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Amazing Grace

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound, That saved a wretch like me….
I once was lost but now am found, Was blind, but now, I see.

T’was Grace that taught… my heart to fear. And Grace, my fears relieved.
How precious did that Grace appear… the hour I first believed.

Through many dangers, toils and snares… we have already come.
T’was Grace that brought us safe thus far… and Grace will lead us home.

The Lord has promised good to me… His word my hope secures.
He will my shield and portion be… as long as life endures.

I’m surrounded by amazing grace, reminders of God’s amazing grace everyday.

Several weeks ago I was at my Grandmother’s and I heard a familiar tune when I walked through the sitting area. There, in a reclined wheelchair, I saw lady who couldn’t have weighed more than 90 lbs. Her hair was neatly brushed and was the same beautiful powder white color of the sand I love in Rosemary Beach, FL. She had silly fluffy socks on her feet, I assumed she didn’t need shoes because she probably rarely walked without help. Her arms were folded over her body but her wrinkled hands showed her age and her fingers overlapped each other with arthritis. This little lady who sat curled up in her chair was absolutely belting out Amazing Grace! For almost a solid hour this beautiful woman sat in the sitting area and sang of grace. As I would pass people in the hallway I could see people’s faces light up as they heard her sing. I wondered about her life before she had to move into a nursing home and I thought how cool it is that God gave her the gift to recall a song about grace at that stage of her life. What fears and dangers has God’s grace brought her safely through? Her life has endured and He has been her shield and whether her mind was in the world or not she was going to sing about it.

God’s grace surrounds me. Perhaps it’s time to put on my own silly fluffy socks and belt out my own tunes. What I saw that day was an amazing picture of God’s amazing grace.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, October 2012

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Purpose Centers Us

I left the working world more than five years ago. It was a complicated matter, but clearly the healthiest option for me. With both of my children in school now and a college degree under my belt, I still struggle with people asking what I do with my time. Truly, some days I am so busy from the time my family leaves the house to the time the buses start rolling down the road, I haven’t taken a bathroom break. Then some days all I do is get up, walk the dog and go back to bed. On those days I am annoyed that I’m tired all the time, but I must accept the reality of my circumstances and move forward.

I just turned 39, gasp (yes Ashley, I just openly admitted my age!) and a decade ago I would have told you I would rather spend a day deer hunting with Johnny than be a stay at home Mom. Alas, here I sit, with a snoring dog at my feet, dishwasher running, clothes in the washer and dryer, kids at school and it’s the middle of the day. I never would have pictured this…surely not the dog part! At 39, I thought I would be well established in my career, although in this economy who really is at any age right? Since life dealt me some unexpected blows (pun intended) I look to the future and wonder if I will be a career stay at home Mom.

The other significant part of my attention is focused on my grandmother. She just turned 97, and though she lives in a full time nursing facility now, she is still old school southern Georgia and she likes things just “so”. She wants her bed made with hospital corners, and she is more than happy to offer training, she wants a cloth napkin with all her meals, and she puts on her lipstick, stockings and shoes every single day even if she doesn’t leave her bedroom. She has Parkinson’s Disease, but for the most part her mind is with us. Let’s face it, mostly she is just old, slow and somewhat forgetful. When I quit work I started spending a couple of days a week with her and over the years it has evolved into a different kind of experience.

Each morning at 9:15, I call to tell her what day it is and remind her what she is doing that day. She depends on that to get her day started. Every Tuesday and Friday I spend a few hours with her. I wash her clothes and even iron her cotton t-shirts just like she likes them. I polish her finger nails and I even trim her toenails (when absolutely necessary). I do her shopping and keep her favorite chocolate candy dish full. A true southern host always has something on hand to offer any guest that stops by. You will be hard pressed to stop by her room and not be offered a Hershey’s nugget! We have a routine; we have a language and a method of communication that many would not understand.

When I think about where my life would be if I were still working, I wonder where HER life would be. For the last 34 years I have lived within 15 minutes from her. There has always been a strong bond. She drove to the hospital in the late night hours when I was in labor with Justin to be there when he was born. After Johnny and me, she was the first person to hold both of our children when they were born. She even taught Hunter how to count change when he used to go with me to her apartment to help her before he started school. She also taught him how to make beds with hospital corners! His reward was one Andes mint. It was an unfortunate day when he figured out where she hid the bag. After 90+ years, what quality of life would she be having now if I were working?

I was dashing out the door for church last night and I grabbed a Bible that I don’t frequently use. It’s a smaller Bible that doesn’t have much reference material in it. I used to carry it at work and use it during our devotions and staff meetings. Last night when I grabbed the pages to flip to Acts, my hands grasped the entire back portion of my Bible and I noticed some writing. Odd, I thought since I had very little writing in this Bible. Inside the back cover I had written “Purpose Centers Us.” Hmm, interesting…. I was intrigued. I read on….”I’ve been set in my location for a specific purpose. I’m strategically placed, not abandoned, not forgotten.” Well, I’ll be! You would think there was a God in heaven that had a plan and knew more than we do right?

