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In Case You Didn’t Know

College freshman. Is my kid ready? Did I remember everything? Did they pack what I told them to?Will they wash their clothes? Will they wash their sheets? Did I get the right meal plan?Can they cook enough to sustain life? Do they have enough money for supplies? Will they go to bed at a reasonable hour? Will they get to class on time? Will their roommate want to grow drugs in the closet? Will they get something pierced?? Will they get a tattoo???

I am one year outside of all these questions, and a few more. Was I a wreck like many of you last year? Yep. Was I lost without my son for a bit getting used to his empty room? Yep. Did I miss the sound of his drums blasting throughout the house and shaking the windows? Yep. Was it the right thing to let him go and find the power to propel his own wings into flight? Yep.

To my mama and daddy friends as you tearfully, or maybe joyfully, pack up your kids, reluctantly releasing them into a new world, I want you to listen in to something very important. In case you didn’t know, YA DONE GOOD!

From the time kids enter our world we work tirelessly to make life the best it can be for them. We have dreams of all kinds for them. We get lost in the drama of each school year, worrying over signing reading logs, math excel, red cups during lunch, the premier of the recorder or wondering why no kid ever sees the bottom of their backpack. Then our top dog falls on the bottom of the pole again, trying to figure out combination locks, sharing a locker with someone who butterflies the lock, changing classes, elective courses, new classmates, selecting your own lunch and mom saying you can’t spend $10 on one meal. Blink three times and pat your head once. High school. Mom will be all over your case about grades and what one letter on a report card means. Blink once and touch your toes. Hold it there because they are about to start driving and we need extra blood in our brains to maintain calm. Blink two more times and pat your own back. Your child worked hard their senior year, on their senior projects, at their job, on college applications, suffered the agony of the SAT, the ACT and thrill or perhaps the agony of college acceptance or rejections. It is ok. All those little moments that seemed so bigly are now bits of a larger puzzle that is coming together beautifully.

In case you didn’t know, please remind yourself that you have taught your child well. Your child is ready because you lovingly and sacrificially placed each piece of their puzzle of life together to create a glorious tapestry. In case you didn’t know, your child appreciates all that you have done.

Now blink once and hold your breath for 10 seconds.

Did time stand still? Aw dang! We try so hard to make time stand still when our kids are young. In case you didn’t know, you gave them the courage to fly. Now, if no one is looking it’s okay to give yourself a giant hug, before you grab the kleenex and pack the car.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, August 2017

 

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May I please be me? Please?

I started blogging years ago as a means to shed a mask and be real. I needed to let my story out, I needed to vent, I needed people to understand and I needed to stop committing Facebook fraud by only showing the good stuff.  I’m guilty of saying only what I think will not be attacked because I am a people pleaser. Oh dear, I just admitted it…I am a people pleaser and often it is the thing that causes me the worst heartache.

I haven’t posted a blog in a while, but I have many unpublished drafts. I write as a means to get it out, but sometimes I’m afraid to be real. I am afraid to admit my feelings to myself more than I am afraid to admit them to the world. Before my injury, I really thought everyone was genuine and sought to bring good into the world. After my brain injury I saw the world entirely differently. My brain functions in a different way than before, and people I trusted treated me differently. Twelve years later this continues to confuse me. I can’t recall how I used to respond. I only know how I feel now. Mostly, I’m scared. I am scared of saying or doing the wrong thing that may cause displeasure or even worse, cause people to turn their backs on me. My filters are limited, and my tongue is too quick. I feel like silence is safer, but it leaves me lonely and isolated. My need to please has limited my ability to live more fully.

I feel things deeply. This place I used to view through a glass half full seems half empty. It looks more like a berry bowl with hundreds of holes leaking water. I want to be involved in my church, but there seems to be no place for me in areas where I am most passionate. Our current climate makes me crazy. I want to be involved in my local politics and improve my town, but my skin is not thick enough. I struggle with the deep convictions I feel and meeting closed doors in so many places. Sometimes I feel like the berry bowl, just draining water, except there is no fruit left in the bowl when the water is gone. Relationships that I trusted have gone and left me even more skeptical of everyone.

More than anything, I wonder what to do now? With one child in college, it feels like it is time to make some changes. I want to know how YOU face change? How do you keep from committing Facebook fraud? How do you accept seasons that take people out of your life? I have been told to let things roll off my back, but that is not me. God did not create me that way. He created a feeler and a thinker, but golly sometimes it hurts.

