Category Archives: Faith

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Fear NOT the Change

Several months ago I wrote about fear and why we have it, why we need it, and what good it serves. Today I’m facing fear again and it leads me back to the same questions.

Once a week I sit down with a ziplock bag full of medicine, my green seven day pill box and a pill splitter. This morning I dumped out the bag of bottles and looked at the notes I scribbled months ago during a conversation with the doctor.  I knew the date was coming and it made me sick to my stomach to even think about it.  After four months of stepping down dosage of my main anti-seizure med and stepping up a new med, today starts the last phase of the weaning process. I will take a minimum dose of the medicine that sustained me for the last 6 years and the highest dose of the new delight (I nicknamed it that to convince myself that it’s fun). It raises so many questions when forced to depend on something new. Though I have been very slowly raising the strength of the new drug while even more slowly decreasing the old, fear of change remains. Will this work?

So when faced with fear I remind myself to turn more directly and look to my Creator, the One who molded and shaped me in His own image. I must trust Him to see me through this fear-filled time and carry me safely to my next great adventure.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, May 2012

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He Will Renew My Strength

“But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”  Isaiah 40:31

 

I waited. I hoped. I prayed. I tried to be patient. I was afraid I was too weak. Sometimes I wondered if I would ever be able to do it again. It’s been 3 months since I have felt secure enough to run alone. I missed the calm of my solo runs. I longed to soar like an eagle on a windy day.

It’s been 3 months since I felt that weird feeling in my stomach that I recognized as trouble on the horizon. I looked at my image in the rearview mirror and saw the twitching in my face and neck. I felt it moving down my shoulder into my arm. I felt the numbness in my face and lips and I knew what was coming. I got off the road immediately and turned the car off, pulled the keys out of the ignition and put them in the seat beside me and let nature take its course for the next little while. I’ve learned to handle life’s emergencies and not freak out. Hey, I don’t mind sitting on the furniture display in a store and waiting for my husband to come and get me either. Move along people, there is nothing to see here, and by the way, don’t buy this furniture because it is not comfortable, in case you wondered.

After the seizure several months ago there were 3 more over the next month. We added an additional medication and after playing around with the dosing, I think things are better under control, but it comes with new side effects. This time I’m not the devil’s twin sister, at least I don’t think I am (no comments from the peanut gallery please), but it does make me very dizzy, very very dizzy. I’m not afraid of working out at the gym because I’m in a class setting and the instructor knows about my health condition. I run with a group and they all know about my health issues, so I am safe when I run with them. But, I haven’t been ready to run on my own. I have always carried a cell phone if I am alone, but these new meds are different and this dizziness is different and I have to be sensible.

This morning I felt good. I felt strong. The hills didn’t seem quite so steep and the mileage didn’t seem quite so long. When we got to the 8 mile mark it was time to turn left and head back in. My two runner chicks were ready to head in, but my legs weren’t, and my head wasn’t. I guess my face showed it. Sharon, who first introduced me to running in 2004, saw it in my eyes because she looked right at me and said “You are not done are you?” I looked to my right, and the only place to run is uphill, and I knew I would be running solo for the first time in 3 months if I decided to do it. Hmm…. “Yeah, you two head in and I’m turning right and running up this hill and adding on a mile.”

As I turned and began running alone I only heard my breath, my footsteps, the swishing of my arms and legs. This was so different. Even though we may separate some as we run, I can always hear others nearby, but when we go in opposite directions there is complete silence. I was alone. For the first time in 3 months I was on a solo run. I was over 8 miles into my run, solo for the first time and feeling stronger than ever, heading up the dreaded Knox Hill, because I wanted to, because I could, and loving every minute of it. WHAT?! Who said that? Did I say that?

OK. Wait for it. Wait for it. This is the moment when I remind myself that I’m supposed to buckle my seatbelt, put on a helmet and HOLDFAST for a wild ride.  “But those who hope in the LORD will renew their strength. They will soar on wings like eagles; they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not faint.”  Isaiah 40:31

On this beautiful windy February morning, God reminded me that I have put my hope in Him and He has renewed my strength. He gave me wings to soar like an eagle and I ran, and I ran, and I ran, and I was not weary, and I was not dizzy, and I did not faint.

I am blessed, because He has blessed me. It is that simple. He has blessed me.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, February 2012

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Fear. What is it good for?

A curious thing…fear. It keeps us from walking into a busy street because we know the danger of being hit. This is a no brainer. Fear the busy road. Plenty of times fear saves us from danger and harm. For example, it’s generally in my best interest NOT to shop at Target.  Driving on Sam Furr Rd in Huntersville is hazardous to your heart, health and vehicle.  I fear Target and Sam Furr Rd, so I stay away from both, thus it keeps me from danger. You get the idea.

