Author Archives: Jennifer Zink

Her name is Kimberly Anastasia. She asked me if I would tell her a few stories from her childhood. I agreed, partially because I love the memories!

When she was in my belly, near to birth, she pushed her foot against my belly hard. It hurt, but the moment was joyful. I could actually trace around your foot and toes! I felt as though I was touching your little, baby foot. I was watching “Coal Miner’s Daughter” with your daddy until I had to push you out. Two pushes and out you came! You were so tiny, compared to your brothers, at 7 pounds and 3 1/2 ounces. I didn’t even need Pitocin (the medication used to put me into labor). You were such a pretty baby, that a coworker called you an angel! She really meant it.

There is a picture of you that I adore. It was a photo taken at Mikey’s baseball game. You were running towards me with your friends, and you were smiling such a contented smile that makes me overjoyed when I see the picture. It, right now, lives in one of my scrapbooking folders.

I call you my strawberry girl because you were born during the month when the strawberries are ripe and ready to be picked. Also, you had a little shirt that had a big strawberry on the front of it. I loved putting it on you, my strawberry girl!

You are my only daughter, and I love that you’re the one. I’m also happy that I got to dress you up in pretty dresses and beautiful bonnets.

My favorite memory of you is when you received your diploma. I was so proud of you. You lived through hell and back, yet they couldn’t keep you down! I don’t know if you know how tremendously proud of you I was that you could go through so much and still come out on top! That’s integrity!

Luke 8:48 – And He said unto her, Daughter, be of good comfort: thy faith hath made thee whole; go in peace. (KJV)

My now late-husband, Michael Zink (1957-2018), was with me when we, finally, learned of my diagnosis. So, Mike became my first caregiver. It was easy at first. I was still mobile with my walker and Mike would help me upstairs. He was so good to me. Mike worked from home, which was a huge blessing. Eventually, as my muscles continued to atrophy, I began to need more help than Mike could give.

Enter the nurses and aides. The ALS Association paid for an aide to bathe me, wash my hair and teeth, and do my dishes and laundry. I really appreciated them. It wasn’t until I had a tracheostomy that I needed a nurse.

My now late-father, Thomas Haas (1950-2019), would come to see me every day. He was retired, but he still worked part-time. Every single day, he first stopped by a local Dunkin’ Donuts and bought me a raspberry iced tea. He would always be over at 3pm. So, when he would walk through the door, he’d always say, “Tea at three!” And would walk in with a joyful smile.

Eventually, as my muscles were slowly giving up, Dad found he was helping a lot. So, he asked me and Mike if I wanted to live with him and Mom. I said yes, because I wanted to give Mike a well-deserved break. My dad and my mom then became my primary caregivers. Since Mom was still working, but with retirement on the horizon, she took care of me all night. I couldn’t always sleep through the night, which wasn’t good for Mom. When she did retire, it was a great relief for her. My dad had taken care of me all day long, and we had a lot fun together. That is, until Dad got sick. He died within a month.

Then my mom became my primary caregiver. Through her grief, she never wavered in her care of me. To this day, I’m still in her loving care. I also have a team of nurses and aides: Katrina, Sherry, Stacey, and Amelia. I don’t know what we’d do without them.

No matter what, we are never alone. Our Lord of Heaven and Earth will be with us, as He always has been and always will be.

1 Peter 5:7 -Casting all your care upon Him; for He careth for thee. (KJV)

Cindy is my youngest sister. She is exactly 5 1/2 years younger than I am. She was so cute when she was born; her sweet, cherub-like cheeks were so lovable and pinchable.

Being all those years apart, we really didn’t spend time together until Cindy was about four years old. She had spent the first two years of her life in and out of the hospital. Still, Cathy and I loved her. As Cindy grew up, we had plenty of time to play.

One thing that our mom and our grandma loved to do was take us to the shore where Cindy liked to bury me in the sand. We built sandcastles with motes, using our brightly-colored, plastic buckets and shovels. We collected seashells and found some beautiful shells, fully intact. We even found some seashells with their little critters still alive within their homes. At the time, we thought they were gross, and all of kids let them be. Of course, no trip to the shore would be complete without a few dips in the waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

We would have “school” in our garage. Dad and Mom had a large chalkboard with a small table and matching chairs in our school area, which was near the rear of the garage. In the winter, Mom or Dad would light the very large kerosene heater, which we knew not to touch, to keep us warm. It quickly warmed the entire garage. I would use dittos (when was the last you heard that word?) covered in a plastic film, so we could use them again and again. Some were Mathematics, others were Language Arts. All of them were fun! Cindy, especially, seemed to enjoy them.

Times weren’t always joyful. Cindy was being bullied by the several kids at her bus stop. When I heard they were going hurt Cindy, my baby sister, I decided to walk with her to her bus stop. They attacked us just as we walked up. I was able to get a few kicks and punches before I had to cover Cindy. I literally threw myself over her body and tried to cover her little head with my hands. The attacks kept coming. That is, until the blessed bus showed up. Then, the kids scattered for the school bus and I took Cindy home.

