There’s a kind of tenderness that only grief teaches—a softness in the way you show up for your children, a patience you never knew you had and a deepening of presence that comes not from discipline but from love. For many of us, that lesson arrives slowly, but for Jenny Robinson-Clark, it arrived both suddenly and with clarity.
Long before she became an author, a mother of four and a voice for families navigating loss, Jenny’s life was rooted in creative expression. She danced, performed and lived in movement, story, and art—but it was motherhood and the sudden loss of her own mother that reshaped everything she thought she knew about presence, absence and the invisible threads that connect us.
Jenny’s new children’s book Are You Here? was born from that reshaping. It’s framed as a story for kids, but its heart beats for adults just as strongly—especially those who’ve ever wondered what it means to carry someone you love when they can no longer be seen. In her world, love doesn’t disappear when someone does—it whispers through rainbows and butterflies, quiet moments in nature and the ordinary days we share with our children.
On her Instagram, Jenny speaks as both a creator and a mom who’s deeply committed to nurturing emotional honesty in her family—talking about grief, presence, faith and the ways in which children can be invited into big conversations instead of shielded from them. She’s shown her journey publicly, but what her posts only begin to capture is the depth of the internal work behind the words, the courage behind the conversations and the tenderness in the everyday moments she describes.
In this issue of The Motherhood Identity Series, Jenny reflects on the way grief unexpectedly softened the way she shows up for her children, the courage it takes to talk about death and absence with honesty and the way her own stories became invitations for families to learn how to live with love instead of fear.
This conversation is equal parts about surviving the hard parts of life and learning to live with them beautifully.
We’re honored to share Jenny Robinson-Clark’s story.
Before motherhood, you were deeply immersed in creative expression—acting, dancing, performing. How did becoming a mother reshape not just what you did, but how you understood yourself?
Becoming a mother reshaped everything I thought I knew about myself and about life. First and foremost, it expanded my heart tenfold, and with that expansion came a new sense of purpose, not just for living, but for living meaningfully. Before motherhood, I spent many years focused inward, prioritizing my own goals, ambitions, and personal achievements. I wouldn’t say those years were wasted, but they were centered on who I wanted to become, not who I was becoming for someone else.
Little did I know that becoming a mom would gently but completely shift my perspective, teaching me what true selflessness looks like. My attention naturally moved away from myself and toward my children, their needs, their emotions, their sense of safety and belonging. I made a conscious decision to be present for them, knowing deep in my heart that presence, more than anything else, would create a strong and loving bond between us.
Through motherhood, I’ve come to understand myself in ways I never did before. It has revealed my strengths, challenged my weaknesses, and softened parts of me I didn’t even realize were guarded. Being a mother has taught me patience, empathy, and unconditional love, and it continues to shape who I am every single day.
After the loss of your mother, in what ways did grief unexpectedly soften or clarify the way you show up for your children today?
The loss of my mother was life-altering. Grief softened my heart and made me realize how fleeting this life truly is. It taught me to slow down, to be more patient, to parent with grace and understanding, and to really sit and listen to my children. It shifted my priorities toward creating meaningful moments and special memories with them.
My mom made our childhood feel magical through the way she celebrated birthdays and holidays and planned special family vacations that still live vividly in my memory. There have been many moments when I’ve wondered if I’m giving my children the same intentional love she gave her four kids. I think she would be proud. And through grief, I’ve come to understand something deeply important: she was doing the very best she could, just as I am doing the very best I can.
You’ve spoken about grief bringing you closer to your kids rather than pulling you away. What did that look like in real life—in the quiet moments, the hard conversations, the ordinary days?
Grief brought me closer to my children by teaching me to lean into the hard conversations instead of avoiding them. Growing up, we never talked about death, and that silence made it something I feared deeply. I didn’t want that for my kids, so we speak openly about my mom and keep her present in our everyday lives, we see her in ladybugs, talk to her, and celebrate her heavenly birthday each year. I want my children to know that love doesn’t end when someone is no longer physically here. By showing up without fear, I hope to teach them that death is not something to be afraid of, but a reminder to live fully, love deeply, and embrace the unknown, where growth begins.
Your children’s book, Are You Here?, grew out of personal loss. How did you know this story belonged outside of you—and in the hands of other families?
I knew this story belonged outside of me when I realized I wasn’t alone in my questions or my grief. As I was writing Are You Here? the message of the book healed me in ways I didn’t expect; it felt as though my mom was gently reminding me not to fear death, that she wasn’t gone but still right here with me and all around me. That reassurance was deeply comforting. When I began sharing the story, I saw how it resonated with other families searching for a gentle, honest way to talk about loss. At that point, it felt like a disservice not to share it, in the hope that it might bring others the same healing, peace and sense of connection it brought me.