Fear could have kept me from walking into Weight Watchers in 2004. It didn’t. Fear could have kept me from running my first half marathon in 2004. It didn’t. Fear could have kept me from walking away from my job in 2007. It didn’t. Next to marriage and having children, those three decisions have changed the course of my personal life more drastically than any other decision I have ever made. 

The familiar walls of my home keep me comfortable. The recognizable faces of my family and friends keep me in my safe place. Texts and emails make communication much easier for me. Then sometimes I think, it’s been so long now…my inner routine…, what do I fear about the outside world?

What fear is holding me, or you, back from reaching a greater potential than we might have already realized? Am I afraid of something that isn’t even worthy of fear? How many times have you finished something you feared and thought to yourself that it wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it would be? Oh, just in case you were wondering, marathons are as bad as you feared they would be, but they are worth every step, just so you know.

I’ve conquered some fears in the past, and I’ve got my fair share to conquer in the future and beyond. What lies beneath the surface? I wonder, would it bring me good or harm and why do I fear it so much? I certainly don’t have all the answers. Just thinking about fear. What is it good for?

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, January 2012

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HOLDFAST

I believe God has a plan for each one of us. I believe He wants us to submit our will to His and allow Him to reign as the Lord of our lives. He wants us to live everyday knowing Him, loving Him and trusting Him.  He has a way of speaking to us and getting our attention. Sometimes He moves rocks and sometimes He moves mountains. Sometimes He speaks softly and sometimes He speaks through a megaphone held tight to our ears. Sometimes God gives us a glimpse of His power and sometimes He parts the seas. Sometimes He knocks us off a chair to get our attention and sometimes he knocks our feet out from under us and knocks us in (or on) the head. I also know that when God moves a mountain, speaks with a megaphone, parts the seas, knocks me off my feet and hits me on the head, I better buckle myself down and hold on.

When a friend called me at the last minute with a free ticket to hear Beth Moore in Charlotte on July 22nd and 23rd, it was an offer too good to pass up. Deep down I knew it was more than just a good offer. I recognize when God has arranged something much bigger than you or I can arrange. He knows my future, so He knows what I need before I know I need it. I knew God’s hand was all over this. This was His appointment, and I was probably going to need to buckle my seatbelt again, and I might even need a helmet.

I was in an odd place in the spring and early summer. I felt disconnected and something just wasn’t right. I know now that what I was experiencing were break through seizures, but at the time I didn’t know that. I had been managing my regular routine without too much trouble, but quietly, without anyone other than Johnny knowing it, I had been in touch with my neurologist. Let me stop right here and say that my neurologist is one of God’s gifts to me. I had tried, unsuccessfully, to see her after I fell in Target. Instead I saw a doctor that I dubbed “the idiot” who dismissed me and my symptoms. After my seizure in Gymboree (I told the idiot something was wrong but, NO, he wouldn’t listen to me) an ER doctor waved his magic wand and got me on her calendar for the very next week. Several months into my treatments with her I saw her Davidson diploma on the wall. She was a Psychology Major and in fact, was the recipient of the William Gatewood Workman Psychology Award. Yep, that means she was recognized as the most outstanding senior among the psych majors. Her husband is a professor at Davidson and knows my Mom well. I am not just a routine patient on her calendar. She genuinely cares for my overall health and well-being. God gave her to me in my darkest hour. When I had given up on finding anyone who could help me, God spread His fingers and allowed a seizure to sift through so that my path would cross with a doctor who would indeed help me. My doctor, my gift, came through the pain of a seizure and God’s hand was all over it. He protected me and He protected Hunter on that September day in Gymboree.

Back to the story…

I know my doctor dreads it when I call and say “I’m just not right”. Unfortunately my brain is not like Caterpillar equipment and you can’t hook me up to a computer and have it spit out a fault code. It takes some work to just get to a diagnosis and it’s not easy or fun. When it’s bad enough for me to let Johnny and my doctor know something is not right, then it has gotten pretty bad. We had talked over the phone and she was doing bloodwork, yada yada yada. I convinced myself that my disconnection was an oddity and would resolve itself. For the last few years my Epilepsy was fairly controlled. I was keeping up with the family, the house and training for the Chicago Marathon. Surely the doctor would confirm these episodes were flukes and I would just move along.

