The Road Signs of Life: Learning From Mistakes and The Blessings of Listening

Have you ever noticed that sometimes, even though people are given a sign telling them the right lane or left lane is closed in two or three miles, people ignore the road signs they are given and continue to ride their lane until they are forced to move over? I was driving home the other day and saw the sign to merge, so I did; however, there were plenty of people that ignored the sign and pretty soon, traffic was backed up because those same people were forcing their way into the other lanes. Those people wait until the absolute last second before they merge into the other lane. I am not saying that I have never been one of those people, but it does make you stop and think why we do what we do sometimes in spite of being given warning signs.

This same concept can be applied to everyday living: to life. Sometimes, we are given warning signs. Our bodies tell us when we are getting sick, but sometimes we ignore it until we feel worse than we would have if we had listened to our bodies. Other times, we are given a feeling not to go down this alley, not to take the bus, to take a different road, and other feelings. Some call this premonition and others call it the Holy Spirit. No matter what you call it, if we listen to those premonitions, we may avoid a car crash, seedy encounters in the dark alley or whatever we may be protecting ourselves from. Or if we ignore those feelings, we may find ourselves in situations that we are uncomfortable with or could lead to injury.

Other times, the premonitions, feelings, little pushes, or the Holy Spirit guide us to blessings too. The most recent example in my own life was simply the little pushes to go to a party that my friend was holding. I was nervous and have a tendency to keep myself from going outside my own set boundaries because I don't want to be hurt, but with the little pushes, I went beyond those boundaries and met some new, amazing people and reacquainted with old friends. If I hadn't listened to the little pushes, I would not have met them and would not be experiencing the life I am experiencing right now.

Whether attributed to the Holy Spirit, premonition, the body defending itself or little, subtle pushes, the road signs of life are important and should be listened to. Like the road signs warning us of lane closures or wrecks up ahead, we are guided by something to protect and save us from events that could cause us harm, whether emotional, physical, or psychological. We are guided to new people that bless and change our lives or hurt us and teach us more than we would have learned otherwise. Sometimes, we never get to see what could have been and we never get to know what would have happened if we hadn't listened. Other times, we see the blessings and grow from the experience.

Any way you look at it, I think it is important to take closer looks at those premonitions, those little pushes, or the still, small voice because you never know what you are being guided to or away from. I am extremely grateful to the universe for the little pushes and the premonitions. I have been blessed in many ways because I chose to listen. And you can be blessed and grow too.

Namaste.

The Circle of Life: The Miracle of Nature and The Gifts We Receive

I've missed a few days, but for good reason; at least, I'd like to think it was a good reason. Dare I to hope... Anyway, I am four days behind again and am working on finding the four things that I find to be the most important at this point in my day. (Which is not to say that the aforementioned items and people aren't just as important today...) Each moment I consider all the things that I am blessed with, I am overwhelmed with the amount of blessings that I have been gifted in this life.

As winter approaches, then, I would like to say that I am grateful for Nature. I am grateful for every changing
season and for every moment that I am in awe of the mountains, whether snow-capped or full of greenery. I am grateful for the trees that produce the oxygen that keeps inflating my lungs and oxygenating my blood. I am grateful for the sun, the moon, and the stars and for the light they shine down on this minuscule planet lost in the sands of the universe. I am grateful for snow, rain, and any form of water that feeds and nourishes this planet. I am grateful that the planet continues to rotate on its axis and revolves around the sun. I am grateful for every single heartbeat that makes this planet live. Nature is a force to be in awe of and I am grateful for every single aspect of it.

That being said, I  am grateful for the roof that is over my head. I am grateful for the water heater that gives me a hot shower or a hot bath after a workout at the gym or on a cold night. I am grateful for the electricity that pulses through the wiring of the house and gives life to the inanimate. I am grateful for the ground on which the house is built and for the bed on which I lay at night. I am grateful for the protection that the house gives me against the elements when they are sweltering or when they are freezing. I am grateful, in spite of the cockroaches that creep and crawl, for the house that protects and shelters me.

I am grateful for the clothes I put on everyday. I am grateful for the warmth my sweaters and coats give in the winter and for the protection from the sun the hats give in the summer. I am grateful for safety clothing gives and the way every item of clothing makes me feel sheltered against the eyes of the world. I am grateful for the shoes I put on my feet that protect me from the solid rocks, pointy pebbles, or out-of-place shards of glass. I am grateful for the socks that protect me from getting cold feet and protect my feet from getting blisters. I am grateful.

