Posts Tagged ‘Out of Control’

21 Jan

Learn from Disney’s Frozen about Misuse of Power

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

elsa-pose

In Frozen, the character of Queen Elsa is loosely based on the villainous Snow Queen in a story by Hans Christian Anderson. Disney’s choice to make the Snow Queen a sympathetic character was brilliant as it exposes two important realities about our own misuse of power. First, the real villains in our world are only human after all; each of us have the capacity to use our abilities for good or for harm. Second, if you drill down deep enough, the most villainous acts we each commit are driven by fear of some kind.

Read the rest of this essay at Life & Liberty to see how I use the above insights as the basis to further explore the misuse of power in our real lives. Click Elsa’s intense eyes in the picture above to read the essay.

10 Jan

The Fragile Bond of Mother & Son

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

My son had a fall today and it was a sobering moment.

We had been goofing off when he fell backwards and hit his head. All I could do in that moment was to completely freeze because if I had reached for him as he was falling, the shift of my body would have made him fall harder.

I just waited and pictured the worst in my mind.

You know how they talk about people having their whole lives flash before their eyes? Well, in that moment when my son was free-falling, his whole life flashed before my eyes.

And, of course, what that meant was my entire career as a mother flashed before my eyes. And I thought about all the ways that I have let my child down.

portrait

I can never quite decide if this portrait my son drew of me is flattering or frightening.

I’m pretty sure he doesn’t see it that way. He got up and let me comfort him and we both vowed not to try that stunt again.

He was a bit stunned and his head was a little sore, but he was okay. Nothing was broken and he was still alive and able to speak, hear and all that.

The worst case that I imagined had not occurred, not even close.

He was okay.

But I sobbed, uncontrollably.

I sobbed over what might have happened–that I might have lost my child in a fall that I was partly responsible for.

I sobbed thinking about the time when he was a babe in arms and we both fell and I almost lost him then too.

I sobbed thinking about the times that I am cranky or cross with him even when he has done nothing to deserve my bad attitude.

And I sobbed thinking of all the times when I have put him off when he has wanted me to play with him because I just wanted to finish writing or reading whatever I was working on.

And I sobbed thinking about how hard it was for me to bond with him when he was first born because my postpartum depression put such a whammy on me.

And I sobbed worrying if my bond with my son will be healthy and strong as he gets older.

And I just wanted to hold him and pray and hope that we will be okay.

And now, he is waiting for me to finish writing this so we can spend some time together…I want to make it count, because I really do love that kid more than I can say.

10 Dec

Eat, Sleep, Preach: A Deaconess in Depression

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

My depression is knocking me down this week. The will to do anything is elusive. My sense of worth is shot.

It’s not rational it just is.

You can’t talk me out of it.

I can’t even talk me out of it.

I’ve had my ups and downs over time and I’ve been on a bit of an upswing lately–feeling good about my writing and podcasting and all that good stuff.

It was in an upswing that I decided to finally start writing for real. I was tired of letting my depression hold me back in life and tell me I wasn’t good enough and didn’t have enough to say. I told my depression to go straight to hell and I was going to do this thing.

But that damned depression is creeping up again.

I mean, there’s the normal-people self-doubt and comparison trap that I get into sometimes and those bring me down, but there’s always something or someone that helps snap me out of those.

But this week–I’ve just been a mess and there’s nothing that can snap me out of it. I’m just a tear-stained, frumpy-clothed mess.

AdventPreaching2013And I hate this part of my story.

I much prefer the part of my story in which I’m the shiny-happy preaching Deaconess. (See photo.)

I’ve heard people criticize social media because of the way that people carefully curate their image–showing only their good sides, posting only the favorable photos, sharing only the triumphant moments.

To be sure, I want you to know about my highs! I want to tell you about my latest podcast that I’m proud of! I want you to see the action shot of me preaching.

But you deserve to know about today and the other days like it. About how I didn’t want to get out of bed. About how I stayed in my pajamas until I got the text that my husband was on his way home for lunch. And about how when my husband got home for lunch he cooked and loaded the dishwasher while I sat in a corner in the kitchen and wept and poured out my tale of woe.

I want to be honest about the whole of this life of mine. I’m the preaching Deaconess and the lady who doesn’t want to get up until after noon.

I know my depression isn’t the worst in the world. I did make it out of bed, so that’s something.

And the fact that I’m at this keyboard is because, as I told my journal today, if I can do nothing else, I will write about my damn depression. Because I’m doing this writing thing no matter what.

God knows there is so much more I want–and need–to write about. There’s so much to say I could burst sometimes.

I don’t want to write about my depression, but it is the elephant in the room right now and it takes too much energy to ignore it. It won’t let me think of anything else right now. So I’m writing about it. Because I’m doing this writing thing.

Photo by: Melissa Wickel

4 Oct

Shutdown as Opportunity

Posted by Jennifer Clark Tinker in Community, Leadership. Tagged: , , , , , , , .