Stop looking, stop wondering. Know that God set me in this location for a specific purpose and I may be fulfilling it right now and not even relishing the joy of the season. The smell of the diesel school bus fumes may be fresh breeze scents to the working mom who would love to watch her kids bounce off the school bus. Fighting the most recent meal stains in my grandmother’s shirts would be a joy to my dear friend who just had to say goodbye to her treasured grandmother.

Purpose does indeed center us. So often we just haven’t taken the time to realize what the purpose really is. Maybe you are already in your strategic location fulfilling His purpose for your life now and you just haven’t clearly identified with it. He hasn’t forgotten you. When you identify your purpose you will find more joy and happiness in fulfilling His plan.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, October 2012

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Lucky #7

This time of the year my thoughts always turn inward. I close my eyes and seek the months and perhaps years of memories of my children that are lost in the cavern of my mind. Those lost memories make me the saddest. I wonder what I missed, what I have forgotten and I wonder what I might have been.

Seven years ago I worked up the nerve to drive to the new mall and walk around with our 2 year old and look around. I left the mall on a stretcher in an ambulance with some lingering questions finally answered and the realization that my world had just shifted forever.

Seven years later; what have I learned? Each day gets me a little closer to accepting the changes in my life. When words fail me, or thoughts jumble or I get lost, it’s an opportunity for me to accept that God sifted this through His hand and is still holding me. I have learned that everyone has a story and a battle they have fought or are fighting. I may be the only person that entire week who sincerely looks them in the eyes and greets them and says something kind. I learned to make the time for someone else when my time seems shortest and least convenient.

As I realized that this weekend marks the seventh anniversary of my epilepsy diagnosis, perhaps it is really lucky #7. In less than two months, 7, YES LUCKY #7, of my best friends are going with me to Philadelphia to run the Half Marathon. Except they aren’t just running it, each of them have joined the Epilepsy Therapy Project and raised money alongside me over the last few months. Together we have already raised over $11,000!

When I get frustrated by the what if’s, I need look no further than my front yard to the pick up game of baseball on a weekday afternoon and realize that list of what if’s would look a lot different if I didn’t have epilepsy.

There is so much for which I am thankful and yes, even lucky to have in my life.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, September 2012

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It’s a Small World After All

Last Friday Shaken, Not Stirred had our first fundraising event for the Epilepsy Therapy Project at sweetFrog Frozen Yogurt. The owner’s, Steve and Sandy Anto graciously welcomed our crew and even brought in entertainment and games for the kids. Their son, my son, and another young man who works at sweetFrog play in a band together. I dreamed up the idea several months ago to have a fundraiser and have the band play. The Antos were all in from the start and with a debut date on the calendar, it was all business for the band.

I’m from the non-profit world and I did a LOT of event planning, way back when, but I’m a bit rusty these days. Thankfully, this time I had a full team of people to call on and the work was spread out with hands grasping for more. This is a special group of people and they not only see a task, they just take it and roll. We used every resource of labor we had available, including child labor. Sharon’s daughter, Addyson, spent one entire day making purple Epilepsy Awareness Ribbons. I apologize now for every hot glue gun burn and pin stick she has, but you should know we gave away every ribbon she made! We got donations from Taco Mac at Birkdale, Hickory Tavern at Birkdale, Chili’s in Huntersville, Longhorn in Huntersville and Carolina CAT and my kids assembled 150+ kids’ goodie bags to give away. Each business was overwhelmingly generous and not a single one turned me away!

I didn’t know what to expect on the day of our event. I had advertised, our team had advertised and sweetFrog had advertised, but you just never know. It’s not so much about the money, OK, well yes, it is about the money that we are raising for the Epilepsy Therapy Project, but I want people to have the chance to learn about something that is so misunderstood. For years I flew under the radar because I was afraid of being misunderstood. I was embarrassed by how I had changed and my inability to cope in certain situations. Is that going to keep me from living my life to my fullest? It shouldn’t. I’m learning that. I’m learning to embrace change. That’s what this race in Philadelphia with ETP is about; stepping out and being a face of epilepsy and brain injury. I hoped we would have the chance to share with people.

