various clubs and associations in the community. She was very smart, excelled in her education and kept sharp throughout her lifetime by reading a lot. She was also very detail-oriented, my father-in-law even bragged that she ran the family from her hospital bed in the weeks leading up to her death.

She was fabulous in so many, many ways. And I learned so much from her. But sometimes that “detail-orientation” of hers…well, sometimes I had trouble orienting myself to it. So, you understand, this is a confession about myself, and not speaking ill of my mother-in-law.

On the day that I fled to the car with my son, I was planning to take my son to run an errand while my husband and in-laws went to a meeting. I had it all worked out in my mind how the day would go. But my mother-in-law was concerned about the details.

How would we get back into the house if we finished our errand before their meeting was over? I tried to dismiss the concern telling her we’d be fine even if I didn’t have a detailed plan.

But she continued to wonder aloud. Finally I explained that we would just go for ice cream to fill time until their meeting was done.

But what if it took longer that that? I had to assure her that we had brought work to do, books to read, and paper to write or draw on. For good measure, to allay her worries I made sure she knew we had electronic devices to keep us busy if all else failed.

I think I set those concerns to rest.

And then she turned to worry about how they were going to get out of the driveway since my car was behind theirs. I said, “We’re leaving when you do.”

“But we have to leave very soon,” she countered.

“Well, we will too.”

“We need to leave any time now.”

Exasperated, I finally said, “We’ll just go right-right now, so we’re out of your way.”

That’s when I grabbed my kid and got out of there. After I caught my breath in the car, I explained to my son, “Sometimes I feel really stressed out when Grandma Tinker frets over details like she was just now.”

“Yeah, I know,” my son acknowledged. He knows me too well. There was a pause as I continued to breath deeply. “But,” he broke the silence, “at least it shows that she cares.”

He couldn’t have been more right about that. Every detail Elaine relentlessly followed up on was because she cared. She wanted so much to know that each of us had what we needed and would be okay in life. Even when I slipped out of her questioning, I was always blessed by how much she cared for everyone.

I think the “why” of someone’s detail-orientation makes a difference in relationships. People can be detail-oriented for less-caring reasons: perhaps out of a sense of compulsion, maybe to control other people, or for selfish gain. When it is less-than-caring, relationships are jeopardized, but when it is for caring reasons, relationships are enhanced.

We have before us in the Bible reading from Matthew 5:13-20 the vision of being salt of the earth and light for the world. This is then quickly followed by Jesus talking about the law. In verse 17, Jesus says that he has not come to abolish the law, but to fulfill it. Now, in one way of looking at it, the idea of keeping to the law can sound like a pretty nit-picky, detail-oriented prospect. Indeed, Jesus even goes so far as to say in verse 18, “not one stroke of a letter will pass from the law until all is accomplished.”

Now, the pharisees were big on keeping the law and Jesus often got himself in trouble with them when he didn’t stick to the details quite like they thought he should. For instance, the Pharisees were pretty angry when Jesus healed on the sabbath because it was unlawful to do work on the sabbath.

But Jesus showed that the details of the law are not to impose arbitrary rules on our lives. The whole of the law can be summed up as loving God and loving our neighbor. In other words, keeping to the details of the law is about caring rather than control.

Whenever sticking to the law gets to be about something other than upholding relationships with God & neighbor, then those details get in the way, that obsessive, detail-orientation can actually do more harm than good. I mean, it just doesn’t make sense relationally to leave someone ailing just because no work is to be done on the sabbath!

It is in this spirit of wanting to do good for our neighbors that we celebrate Thankoffering this morning. The special offerings collected here will go out to be “salt and light” to neighbors near and far to show our care. And it is in this same spirit that our women’s ministries go about being “salt and light” throughout the year, making quilts, putting together school kits, and health kits, throwing birthday parties in nursing homes, supplying food pantries, and much more. There are many details that go into carrying out so many ministries: funds to manage, supplies to gather, and people to mobilize.

And this isn’t just in women’s ministry. There are many details involved in other ministries of the congregation, in our jobs, in our schools, in our recreation, and in our homes. And even though some of us have more patience with details than others of us…we see to all of the details because we care.

Except, there may be times when the details themselves become overwhelming. How should we direct our funds? What supplies do we need? When is this or that going to get done? And who is going to do what needs done? When all the details begin to press in on us, it may be tempting to flee the situation altogether. Or we may decide to stay and seize control, barking out orders to others to get everyone in line!

If we begin to feel burnt out or stressed by the details, there’s a good chance that something is off kilter in our relationships. It is in those times that we need to be reminded that it is not up to us to do the work of caring on our own strength.

When Jesus says that he has come to fulfill the law, I believe part of what he is telling us is that his example is the ultimate representation of loving and caring. Indeed, Jesus loves and cares for us without limits, even to the point of giving his very life for our sakes. But Jesus’ fulfilling the law goes a step further in his rising from the dead. Jesus’ victory over death means that Jesus himself, through the work of the Holy Spirit, empowers us to tend to the details, to be the salt and light that the world so needs, and to be the loving and caring presence for our neighbors that we are called to be.

We give thanks for the details that have gone into caring ministries by all people in and through this congregation. We give thanks for women’s ministry in particular. At the same time, we honor the source of our loving and caring—the God who first loved and cared for us. And it is that God, through our Lord Jesus Christ, that we look to for support in tending to all of the details involved in being salt and light in loving care for the world.