Chapter 30 (Easton)

June 18, 2025 / Callie Page / 0 Comments

My most painful experience in this lifetime has been the loss of my nephew, Easton. Easton was a beautiful, wonderful child. He became sick at the age of 11 months and fought a genetic disease for the next year and a half. He was a sweet, tough, amazing little boy with eyes bluer than the sky itself.

He loved frogs, and if you’ve seen my frog tattoo, I may have told you the story behind it. (if you haven’t heard the story, ask me about it the next time you see me.)

We were connected, him and I, in this world and in the next. Sometimes when I think about the relationship that we had while he was here, it breaks me that I didn’t hold him more. It makes me terribly heartbroken that I won’t get a chance to be an aunt to him any longer on this side of heaven.

However, my relationship with Easton grew in its intensity after he left us. I remember my first dream about him like it was yesterday. His face and the way he hugged me will be burned into my heart forever.

Easton also inspired me to write. His first push was a poem. Things grew from there, and ultimately he led me to write this blog, but I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me explain my experience with loving him and losing him.

When I first realized that Easton wasn’t going to get better, and that we were going to lose him, I was pissed. Excuse my language, but there isn’t a better word for it.

I remember being in the hospital with family all around. I remember the crying and the comforting. I remember the hushed voices and the process of letting go, but I had none of that in me. I was just so mad.

My anger stemmed from a few places. I couldn’t understand, at all, why a child would ever be subjected to going through the pain and turmoil he’d been through. I was mad that my life was, in that very moment, changing forever. (I had no idea how much, but I could feel it just the same.) I was angry that my sister had to be torn to pieces and that her heart would never be able to be the same. I was angry that my kids and nieces and nephew had to lose the sense of innocence that comes with being a child. I was pissed they had to lose a life with Easton.

I was mad that my heart was broken and that, I too, had to lose a life with my sweet and precious nephew.

The next 12 years would be a process of letting him go, and a process of learning a new way to “be” with him. In the beginning I felt a fog around life. I didn’t process much for about 6 months. The first time I had a dream about him, I was eviscerated. The 2nd, 3rd, and 20th times my evisceration lessened and my aching for more of those moments grew.

12 years later, my ability to “see” him in my day to day is ever present. He is everywhere I am and his love is something I can feel every time my husband and I take a step closer to our dreams.

Easton pushed Brad and I to a life of stepping outside of our comfort zone. His life, and his death, showed us that this life is precious, but the next one is even more so. Anything that we do here in this life, pales in comparison to what we get to witness and be a part of in the next.

God made Brad and I Easton’s family for a very specific reason. Easton had a story to tell, and we were blessed enough to be able to listen up close. God knew that little curly headed, blue eyed boy would capture our hearts like no one else could, and He allowed us to be a part of Easton’s story.

We keep his spirit alive within us each time we ignore our fear and embrace our faith.

Chapter 29 (The Speech)

June 11, 2025 / Callie Page / 0 Comments

A big part of my story is failure. I’ve failed more times than I can count, but I’m going to tell you about one of them specifically. Now, I want you to know that I don’t want to tell you this story because it’s embarrassing for me. However, it’s a part of my story and it has created, in me, a different way of looking at things. I would say that it’s definitely a defining moment in my life’s trajectory.

One of my biggest dreams in this life is to be a speaker. I love words. I’ve always loved words, and I’ve always loved speaking love and acceptance into people’s lives. I have always been very passionate about telling people their strengths. I promise these are not things I make up, these are genuine characteristics that I pick up from individuals and society as a whole. I’ve always had this burning desire to tell people that I notice them, and that I appreciate them for the cool things I see humans do.

Call me weird, it’s fine. I know that I am. But this characteristic about myself has been one of the most important things to me for as long as I can remember. In fact, there’s not a trait about my personality that I connect more with.

Now to the failure. I was asked to be the guest speaker at my high school graduation about 15 years after my own graduation. I was ecstatic. (Don’t be too impressed here…I went to a VERY small high school- there weren’t many people to choose from.) I had a million things to talk about but I knew it could only be a 5-6 minute speech so I had to narrow down my field of discussion. I went to bed countless nights thinking about what I was going to focus on.

I came up with 4 or 5 different speeches. I typed them all out, and read over them carefully. I made the decision that I would have them all prepared and speak on the one that made the most sense to address on that particular day. I went into the graduation with all of them in my head. I had no notes, and no written speeches with me because I had decided that I knew the material well and I didn’t want to sound disingenuous. I didn’t want to read, I wanted to speak from the heart. My intentions were good.

I had forgotten that even though my high school graduated no more than 40-50 kids each year, the graduations were unnecessarily long. I’m talking 2.5-3 hours. It was crazy. Everyone and their dog gave a speech! By the time it was my turn to go, it had already been an hour and none of the graduates had even gotten their diplomas yet! I looked out into the audience and I noticed an older lady, maybe a grandma, trying to calm a 3 year old who’d already been sitting too long. I noticed the audience, fanning every face in the crowd and the look of “let’s get this over with” on each person’s face.