So there it is, in black, white and purple. I put it all, well partially, out there. This is my attempt to stop being the people pleaser. This is me, feeling lonely, broken and without a lot of purpose. I sincerely welcome thoughts you would share with me about times like these that you have experienced. You may comment publicly, message me through Facebook or email me on my blog, gcembracingchange@gmail.com.

The irony of this blog, I’m not embracing change so well.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, July 2017

 

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Happy Heavenly Mother’s Day

I don’t know why her death remains so hard for me to digest. Was it her smile, her wicked sense of humor, her facial expressions that told an entire story in one second, her never-ending need for a bed made up perfectly, her special love language with Hunter, her stubborn ways, her secret stash, her days spent reading the newspaper cover to cover or perhaps her special friendship that we discovered? I imagine it is all of these things and so much more. I just miss her.

This week I had a dream and my grandmother, known to our family as Emmer, was still alive. She was walking, without the aid of a walker, she stood a bit straighter and her hair was a little bit darker. At first glance, I did not recognize her, then she called my name. That deep voice with a southern twist was unmistakable. “Gatewood?” I fixed my eyes on her. She nodded her head and assured me I wasn’t seeing a ghost. She had just been gone awhile to get better. She was holding a bouquet of flowers and held them out for me to take. She said “Happy Mother’s Day” and I stared at her with tear-filled eyes.

I started waking up and was in that in between stage when you realize you are dreaming and coming to, but you just don’t want to leave the dream. My brain was fighting with my heart. I kept telling myself that this was a dream. The happiness I felt at the mere thought she was alive was something I could not let go of. I wanted to get out of that in between phase and dive back beneath the surface, where I could see Emmer. I remembered she would be 101 years old now and there was no way this was real. In that moment, nothing could stop me from reaching her again. I wanted to feel her presence and soak it in. I must have channeled her stubborn ways, because once again I was with her. We were sitting and talking. It was as if I were floating over my own body and Emmer and I hovered watching a conversation filled with happy tears, sad tears and a lot of her story telling, and rather opinionated facial expressions. And then it was over.

My alarm woke me up. For a split second I felt a smile on my face because I knew Emmer was alive. Gloom smacked me out of it and I realized it was a dream. I felt her loss all over again and it was intense. I almost felt angry that my dream had been so real that it made me grieve her death again.

Later in the day, as my mind continued to recall the images of my dream, I found peace. My peace came from knowing, in my innermost core, that I could not have those vivid dreams had we not had a deeply honest and genuine relationship. Sure we were blood, but blood doesn’t always connect you. What I realized was that my connection to her is just as strong today as it was when she died four years ago. Somewhere, deep down, I guess I just needed to know that she is still here for me when I need her.

Happy Heavenly Mother’s Day Emmer. MUAH!

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, May 2017

 

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Wounds

We all have wounds. Some are visible, while others run so long and so deep we think we have dealt with them. Then, the unexpected pops up and all the hurt runs hot and red all over again. In these moments I begin to understand wounds in a different way.

Coming off of Easter we remembered the brutal wounds and torture Jesus endured. As death was overcoming “Jesus said, ‘Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they do'” (Luke 23:34). Jesus had wounds I can not fathom. He endured suffering that I can not imagine, no matter how many times I read about the crucifixion. I will not know the suffering Jesus took on as “He said, ‘Father, into Your hands I commit My spirit'” (Luke 24:46). Jesus took wounds and scars for me. This makes my head spin. More importantly, this was for all of us. There is so much to take away from the crucifixion.

If you don’t have some wounds, please call me, because I want to know your secret. I have yet to meet anyone without a deep wound, born by our own freewill, born by someone we trusted, born by someone we least expected, born by someone who didn’t intend hurt but scratched the scab we thought was heeled or someone who is still walking in sin. Truth is, each one of us has the potential to hurt others because we are human. We will fall back into sinful ways, no matter our faith, because we are human. If we are seeking Christ in our daily walk, then we may catch it through His guidance and walk back looking to Christ. Sometimes the hurt is unintentional. I believe that everyone walks around with a history of hurts. The change happens when we deal with those hurts. I am a work in progress. I remember the cross. Jesus forgave those who hurt Him. He wants me to forgive those who do not know (perhaps because they do not know they have scraped the scab).

I have wounds and try as I may, I am human. In my human sinful body, it is impossible to overcome my pains without asking Jesus every single day to help me. Like a strike of lightning, in a flash, things happen that take me back to my wounds. In that moment, I realize, though I may have mentally decided that book is closed, it is reopened and the emotions and hurt rise to my surface. I can sense moving to unhealthy thoughts and decisions. Warped as my brain is, these moments bring me back to the cross, learning daily how Jesus forgave, what we think as unforgivable and He loved.