I was not at all prepared to hear her tell me that the episodes I had were break through seizures. This was the can of worms I wanted sealed shut forever. Seizures meant the medication wasn’t working which meant changing meds which meant new side effects which meant chaos. This was not the news I wanted to hear, but it was my reality. The words of my doctor on July 27th began to drown out and the phrase that had been repeated at the women’s conference just 4 days earlier began to ring in my ears. Perhaps Beth Moore’s microphone was connected directly to my ears “H.O.L.D.F.A.S.T. God has set His love upon me”. This was the message God had given her for Charlotte, or maybe just for Gatewood. Nevertheless, because of a last minute free ticket, I was sitting in that audience on the 20th row at the Charlotte Coliseum when she taught us this phrase and asked us to repeat it until we were tongue-tied. I listened for hours as she taught and participated as we were led in worship, but I really wasn’t connecting. I noticed people tearing up and I couldn’t understand why they were teary eyed. I remember thinking that I wished I was able to feel emotion, but I couldn’t. I also remember telling myself that God wanted me there and I was going to keep my seat belt fastened until the ride had come to a safe and complete stop.

As I look back at my notes from that weekend it’s clear that I wasn’t completely present and my brain was mush. After hours of her teaching I only have 3 short pages of notes, much of it just words or phrases on different pages throughout the program. There is no rhyme or reason to my method of note-taking (this is completely out of character for me as many of you know). However, through the mush, disconnection and confusion, here is a synopsis of what I walked away with, along with my own personal reflections.

H.O.L.D.F.A.S.T. God Has Set His Love Upon Me.

  • His affection is set upon you. He loves me. HE loves me. HE LOVES me. HE LOVES ME!
  • Only He is your praise. I can not depend on the pills in the medicine bottle to contain my epilepsy.
  • Loving Him awakens your true heart. I can’t know my own heart until I fully give myself to God and allow Him to open it.
  • Doing His will does us good. He reminds me that I have turned my personal pain into service for my family.
  • Fleeing to Him means fleeing with Him. He never leaves us.  I AM with you. The I AM is with me because He loves me.
  • Any tighter embrace will also replace. I have to wrap both arms around Him and leave no room for anything else.
  • Satan wants what I have. Satan wants my faith. If my arms are wrapped tightly around the I AM, Satan can not steal from me.
  • The Lord is your life. The Lord is my life. The Lord Jesus Christ is the Lord of my life.

So, was it God’s appointment that I hear this message? Clearly YES! This message of love and hope was given to me just 4 days before I buckled my seatbelt in this wild roller coaster that I have been riding for the last 4 months. I have clung to this phrase, reminding myself to hold on to God’s love. I have looked at my bracelet that I wear everyday with the word “Believe” that I had engraved after I took Beth Moore’s Believing God class right after my diagnosis. It was and still is my daily reminder to believe God for all that I need. I have reminded myself to HOLDFAST after 3 months of trying to start a new medicine have failed miserably and I’m right back where we started with the same old meds that might allow break through seizures again. When I curled up on the floor and cried for hours for no reason I had to HOLDFAST. When my anger exploded in verbal attacks on strangers and my family for no reason I had to HOLDFAST. When I was nauseated after morning meds I had to HOLDFAST. When I couldn’t sleep because my mind was racing with thoughts of the unknown I had to HOLDFAST. When I couldn’t get through a complete day without needing a 3 hour nap I had to HOLDFAST. When I wanted to give up but I couldn’t because I wouldn’t learn the lesson I had to HOLDFAST. When I saw the looks of confusion in my children’s eyes I had to HOLDFAST.  God has set His love upon me. He will carry me when I hold on to Him.

I don’t know when the roller coaster will finally stop. I am still buckled in but I am so over this ride. My doctor says my body has been through too much to try anything new right now. She told me to “hold on” for a few months until my body has stabilized and then we will try something else. My doctor actually told me to hold on. I think I heard God giggle when she used that phrase with me, but somehow I wasn’t a bit surprised to hear her say that. God and I have a little thing going back and forth you know. H.O.L.D.F.A.S.T. God Has Set His Love Upon Me.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, November 2011

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Time Among Generations

I have received so many unexpected gifts since my Epilepsy diagnosis. The biggest gift was time.

My injuries made employment difficult and I left full-time work almost 5 years ago. Several months later my Grandmother (then 91 years old) decided she should stop driving but she was still mobile and needed occasional rides. Since I was available to help, I started picking her up on Friday mornings and taking her to the grocery store while she did her shopping. It wasn’t long before I was doing all her shopping and then going to her apartment two days a week to help with various tasks that had become difficult for her. They were easy tasks for me, but for her would take all day and wear her out.