My mind went blank.

I remembered nothing about what I wanted to talk about AND I had no notes. Oops. I remember mumbling something about choosing your own path and not the path that those around you want you to choose, but the speech only lasted a couple minutes and it was horrible in its delivery.

I was mortified.

I hurried off the podium, and sat with a reeling mind for the next hour and half until the ceremony ended. Not only was I embarrassed in front of my hometown, but my family also went so that added disappointment for me. I was proud of the material I had prepared and I told them that before the whole thing happened, but they didn’t get to see the good stuff. I had really screwed up, but mainly I was upset with myself. I let myself down.

I made a promise that I would never again allow myself to do less than the very best I could do. That meant, notes, preparation for all circumstances, and a commitment to my standards no matter what I read on the face of the crowd. I would deliver my very best no matter what. I never wanted to leave another function wondering if I could have done better. I promised myself that I wouldn’t be intimidated by what was going on around me, but rather be the best version of me that I could be.

That mentality stays with me. Even though I was (and still am) super embarrassed by my performance, I learned an extremely valuable lesson. I needed that experience. I needed that grit to get through the life I would choose just a few short years later as an entrepreneur.

God’s plan was perfect. I should stop being surprised by that.

Chapter 28 (The Need to Explain)

June 4, 2025 / Callie Page / 0 Comments

Our society tells us who and how to be. We get signals from all over our world. Sometimes our parents tell us, point blank, how to act. Sometimes we get subtle cues from our friends. And for the past 30 years we’ve been getting visual clues from the internet world that surrounds us each and every day. Whether we resist or not, we are being told, CONSTANTLY, who we “should” be.

It’s exhausting.

A bigger house, a nicer paint job, a better car, a new uniform for our kids’ new sports bag, highlights for our hair, a more up to date kitchen, a more present friend, a more luxurious vacation for our facebook profile pictures, all of these things are constant expectations for all of us. It becomes a part of our budget, both for our money and our time.

One of my daughters got rid of her snapchat only because people could see where she was at all times. She often wanted to stay home just because she’s a laid back personality, but she wasn’t feeling like it was acceptable for her to just be home. She felt an expectation from her peers to be doing something. Anything that was public was acceptable, but it was even better if it made a good picture to post. She couldn’t take it anymore.

I can’t take it anymore, either.

A lot of people who know me would describe me as an extrovert. I’m outgoing, I LOVE people, I even own a concert venue and coffee shop! The very nature of the things I’ve created in this world are very social experiences. You might assume that I’m an extrovert, but even if I am, there is a piece of my soul that runs on peace and quiet. I crave alone time. I LOVE stillness.

For me that means no phones, no beeping, no buzzing, no tv, no music, just stillness. It soothes my soul. I can’t live my life without quiet moments like these.

I can’t have a moment or two of silence with my phone next to me, that doesn’t count. It feels as if I never felt the silence. It has to be truly silent with zero need to react to anyone or anything. I know it’s weird, but it’s required for me to be me.

If you can’t reach me by phone, or text, or carrier pigeon, it’s because I’m taking some alone time. Yes, I get made fun of ALOT for this. I’m deemed “the girl who never answers her phone, the girl who never calls me, the girl who never responds”.

I’m sorry for that, but really, I’m not.

It’s a choice I’ve made. It’s just the life I need to live or I can’t be the me that I’ve come to like. I’m sorry this is an inconvenience. I’m sorry if it hinders your life in some way, truly, I am sorry for that part. However, I can’t operate in my fullest capacity if I don’t. And my first priority from here on out is to be the person that God created me to be. Of course I don’t know exactly what that is, but I see it as my job to seek that clarification. I need silence for that.

I understand if you don’t feel loved by me when I don’t respond, but just know that, on my end it has nothing to do with that. Please know that I’m doing the best that I can with the knowledge I have to be the best version of myself that I can be. It has nothing to do with you, or how much you mean to me, or your value in my life.

I just want you to know that. It’s important to me that you know because you are a part of my story, and I care about you. I’m sorry that we live in a world where we feel like we have to qualify our down time.

Just know, you are valued by me no matter what my response rate is.

Chapter 27 (The Influence)

May 28, 2025 / Callie Page / 0 Comments

Oh the perils of social media. And yes, I do understand that you are probably consuming this content because of social media. The irony is real.

Much like the topic of parenting, I could write 100 blogs about social media and the influence it has on all of us, but I’m hoping this blog isn’t that. I’m hoping this blog post illustrates a reality for me currently that is adding to the story of my life and how I’m experiencing it.

My 17 year old daughter just told me about “sephora girls”. Have you seen that trend? The premise, I guess, is 10-12 year old girls making Tik Toks about going to sephora, having all the “cool” things that they’ve accumulated and then basically showing the world that they have them.

