Tag: Family (Page 1 of 3)

Chapter 36 (The Path)

July 30, 2025 / Callie Page / 0 Comments

My first panic attack was in a church building.

I can remember vividly the way my body felt. I could have jumped out of my own skin. I couldn’t sit still and I also felt like I couldn’t breathe. Things felt like they were moving too fast around me and I couldn’t get my bearings. I had to get out of there.

I ran out into the lobby to try and catch my breath. The service hadn’t really even started yet, it was just the music that sent me into that spiral.

For the longest time, I hated hymns. Loathed them actually. They made my skin crawl. I couldn’t help the way that I felt, but I always really wished I could have. As soon as I would hear them, I would either turn off the music, or leave the room. I never wanted to process the hate that I felt, I just knew I couldn’t handle it.

Fast forward 20 years, I had gotten a job that required me to drive around the state of Missouri. I loved the peaceful, quiet of the car. Sometimes I would drive 10 hours in a day and sit in silence the whole time. It was glorious. I’ve never been a person who liked a lot of noise.

Then one of the most influential people in my life passed away, and listening to her favorite music became the only way I could see her face. It almost felt like she was sitting there with me. I could imagine her hands and legs folded, her eyes closed tightly, and a small satisfied smile on her face. There was usually a small tear rolling down her cheek as well. I could see her again, if I just turned on the music.

That music just so happened to be hymns.

So I bit the bullet, as they say, and added the classic country hymns to my spotify playlist. I drove for hours listening to her music just so that I could see her face in my mind. Her presence always gave me such comfort, and I could feel a piece of that with her hymns after she had gone.

She was filled with God while she was here. He was her favorite thing in this life. Even though that kind of lifestyle wasn’t for me, I could look past it just to be in her presence and feel her goodness when I was with her. I learned that I could “look past” the music, too, if it meant feeling close to her again.

It didn’t take long for me to start singing along to every song. After a little while, the music that I once hated with so much passion became a lifeblood for me. It became as needed as the air that I breathe. The music changed my heart, and I was only able to allow that because I needed to see her again, and feel her presence.

Man oh man…That God guy, He is a genius. He led me right to Him, and I didn’t even see it coming. It’s a good thing my stubbornness was no match for His gracious heart.

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 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 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.

Chapter 25 (The Game)

May 14, 2025 / Callie Page / 2 Comments

I have to be careful when I talk about parenting because it occasionally comes out as a directive. I don’t mean to say that what we have decided to do with our children is “right”. I have NO idea if it’s right, I just know it feels right to us. That’s all any of us can do. Please don’t take my words as any kind of judgment at all. That’s not what I’m intending to do here.

On that note, I’ve screwed up too many times to count in the parenting world. Unfortunately for Ellie, my oldest, I’ve made the most mistakes with her.

One of the things that I regret the most is the pressure I’m sure she felt when it came to sports. I’ve never been one of those people that is loud at games or tells her what she did wrong on the way home in the car, but the pressure was definitely still there for her in many ways. I wish I would have been aware of that when it was happening.

Talking about sports, giving her my opinions on how she can improve, and offering to get her extra lessons weren’t helpful to her. In her head that meant, “this is VERY important, maybe one of the most important things in your life, and you need to be good at it.” If I would have known that she had the potential of feeling those things because of my words, I would have stopped immediately and then dug a hole to crawl into.

That definitely wasn’t my intention with my unsolicited “help”.

I’ve apologized to her several times for the inconsistency between my words: “sports are not the most important thing in the world. Just have fun” and my vibration “sports are so important, you must be the best you can be at them”. She says she’s heard me, and forgives me, but the guilt I feel doesn’t always leave me.

She’s in college now, and has no connection with her previous sport. The pressure is over, and I feel a little bit responsible for stealing some of her joy throughout her sporting career. I can’t take it all back, but I can make a difference in my persona going forward. My younger children have benefitted from her experience.

So if you see me at a game and I’m not actively cheering or clapping, it’s not because I’m not incredibly proud of my children and yours, it’s only because I want them to know that I don’t place any REAL importance on their performance. I’m not saying that’s how they feel, I just don’t even want that to be a possibility for how they could feel. I have a different approach now and I think it fits better with my soul.

All we can do is our best both as parents and as children. We will screw up. We will feel guilt. We will apologize. We will try again. It’s ok. We are only human.