I made up the bed, watered her plants, swept the balcony, fixed her lunch, refilled the frig with Cokes for the maids who cleaned every Wednesday and her own Diet Caff Free Cokes, refilled her Hershey’s Almond and Toffee Nuggets, opened her weekly bottle of wine, opened the milk cartons, popped open the child-proof caps on everything that was unopened, painted her fingernails and even filed and painted her toenails. Each day she would have a little list of what needed to get done. We chatted the time away with current news, updates from out-of-town family, Mom’s worldwide travels and my family adventures with growing boys. We teased each other when my noon alarm rang, reminding me to take my medicine and her to take her Parkinson’s medicine. Occasionally we would argue and accuse the other of not knowing what they are talking about. I would tell her she’s old and forgetful. She would tell me I fell. Back and forth we went. Two heads are always better than one, and with loads of humor in the midst, we would eventually get there.

Hunter was not in preschool for the last nine months before he started Kindergarten. I already had my routine in place with Emmer. She counted on me being there every Tuesday and Friday. I figured he was 5 years old and could manage to occupy himself for a couple of hours when I was there.  Just as Emmer and I had already established our routine, he quickly fell right into place and established his own routine. We stopped at the grocery store each day to pick up what she wanted. I carried the list and he followed behind with the small buggy. Eventually he knew exactly what supplies she would want and which aisle to find them. He helped me carry the bags to her apartment. I took the steps to the 3rd floor and he always took the elevator by himself (proving his independence at an early age). He peeked in the door each day and looked for his special treat, one Andes mint, always sitting and waiting for him on the dresser in the entry. He headed right for her as she sat seated on the far left side of her sofa sipping super hot coffee and reading the newspaper, cover to cover. They greeted each other, shared hugs, he thanked for the candy and then escaped to her bedroom to curl up in her recliner and watch cartoons. When it was time to make up her bed, he assumed his position on the right side of her bed and helped pull up the sheets and tuck them in tightly just the way she liked them. He carefully placed her two pillows on the bedspread and fluffed them, just before patting them down into place without a wrinkle to be found. When he heard me pick up the keys, he knew it was time to head to the main entrance to get her mail and stop at the bank. His job was to carry the keys and open the post office box. He sorted the junk mail and dropped it in the recycle box and put everything else in the plastic bag we carried. We stopped at the bank where the teller kept his favorite lollipops. He always took two, claiming one was for his brother, though I’m fairly certain Justin never actually got a single lollipop.

This was our routine. Day in, day out. This was what we did when we went to Emmer’s. We had tasks to accomplish and a correct order in which to do them. When I was taking too long he would get visibly antsy. Emmer always knew when she needed to step in and occupy his mind. She told him she was going to teach him something important that he would need for the rest of his life. She taught him how to count coins. He would wheel her walker to her and dump out some change onto the seat of her walker. She started with the basics showing him the coins, letting him hold them, study them, feel the weight, the sides and the see the color. She taught him how to identify the coin and then taught him the value of each coin. Eventually he understood enough that she began to teach him how to add them all together. I can see them right now. I would stand in the kitchen doing my chores and peek through the open shutters into the living room where he sat at her feet. His eyes for trained on the seat of her walker and all that bronze and silver as her petite hands would move them about as she reminded him what each coin was. When he got lazy and started guessing, she was quick to correct him. She would say “Now Hunter, you are guessing. Pay attention and tell me what this coin is.” He would refocus and follow her instructions. 

Two generations apart, these two connected with each other. Hunter will carry that with him forever. Had I not had the gift of time he would never have had this gift. My injury…an unexpected gift that will last forever.

I didn’t realize the impact these times had on Hunter. This week he came home from school and told me they were learning how to count money in class. “Mom, people in my class don’t know how to count money. I know how to count money. My Great-grandmother taught me how to count money. Not my Grandmother, but my really really old Great-Grandmother. Most people don’t have a Great-grandmother, but I do and she’s really old. We used to go help her when she lived in her own apartment. She taught me how to count money. She would ask me how much an orange drink cost at Cashions. It’s always been .69 but she never remembered that. She always asked how much my favorite drink was and sometimes, if I had done well with my counting she would let me count up to .69 and take it with me to buy my own drink. But we had to get enough money without using the quarters. She kept the quarters for playing bridge with her friends, so we had to count up enough dimes, nickels and pennies. Sometimes if it was a really special day she would give us enough money to go buy Happy Meals for lunch. I loved that! Oh…..how I miss those days.”  Then he smiled, propped his chin on his hand and stared out the car window.

I smiled too, knowing that he had a treasured gift. Those nine months gave him memories that will live with him forever.  A life-changing injury gave all of us gifts. The gift of time for each other. The gift of time among generations. I will treasure these gifts, for generations to come.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, October 2011

Hunter in 2009 shopping for Emmer’s supplies