Finally, at the close of this tenth day of the month of Thanksgiving, I am grateful for the animals that give their lives for my sustenance. I am grateful for the blood they shed for me to continue thriving in this world. I am grateful for their spirit and their life. I am grateful to the Earth for the vegetables and the fruits it produces. I am grateful to the bees that pollinate the flowers and help the plants to grow and produce. I am grateful for the hands that go into the care and harvest of all of the vegetables and fruits. I am grateful for all of these and more.

So...what are you grateful for?

Namaste.

To My Beautiful Mother on This Mother's Day

On Sunday, we have the privilege of telling our mothers how much we care for and appreciate them for every sacrifice they made in their lives for their children. We will be able to say "Thank you" to the great women who gave us life and who, at the risk of their own lives, gave us form and breath. Three days after we celebrate our mothers on Mother's Day, I get another day to celebrate the birth of my mother. And with whatever material gift I decide to give her, which is usually another flower to add to her yard because she was the one who gave me my love of all things beautiful, I've decided that I will give voice to the memories that occasionally find their way to remind me that among all the people in my life, Mom is the woman who has shown me what it is to love without condition and who taught me that love is, as the Bible says, patient and kind.

Her love for me, my siblings, her sisters, her parents, strangers, and my father has given me hope that when the darkness is at its worst and I feel like I have no one to turn to, I will always have her as my safe haven of love and light. And with these small memories, i hope to show to those who only barely know her that a goddess has blessed me with love and life. She has never given up on me even when I have made decisions in my life that she hasn't agreed with. Mother is love.

I wish I could bring memories of my infancy about, but I was not blessed with this gift; however, as I watch her care for her grandchildren, I get a glimpse of how she was with me and my siblings. She is always making sure she has cookies, Popsicles, ice cream, crackers, and healthy snack options for my nieces and nephews. She is right there to make sure they are okay when they fall. She holds them when they cry, even though it hurts her arms and back. She seeks to find resolution and peace when they fight with their cousins or siblings. And she makes sure they feel like they are always welcome with a hug, a kiss, and a welcoming smile as soon as they walk through the door. I know when I see this, all of these moments of shared affection, that when I was an infant to my teenage years, and even now, she did and does the same for me however and whenever she can.

When we lived in our old, old, old, old house, the house I was raised in and the first home I knew, Mom strove daily to make life an adventure; she strove for all of us to be happy. Though the house only had three bedrooms, and, granted I was only a child, I never felt cramped or felt like there was not room for me among my nine siblings. The boys slept together in one room, the three youngest girls in another, and my oldest sisters had their own room, while my parents had a bed in the living room downstairs. The house, at the time to me, felt massive and when I would get lost or scared in its expanse, I always had Mom to turn to for comfort.

Mom used to wear silk pajamas and a navy blue robe with colorful flowers all over. In times of fear or pain, when I needed her presence to comfort me, I would turn into a chick, hiding under the wings and legs of its mother. I would latch onto her leg and refuse to leave her side. I would hold the silk material between my fingers and rub that softness between my fingers and I would suck on my left ring and pinky fingers; I would relish in her loving, protective presence. I knew as long as I was there everything would be fine. My fears were quelled in knowing that Mom would protect me.

As I grew older, though still in diapers, I began to venture away from under her wings. I would play outside in the always manicured lawn, running through sprinklers, playing in the ditch, or hiding in the hole in the lilac bush. As Spring came every year, the flowers Mom planted would bloom and the garden that she and Dad planted would grow. I loved to see the flowers, smell their perfume, and play in the dirt from which they grew. Nothing was off limits in my play.

I knew Mom loved her flowers. I knew they added to the beauty and welcoming feeling she was trying to provide for her family and friends. I knew Mom loved them so much. So much so that one day, I went out and picked all of the blossoms of the flowers in one of her gardens and brought them to her. "Look Mom, I picked you some flowers," I said grinning. 

Though her once full flower garden had been innocently robbed of its blossomed beauty, and though it marred the outward beauty of our home, Mom didn't raise her voice and yell at me; she didn't punish me. She simply smiled and, smiling, took the gift from me. She sent me off to play once more. I'm sure she mourned the loss of the flowers in her garden, but she loved the innocent child who robbed the garden of its beauty. She showed his importance to her over the flower garden. Her children were always more important.