My heart hurts when I think of this.

What were you doing when you were 10? If you are 40 something or even older than that, I could probably guess what you were doing. You were playing outside. You were playing with the neighborhood kids or doing chores or riding your bike. And during the winter you were watching a sitcom or reading a book or trying to pass the time with a board game.

We would have been doing these things not because we are the greatest generation or because we didn’t get on social media and rot away our brains, we did these things because WE DIDN’T HAVE THE OPPORTUNITY TO BE TEMPTED BY ANYTHING ELSE.

We can’t act superior to the younger generation. It’s not their fault that these technological advances exist. It’s ours. Our generation created this thing that we can’t let go of. We created this crutch we can’t live without.

It has affected them.

First and foremost, I’m sorry. Secondly, what are we going to do?

The reason that this trend was brought to my attention is because my daughter was discussing the “sephora girls”, and feeling really guilty and sad about her role in it. She was in a sort of panic that her “hauls” on instagram or the videos she consumed of her generation showing the world all of the material things they have, had led to young kids spending all their time and attention on becoming like the “big girls”. She was mortified. She was almost in tears.

This is why this experience affects my story…

As a mom, I want to tell her that life is more than material things and status. I want to tell her that the mistakes my generation made with her generation and how that will hopefully be undone with the next generation. I want to tell her that everyone will find something other than material goods and societal acceptance to base their life on. I want to say that phones and social media will become less and less important because we will eventually focus on what matters about this life, and that there is something much deeper and more important to fill your soul with.

I want to tell her all of these things. I want to reassure her. But…I spent 39 years of my life chasing the same material things and status. I’ll always be the mom she knew (before I knew Jesus, and thus, the meaning of life), as well as the mom she knows now.

I’ve messed up. I didn’t intend to, but I did just the same. There’s only one thing I can do at this point to reverse some of the damage I’ve caused.

I must live differently.

Chapter 26 (The Phone)

May 21, 2025 / Callie Page / 2 Comments

It’s a cell phone world we live in. Parenting cell phone kids is not easy, but “parenting” ourselves in this cell phone craziness is potentially more difficult. I could write a hundred blogs on cell phones, mental health and parenting, but I guess I won’t stand on my soapbox in this forum. I’ll just tell you my story in regards to these little computers attached to our hands.

Brad and I decided to give our teenagers a phone right before their freshman summer. They were 14 at the time. It was not a popular decision with our kids, but we stuck to that plan (they wanted them earlier, we wanted them later). We assumed they would need a phone during summer high school sports activities and it would make it easier on us to be able to text them for those things.

Was that the right choice? Was it the wrong one? I don’t know. I still don’t have a positive feeling about it all these years later.

The problem is that the mental and physical attachment to phones are not only with our children, they are taking over the adult population as well. It’s not just a “kid thing” to be addicted to our devices. In fact, I think I make the problem worse for my kids because they see me model phone attachment behavior. I often wonder how much better they’d be able to deal with the need for their phones, if I could let go of mine.

I’ve made the excuse for years that the reason I have a cell phone is because I’m a business owner. I’m wondering if that’s just my crutch.

Having an addiction to anything is not the life I want to live. And yet, as I’m sitting here typing, I have my cell phone sitting beside me just in case someone needs to get ahold of me. Now, I’ve adopted the practice of putting my phone on “do not disturb” almost exclusively, but even with that practice, I still need to check it more often than I’d like.

Why is that?

For me the need to need something is exhausting. I value the feeling of freedom. Real freedom. The kind of freedom that isn’t dictated by something or someone else. When I have a device next to me to interrupt my life, and expect my response, I feel like I’m always “on”. I feel like I always have to see a person’s text and respond. I feel like if I don’t respond, they might assume that I don’t love them or care for them, and I can’t think of anything I want less than that.

But…that’s not fair.

If that is fair, then my life belongs to societal norms. Other human beings are responsible for my happiness. If their interpretation of my missed response is less than well received, then I tend to feel terrible about myself and that affects the way that I live. The social anxiety of that situation is exhausting to me.

I work in our coffee shop everyday, and mostly I hear this, “Man. I’m tired. Life keeps going faster and faster. I kind of miss the whole quarantine thing. No one expected anything of me during that time. We couldn’t go anywhere or do anything. It was nice.” If I’m being honest here again, I have had the same thought several times.

Could it be possible that we are doing this to ourselves? Is it possible that our constant need to be “on” and reacting in ways that are deemed socially acceptable is too much for our mental health? Is it possible that the way we are living is sending a message to our children that we would never want them to adopt for themselves?

I’m afraid it’s possible.

Reclaimed Living

Chapter 30 (Easton)

Chapter 29 (The Speech)

Chapter 28 (The Need to Explain)

Chapter 27 (The Influence)

Chapter 26 (The Phone)

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