Cindy and I went to the shore mid-winter. It was kind of spooky, with only the local residents, not the summer tourists. We walked on the boardwalk, which had most of the many stores, games, and rides shut down until the following Memorial Day. We were excited to see that our favorite pizza place was open all year! We got a few slices of pepperoni pizza, and plain, and then we decided to drive around town and see what the locals experience.

We happened upon a bowling alley and decided to bowl a few games. Cindy was a lot better than I was at hitting down those pins. Needless to say, she beat me in all three games. I was happy seeing Cindy enjoy herself.

From there, we were in search of a restaurant for dinner. We found a quaint, little diner with great platters of food. Fully satiated, we headed home.

I really love my baby sister, Cindy.

John 15:13 – Greater love hath no man than this, that a man lay down his life for his friends. (KJV)

Cathy and I always found ourselves in trouble. Being my sister, only 18 months younger, we were each other’s best friend. We loved to build forts out of the living room cushions and some very sturdy blankets. We even had dinner in our “secret” space. That was, of course, until we spilled our delicious bowl of spaghetti and homemade meatballs. It ended up as a stringy mess of sauce and meatballs. Cathy and I said together, “Oh, no,” as Mom and Dad came rushing in. Needless to say, that was the end of our fort-building for awhile.

Next up, we almost got kidnapped. Yes, you read that correctly. We were visiting our sweet, loving grandmother and we were allowed to walk to Heritage’s store for some treats. On our way back, four men dressed in black trench coats, of all things typical, and pulled their car right to the curb where we were. One of the men in the backseat, held the door open, and demanded we get into their beat-up Cadillac.

At that point, I screamed, “Cathy, RUN!” We ran as fast as our legs would carry us. As I was in the lead, I kept looking back to make sure that my little sister was still behind me. During the first time I looked back, I also noticed that the Caddy was gone. We ran all way back to grandma’s house. There we told our mom and our grandma.

Another time, we were driving, actually Mom was driving, when Cathy opened her door and was hanging on for dear life. I reached over her and happened to look down as I stretched to reach the door handle, and saw the road racing under us. By that time, Mom saw what had happened. With all my strength, I pulled the door shut. Then Mom was able to stop the car and check on us.

Mom went into a cleaners to pick up Dad’s shirt, leaving us in the car (when it was legal). Cathy decided, about age six, she wanted to drive our beaver car. You know, with the wooden paneling on the sides. Cathy was as happy as pie “driving” the car, pushing and pulling the knobs. That is until she touched the gear shifts and we slowly started moving backwards! I jumped into the front, nevermind that I had no idea what I was doing. I tried every knob I could, but I couldn’t stop the car. Just then, a Good Samaritan jumped in and stopped our beaver, just as Mom came running out.

As if that weren’t enough, our parents took us to the shore. Cathy and I loved to sit in the water and let the waves roll over our heads. However, a cross current pulled us out to where we couldn’t reach the sandy bottom. Cathy panicked and grabbed my head and pushed me under the water. I fought to surface, and when I did, I told Cathy to hold me around my neck. I could barely breathe, but I tried to swim us to shore. I was making headway when I saw my dad running towards us. We had reached the point where we could walk again, and Dad and the lifeguard reached us. Cathy and I never played that game again.

We had a lot of fun and troubles growing up, but I wouldn’t change my little sister for the world; after all, I love her!

1 John 4:18a – There is no fear in love; for perfect love casteth out fear… (KJV)

This song inspires me. In it, Josh Groban is singing to the Lord. May we all strive to worship and sing to God.

As I mentioned last week, I wanted to be just like my parents. Loving, caring, giving. So, on my 39th birthday, when I was still walking with a walker, my husband and I decided we would do 39 Random Acts of Kindness.

We started out by having lunch at Bertucci’s. There we picked a table where two men were sitting, enjoying their meal. When our waitress stopped by our table, I showed her the note I’d written earlier. It read, “We’d like to pay the bill for the two men diagonal from us. Please bring us their check and don’t tell them we’d paid for their meal.” They must have something to her, because she told them we paid. The men were so thankful. We also gave the two waitresses both 100% tips.

From there we went to Dunkin’ Donuts and bought a lot of hot chocolate, dozens of doughnuts, and several gift cards. We then stopped back home to pick up my children, to show them the happiness of giving. We also picked up a 50-pound bag of dog food from our garage, unopened. Our dog, Anderson, had just died of stomach cancer. I still miss that sweet black lab today.

Now for the next fun part! As this was February, and people were cold, our first stop was when we spotted men on roadwork, and we gave them hot chocolates and a dozen doughnuts. We gave each school a dozen. We donated the dog food to a no-kill animal shelter. We stopped with hot chocolate and gift cards to every school crossing guard and police officer we found. I walked up to our local fire department and gave them a dozen doughnuts. The children were actually the ones who donated the dog food, because I wanted them to participate, not just be observers.

Near the end, my daughter and I went into Wawa to buy the last few gift cards we needed. We handed out three gift cards to people in line behind us, then we were headed to my parents’ home. This was our last stop; we handed out Wawa gift cards to my parents, my sisters, and their husbands.

In the end, we had done 39 Random Acts of Kindness. To finish off the evening, we ordered yummy-delicious pizza.

Hebrews 13:2 – Be not forgetful to entertain strangers: for thereby some have entertained angels unawares. (KJV)