When I was two years old, I suffered through some agonizing pain because of a birth defect dealing with a muscle growth near my left kidney and my ureter. I don't remember much of this pain; I assume that I blacked out so many times that I forgot. What I do remember is the care my loving parents gave me. Mom says that I used to be in so much pain that I rolled around on the floor and wouldn't let her hold me until I passed out from the pain. I can only imagine what it had been like for her to watch her child suffer and not be able to do anything.

They eventually found out what was wrong and surgery fixed it. All of this is lost in memory; however, I do have one distinct memory in this time. I remember going in to get an X-ray. Mom held my hand as the doctor poked me with a needle to inject me with the iodine for the contrast X-ray. The doctor had me lay on my back on a cold metallic table; the only thing keeping me warm was the thin cotton gown and my underwear and socks. 

The doctor took Mom behind a door with a window while he took the X-ray. I remember Mom protectively watching as I shivered on the table, trying to remain still. As soon as the doctor was finished, Mom was at my side, caressing and holding my hand. She did what she could to calm my fears. She was always calming my fears and always at my side when I needed her; she never failed.

As I grew older and we moved to a new house, Mom always maintained a beautiful pristine home. She filled the house with the aroma of homemade bread, freshly baked cookies, and good home cooking. The menu was always changing, but the aromas of Mom's cooking were always inviting. I imagine the cartoon hand coming from the food and, reaching my nose, beckoning me to the dinner table. I always looked forward to Mom's cooking; I still do.

One of my strongest memories of my Mom, besides her welcome embrace that calmed my fears and dried my tears, is her guitar and her angelic voice. Mom always had a song on her tongue, be it a jingle, a hymn, a country song, etc. She was filling the world up with her joyous melodies. My love of music and the necessity in my life for music stems from the ever present musical notes that filled our home. When the aromas of her baking and cooking weren't filling the home, her melodious voice filled the void. Sometimes the mixture of the two was the most pleasant and joyous part of life as a Campbell. Mom made and makes life joyous.

In her late thirties, I'm sure due to the stress of a large family, Mom went grey. She was still very young and beautiful, but for some reason, the grey is a marker of being a grandmother and not a mother. We would be walking into the grocery store and a stranger would bend down to ask me, "Oh, is this your Grandma?" To which I proudly responded, "No! This is my Mom." I always knew that this comment from strangers would hurt her, though she never showed her hurt.

Mom started to dye her hair so that the grey didn't show and so no one would ask if she was my grandma. But, no matter her hair color, I was always proud she was and is still my mom. I always thought she was beautiful and as I grew older, I would start to ask her why she dyed her hair because I thought she was beautiful no matter the color of her hair. Eventually, she stopped coloring her hair and now she has the most beautiful white hair to match the perfection everywhere else.

There are so many memories of my wonderful mother that I could write a biography and I would still never be able to encapsulate the woman I know; the woman I am blessed to call Mom. I will never be able to do justice to her beautiful being and soul. However, as we celebrate Mother's Day, I hope to have shown parts of the woman I know and show my gratitude to her. I wish you all could know the woman I know.

To my blessed Mother, I love you with all my heart. There is only one person that can fill your spot in my heart and that will forever be you. I am blessed everyday to have a goddess like you to call Mom. No one can or will ever replace you. When my turn comes to care for you and give you comfort, I can only hope to come close to giving you what you gave to me.

In the children's book Love You Forever by Robert Munsch, the life of a child is shown culminating in the birth of his own child. At One point in the book, the young man comes into his mother's house and rocking her, the man says, "I'll love you forever. I'll like you for always. As long as I'm living, my Mommy you'll be." Thanks for being you, Mom. No one could have done it better. All my love. Forever and always, "As Long as I'm living, my Mommy you'll be."

Prayer to my Guardian Angels

Angels sent from the heavens above
Protect me with my Father's love.
Give courage to my mortal heart
From now 'til my eternal start.

Angels with wings protecting me
Bring light to the dark I cannot see
Please take them now, my fears, from me
From now 'til my eternity

Guardian angels surrounding me
Take these fears. Set me free.
Bring comfort to and calm my soul
Allow the light to make me whole.