The people, oh the people, the flood of people, and the endless flood of tears and emotion that I felt all night. It’s been a week now and I still can’t wrap my mind around it. The show of support spoke volumes. Every set of eyes came to see and to learn about what we were doing. These eager faces wanted to understand. Faces from my childhood, from my husband’s days in elementary school, faces from my high school, from college, from our wedding, my mother’s former colleagues, families from our small group, our devoted RUN-agades, my TEAM in Training Coaches (including my Coach who saw me fall in LOVE with running in Nashville back in 2008), my neighbors, from our church, my Mom (also our Shaken, Not Stirred head cheerleader), my Mother-in-law and Father-in-law and people I had never met that read about us and came out to support our efforts. In a very busy big world, on a Friday night in August, all these people converged on sweetFrog Frozen Yogurt. For six straight hours, there was laughter, friendship and celebration among the hundreds of people who made time to stop by. Having grown up in a small town, I often feel the strain of the quick growth of our area. Friday night showed me, it’s a small world after all.

Friday night I met a woman and her family who came out because they read about our event online. She introduced me to her 11 yr old son. He was diagnosed with epilepsy when he was 3 years old and she was 8 months pregnant. For the last 5 years she has been working (I would say slaving is a better word) to secure a seizure dog for her son, and just last week they brought their new dog Chip home with them! I cried tears of joy with this mom as we watched her son play with Chip and I knew the immediate sense of relief she felt. This was an event worthy of celebrating!

I tried my best to share my gratitude and most importantly the reason Shaken, Not Stirred came together. My thoughts were so raw and discombobulated I couldn’t even get people’s names right. As I looked on the crowd and no words could come from my mouth and only tears could flow from my eyes, my very small world was a loving world, an understanding world, an accepting world and the silence was ok.

The night was a tremendous success! It was everything I had envisioned with music, fun and frozen yogurt all night long! I’m proud of my family for working so hard on this project with me and I’m proud of this team for running away with the vision and pressing on to raise $1000’s of dollars for the Epilepsy Therapy Project. I’m thankful for the generosity of the Antos and sweetFrog Frozen Yogurt for supporting our cause.

We have already raised over $8,000 and it’s only the beginning! We got some very exciting news just today that we will be sharing soon! We are SHAKEN things up, purple style… You just wait and see!

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, August 2012

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Sorting it out; a year later

A year ago I sat in front of this computer in complete anger and frustration. That’s when the seizures returned and I started the mad science lesson with medicine that really isn’t quite over just yet. A year ago I was mad at epilepsy and I was mad at brain injury and I was mad that they were messing with me again. Yes, I’m a control freak. I’ll admit it. Guess what? I can’t shake my finger at my own brain and tell it to shape up. Well, I can, but it doesn’t do any good.  I needed some time to release the anger and move on to acceptance before I could start working towards healing again. In so many ways that seems like yesterday and it seems like an entire lifetime ago. In all honestly, I’m not completely over my anger, I’ve just refocused that anger into something more worthwhile than self-destruction.

I have to give props to my family who put up with the likes of attitudes out of me of the last year that I probably would not believe I actually displayed. People who have never had to take drugs for your brain may never understand what it feels like to look in the mirror and not recognize the face, to answer a question and yet not understand your own the response, or to find yourself lost in the city you have called home for 35 years. I’m dealing with it all. I pound it all out in the pavement every week.

There’s one thing that I had hoped would come back over the last year, and it hasn’t. In fact, it has progressively gotten worse. I’m not so much mad, it just makes me sad. I lost a great deal of my ability to really express myself after my brain injury. I know…many of you may disagree, but Johnny, or my Mom or Sharon, (and they know it doesn’t hurt my feelings to be honest about it either) will agree with me on this point. They know. I lost the ability to verbally express myself, yet I found I could express myself through writing.  My blog was such a source of comfort and release for me.  But my new medicine has….well…I can’t find the words for it…now even my written words are a lot slower, or just not there at all. So now everything I feel, and experience stays pretty much bottled up inside me but is swelling in every direction. But I can’t comprehend the swells or begin to let the swells overflow onto paper, so the foam continues to bubble up. I’m not really mad about it anymore, maybe frustrated, maybe annoyed. The trade-off is that this medicine is keeping the seizures away. Seems like a small price to pay for life, right. I’m a mom, seizure free is my goal, I have to accept swelling foamy bubbles not matter how much they confuse me.

So, I’ll keep refocusing my ______ into something more worthwhile. Please don’t stop reading my blog just because I’m not posting as often, it’s just because I can’t figure out how to say what’s on my mind. I’m still busy though, If you haven’t already heard about my worthwhile venture…click the link below. I gotta do something to find a better drug than this one…this is the best way I know to do that!  http://epilepsytherapyproject.myetap.org/fundraiser/2012PHLMarathon/individual.do?participationRef=3917.0.251389979

Good thing there is a lot of pavement left in Huntersville and a lot of miles left on my shoes. I tend to have a lot of energy to burn, for good reason. Maybe one day I can explain.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, July 2012