Many parents struggle with how to talk to their kids about death, absence, or “big” emotions. What do you wish more parents understood about having those conversations early—and honestly?
I think many parents struggle with these conversations because they’re uncomfortable facing their own feelings first, and I include myself in that. But I’ve learned that choosing the harder conversation almost always brings a greater reward: a deeper bond with our children and a more compassionate, grounded sense of self. When we speak honestly with kids early on, we help prevent the emotional confusion and fear that can grow in silence.
Children, like adults, fill in the gaps when answers are missing, and our thoughts often go to the worst-case place. Naming the hard things out loud helps everyone realize those fears aren’t always true. More often than not, honesty creates understanding, connection, and a deep sense of peace.
You’ve transitioned from passion to purpose in a very visible way. Did that shift feel natural, or did you have to grieve parts of your former identity along the way?
I absolutely grieved my old identity, especially when I became pregnant and made the decision to move back to Florida to be close to my mom as her health declined. Letting go of the life I had imagined wasn’t easy, but it was the best decision I’ve ever made. Once I was there, I didn’t look back, I understood how important it was to show up for her the way she had always shown up for our family. I chose to live selflessly for her, just as she had for us, and while that choice was challenging at first, it gave me clarity and purpose. When she passed, I had no regrets, and I wouldn’t change the way my path shifted for anything.
As a mother of four, how has motherhood stretched or redefined your sense of ambition? What does success look like to you now compared to before kids?
I love this question. Motherhood completely redefined my ambition. For many years I was a stay-at-home mom, and while I cherished that season, I also knew God had placed a bigger dream on my heart, one rooted in serving others on a larger scale. I believe the timing was intentional; I was meant to give my full attention to my children in their early years.
When this new path of becoming an author opened, it reignited a deeper, more purposeful ambition. I knew I had to follow the calling God placed within me, not only for myself but to model for my children what it looks like to pursue your dreams with courage. I wasn’t fearless, but my desire to show up for them was greater than my fear of failure. Before children, success felt ego-driven; now success is God-driven, living with purpose, leading with love, serving humanity, and raising kind, compassionate children alongside a supportive, loving husband
Your home life sounds full—homeschooling, baking, dancing, creating. How do you protect presence in the middle of that fullness?
I think all those moments create intentional presence so it’s easy to protect it if I am aware and feel truly connected in those moments. I talk to my mom a lot and ask for her guidance in every situation and experience I choose to do. Knowing she is with me and I can call on her reminds me to stay present and to continue to choose this path so I don’t get distracted thinking about the past or what’s to come in the future.
Being married to a touring musician like Travis Clark adds another layer to family life. How do you and your partner stay grounded and connected while raising kids in a nontraditional rhythm?
It works for us and I believe God placed us in each other’s lives because he knew we could handle our non traditional way of raising a family. I always knew I wanted to raise my kids differently than I was raised. I always wanted to homeschool and have a flexible schedule. I am not one for routine and planning so it just works for us. We love being together, we homeschool, co-sleep, cook meals together, and travel spontaneously when we feel like it. It keeps it exciting and fun.
Grief is often framed as something to “get through.” What has grief given you as a mother that you didn’t expect?
It has given me a new understanding of life. I think we all must ride the wave of grief, feel the pain, the anger, the sadness, the hurt, without dwelling in it. If we can get to the other side of that wave we will be able to experience joy and love and happiness, which we all deserve. Grief gave me this new purpose that I never expected. If you asked me if I ever thought I would write a children’s book I would’ve said no way. And here we are. I’m grateful because it opened my heart to this experience, it gave me an idea and I have followed it through till the end. I am so proud of myself and I know for certain my mom has been right here with me, divinely guiding me this whole time.
If your children were describing you one day—who you are, not what you do—what would you hope they say?
That I was a loving and kind mom, that I tried my best and had the courage to follow my dreams.
For mothers walking through loss while actively raising young children, what would you want them to know they’re doing right—even on the days it feels like too much?
If you are giving yourself the time to feel your emotions you are doing it right, don’t hide it, talk to your kids about how you’re feeling, they are usually so understanding and supportive. It’s so important for them to see that you are human and have sad days. Something that has helped me is when I feel the grief I will stop what I’m doing, take a breath, and talk to my mom. I heard that when we feel our grief it’s just our loved ones trying to connect with us, reminding us of the love that is still there and that has brought me peace.
I also changed my perspective and definition of “loss”. So many people say they have “lost their loved one”, but that is not the case, they are with us, we know where they are. They are free from their physical body but their love remains within us and all around us. Losing someone is sad but knowing where they are brings great peace and I know my mom is always with me.