I am no expert on walking with Christ. I am still a student. Sure, I worked with the local church for over a decade, but in many ways I was too secure. My security in Christ and my need for Him to be part of me each and every day was not tested as it is now as I adventure into the world. I need Him more each day and I must ask Him each day to forgive me of my sin of holding on to hurts.

I am a visual learner.  We have friends in our church who use sign language as they sing. When they sign “Jesus” they take their middle fingers to the palm of each hand. It strikes me every single time. Jesus Christ took wounds which run from the palm of His hands to his heart. He died on the cross without anger. He asked us to forgive.

I’m working on complete forgiveness, but I think it means that I make the scab visible so that I am reminded that I must actively forgive every single day. In that, I believe my wounds begin to heal. This is the hope to which I cling as I seek him. Every. Single. Day.

Copyright © Gatewood Campbell, April 2017

 

 

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City Bus Adventures

I am not sure why I haven’t written about one of my most embarrassing moments ever until now, but my family insists this is one of the funniest things that ever happened to me, so I’m going to roll with it.

During my 2 year stint off the road I depended largely upon the CATS Village Rider system. It was always on time (which I have yet to figure out given the traffic around here) and more importantly, it could get me to and fro independently. Independence was something I treasured. I got a manicure every other week in a neighboring town, and boarded the bus outside my neighborhood and grabbed the bus home near a grocery store. Because of drop off time and pick up time, I always had a bit of free time before my manicure as well as after.

With beautifully polished nails, noticing a sunny afternoon, I sported my sunglasses and I headed to the grocery to grab some lunch to go. I perched myself on the roadside bench to eat my sandwich and wait for my ride home. In general, people don’t really talk at the stop nor on the bus. We usually have headphones in, riders are reading, texting or whatever we pretend to do so no one will engage us in uncomfortable conversation. Occasionally a rider talks on their phone but everyone stares since we can hear everything the rider is saying and that is just weird. Over the years of riding the city bus I have seen it all and I don’t think much about why the person is using city transit. I don’t assume they can’t afford a car, can’t afford insurance, don’t have a license, blah  blah blah. You get it. I had a family, a car and insurance but my health didn’t allow me to drive so I didn’t judge others…usually. I’m normal, or as close to it as possible, so I would never expect others to look at me. I thought there was an unwritten rule about riding the bus.

This day felt different from the minute I pulled out my sandwich at the bus stop. I tried to mind my own business, but somehow I felt like people were watching me. I have a problem. My face tells my innermost thoughts. My eyes tell it all. When I saw people looking at me strangely, my instinct was to roll my eyes, eat my lunch or catch up on Facebook. We boarded the bus and I sat close to the front. Still in my own world of focusing on the road and letting time pass, I couldn’t help but notice people were looking at me for an extended length of time. I glanced back, likely for longer than I should have, but I remained sheltered by my sunglasses that hid my insecurity. The bus neared my stop, I grabbed the wire to signal the stop and got of the bus as quickly as possible. I walked home, threw my keys and sunglasses in my pocketbook and life was great.

A couple of days later I headed back out into the sunshine. I reached into my pocketbook to get my sunglasses. Holy moly! One entire lens had come out of my sunglasses! My mind shot back to the bus stop and strange ride home. Glory, glory! I sat at the bus stop eating my lunch and then proceeded to ride the bus home in sunglasses with only one lens! OH MY WORD! The entire day replayed in my mind! I was responding to the strange looks I was getting thinking I was normal, but everyone else was right thinking I was crazy! I tested the lens to make sure I had not lost it completely! How could I spend half a day wearing only one lens? Much to my dismay, I realized it was doable. OH MY! Yep, I sat at a very public bus stop with half a sunglass, is that even a phrase? I road the bus for at least 30 mins making eye expressions with everyone glaring at me. I thought they were crazy and they were staring at ME because it was clear I was crazy! OH MY WORD!

If you see me out and my eyes are red, it is likely because I have been driving and poking myself in the eyes to be sure both eyes are uncovered. When I put on my sunglasses now, I almost always touch both lens to be sure I am as normal as the rest of you. HAHAHA! Don’t laugh at me, just laugh with me. We all have issues, some are just more visible than others.

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Copyright ©  Gatewood Campbell, February 2017