I don’t know when I became this person–one who says something about politics. Then again, I’m not really saying anything–I mean, I’m not arguing a side.

What I want to suggest is that this impasse about the Affordable Care Act (ACA) presents us with an opportunity that is all-too-easy to miss with all this shutdown drama.

I’ve written before about the idea that the more different we are, the more we need each other. In that post I made specific mention of the marriage issue, but, if I took out those references, the same post is pretty much what I want to say about this shutdown situation.

The reality that a decision cannot be made is a clue that there is more to explore about what is at stake in the ACA.

Instead we draw lines and take sides.

We characterize and demonize the opposition.

We can’t see why those other guys won’t budge.

We blame them for the shutdown but excuse our own dogmatic insistence on our own way.

I’m saying “we” instead of “they” because we are continuing to play out the stalemate in our statuses and tweets. We the people are as divided as the congress.

But it doesn’t have to be that way!

What I mean to say is, maybe instead of locking horns, we could look for common ground. Instead of blaming the other side, we can each take the time to listen.

Differences of opinion can be a gift. Hearing all sides helps us make well-rounded decisions with widespread acceptance.

This shutdown, this impasse about the ACA presents us as a nation with the opportunity to listen more deeply to one another.

This kind of listening often leads to creative solutions that are better than what either side could come up with on their own.

It’s easy to blame the Republicans for holding this up–hasn’t this already been decided? But the Democrats could agree to slow things down–wasn’t 2014 a rather arbitrarily-chosen year to start?

I’m just thinking what would be so bad about taking some time to get on the same page? And if there are desperate needs for healthcare right now, then why not adopt a temporary measure to address those until we’re more settled about the larger healthcare situation?

We could take this opportunity to work this through, or we could just shut down on one another. I’d like to see us work together creatively to do what is in the best interest of all people.

What if instead of a dramatic shutdown, we chose to make a dramatic shift in how we engage tough issues as a nation?

1 Oct

Vases of Grace

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

Vase of Grace

I blew it. I blew my top with my son. Again.

I don’t mean to do it. I really don’t. I don’t mean to yell at him.

He’s a good kid. A great kid really. He’s smart, funny, and caring. He’s a Lego pro. He does great character voices when reading aloud or playing make-believe. He “gets” God and Jesus and grace better than some people five times his age.

It is not his fault that I yell at him. Even if he does bad stuff, I’m the grown-up–responsible for keeping my own reactions in check.

There’s no good reason to angry-yell at any kid–none that I can think of in the whole wide world. Not a single one. It’s just plain wrong.

Add to that I’m this mom who is passionate about Positive Discipline, making a point to offer loving support, and non-punitive correction. I should know better. I should do better.

When I yell, I know that it is me who is out of control. I know that.

And I want to be quick to tell you that it doesn’t happen very often. Most of the time, we’re all pretty laid back around here. We get along well in my family of three: we cooperate, we talk about anything and everything, and we’re generally really nice people.

I don’t yell all the time. Hardly ever really. It’s almost not even worth bringing up lest you get the wrong idea about me. It’s not that bad…

Except, I saw a headline the other day that if you yell at your child it can cause as much emotional harm as physical abuse. I would never lay a hand on my child. I’ve never even spanked him as discipline. Ever.

But to think that my out-of-control yelling could cause him emotional harm?

Oh, Lord have mercy.

And I see it. Rather, I hear some of the fall-out of the yelling. “I’m the stupidest kid in the world!” is a typical response when I yell at him. His negative self-talk peaks whenever I lose control with my tone of voice.

Two Tuesdays ago, after I yelled I was quick to apologize. And he was quick to forgive saying, “That’s okay mommy. I’m kind-of used to it.”

Oh child. Oh sweet boy.

“You shouldn’t have to be used to that. Mommy is wrong to yell. Just as I want you to talk to mommy in a respectful tone of voice, you can expect the same from me. When I don’t speak to you respectfully, it is wrong.”

I spent the better part of that day feeling really crummy for having yelled, and for him being “kind-of used to it.” And my own negative self-talk dominated my inner-dialog.

But something happened that gave me hope. I can’t remember if it was the same day or the day after that, but I was still beating myself up about the yelling when my son brought me flowers from the yard.

Before I had a chance to come and see the flowers, he put them in glasses of water. But the stems were far too short to reach the bottom of the glasses, so he custom-engineered supports out of some of his Legos to keep the blooms above the water level.

These vases of grace gave me hope. Great hope. Hope that his predominate mode is confidence and kindness, not self-loathing. Hope that I get a second chance to do better. Hope that we can move forward and that he had already moved past the difficult moment on which I had still been dwelling.

It has happened again since I got those vases. But I caught it quicker. And I’m recognizing my triggers–triggers that have nothing to do with him at all. And I’m seeing that some of what triggers my out-of-control behavior are stressors that I can reduce or eliminate. So, with God’s help I’m working on all that.

It is important work, but it is a work in progress. But the vases, those beautiful vases remind me that there is grace, even for me.

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