A Message of Hope from the Birthday Blog

It's the Peace Mobile's 4th birthday, and as usual I thought I'd celebrate four years of spreading peace and hope by... Spreading more peace and hope! Enjoy!

To make a long story short, 2014 was a hell of a year. Not in the way I had imagined.

In the summer I was diagnosed with depression. If you've never been diagnosed with this, I'm sure you can imagine that it's not the most fun thing to be told. I refused to believe it at first,  but it made sense. I had trouble eating, sleeping, and I had little to no hope for my own future. I felt stuck in my own job, and I felt talentless and pointless. I incessantly worried for my grandfather and my family. My eating disorder drug me down as I tried to train for the marathon. I hit rock bottom when I cried about eating a bowl of blueberries. It wasn't that I didn't want to. I just physically couldn't. I felt sick. After that incident I sought help.

Then as autumn approached, my grandfather became more ill and eventually passed away. For awhile I felt guilty for not being there when he passed. Maybe I could have said something funny to relieve everyone of their anguish. Maybe if I had just more day with him. Maybe this, maybe that. Then one day I was thinking to myself about the events that happened, and I said, "I'm glad I wasn't there." Holy epiphany. I'm glad I wasn't there. It would have been too painful, and that's a pain that I could not have handled. I came to peace with the fact that I wasn't supposed to be there.

You know that "live each moment as if it's your last" bit? Yeah, that's no joke. I had no idea when I stepped on that ship that I would never see Papaw again. I had no idea that 2014 was my last year with him. But you know what? I always lived every moment with him, loving him with my whole heart and soul. A lot of laughter, some tears, and infinite love. I have no regrets.

I finally got on the right track to becoming healthy again-- physically and mentally. Papaw, nor any of my family members, would want me to live such an unhappy, worrisome life.

I am here to tell you that there is hope. You know that little saying, "Do more of what you love?" That's what I started doing. I started writing more. Much, much more. I began to read more. I ran when my body felt like it. I played piano to my heart's content. I sang loudly. I played my flute. I baked goodies for my friends. I laughed with my loved ones. I napped with my cat. I binge-watched Saturday Night Live.

And I felt my soul come to life again.

My writing has lead me to grow in a way I didn't realize was possible, and I'm looking at my dream job square in the face. Just a few more months of hard, passionate work, and I am positive I will get it. There is a fiery confidence in me that I didn't have before.

I beg you, if you are struggling with depression right now, please understand that there is light and hope at the end of that nasty, lonely tunnel. Please seek help if you need it. Message me if you need to. I hope you can read my story and understand that there is happiness within and you're so close to having it- I know it. It's not a simple fix, but you do have the power to change the way you look at yourself. You are strong and brave and worthy of all your dreams. Now go out there and make it happen!

Love always,

Jamie

Sherry Baby

One of the millions of things that made my grandpa great was his support of me no matter my choices. We actually had very different interests. He loved golf. My golfing skills are comical. I love music. He had never played an instrument in his life. Well, he always teased me and said he could play "the thumb." But I don't think that counts. ;) He loved the Big Bang Theory, and I hate that show. I love The Office, and he hated that show. But no matter our differences, if I was ever on a field or on a stage with an instrument in my hands, you bet Papaw was front and center. So was Mamaw and my Mom. But it's significant that Papaw was supportive because I knew that he wasn't personally interested in hearing gorgeous arrangements from the District 17 Honor Band at Ohio University. He had no interest in Wizard of Oz or Grease. He loved me though, and he wanted to support me. And that made me feel like a rockstar.

Growing up, I played many sports. I tried my hand at softball, basketball, volleyball, and track. Believe it or not, there was actually a time that I was good at volleyball. I played in middle school, and I was a starter in 8th grade. When the summer/autumn of my freshman year rolled around, I had to choose between volleyball or marching band. It wasn't really a choice. Sports are more of a hobby for me, but music is my love. When it came time, everyone knew that I was going to choose what I loved.

One day toward the end of my high school days, Papaw said, "You know, you would have been really good at volleyball." I looked at him, not knowing where the conversation was going. Then he continued, "But you're the best in the band."*

That was one of the best things I've ever heard. He accepted my talent as it was. He had no interest in changing it. He loved every sport there ever was, but he loved me more. He loved strutting around after my piano recitals and band concerts, telling everyone, "I taught her everything she knows." He loved harassing my musician friends, who grew to love him and his antics.

That spring, the concert band was playing a Frankie Valli medley, and "Sherry," was in the arrangement. That is definitely the anthem of Papaw and I. It was just a sweet coincidence. We loved singing in ridiculous falsetto voices and laughing at each other. At the concert, we started the medley, and if I remember correctly, "Sherry" was in the middle. When I started playing that piece, I made eye contact with Papaw, who was mouthing the lyrics with his signature grin. And that is when I lost all my ****. I started laughing so hard that I had to stop playing. Our beloved director Dingess looked at me, smirking and also shaking his head, you know, considering that my loud instrument had the melody at that point. Haha... Oops! It was the kind of laughter that you crave but cannot create on purpose.

I am so lucky that I was his.

Before he died, I had a few touching conversations with him about my future. When I came home for a night after the marathon, we were lying in bed and he asked, "So what's next, Jame?" It made my heart full to know that he expects big things from me. I made him some promises, and I can't wait to fulfill those.

I asked him if he would watch a show if I ever wrote for one. He said, and I love doing my impression of his answer, "Yeah. I might think it's stupid, but I would watch it anyway." And I know he would.

*To my bandies, he meant that my talent was best suited in band. Not that I was better than anyone else!

Mamaw, Papaw, and I with the trophy I got for being one of the "best in the band." :)

Christmas Mourning

The best Christmas selfie of the 2013 season

I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. The moment I freaking flip out internally over what I have to face this week; tomorrow. Tonight I was leaving work, and I decided to briefly stop in the Bath & Body Works across from my office. As I was standing in line to pay, I started panicking. My breathing quickened. I got that push, that pressure, behind my eyes. I wanted to cry, but I held it together. I don't know if it was the fact that I was surrounded by upbeat, happy people who are expecting a warm and fuzzy holiday. I really don't know what drove the feeling. But it continued as I walked to my car and on my drive home.

For the first time in my life, I'm not exactly looking forward to Christmas. I'm not dreading it either, but I simply do not feel the spirit. Christmas used to be my favorite time of the year, but now I'm kind of numbed by my loss. I've tried really hard to feel it. I've decorated, I've baked cookies (actually when I baked cookies I jammed angrily to Led Zeppelin), I've listened to the appropriate music, watched the right movies. But I've realized I'm just going through the motions. Don't get me wrong, I am so excited to give to my family and be with them, but it's the loss that hurts so much. My grandfather had this amazing way of making me feel like I belonged, and now I have this fear that I will never feel that way again. Again, my family is fantastic. Especially my Mamaw, and I really hope that for the sake of us both that I can make this holiday really special. But Papaw had this indescribable way of making us feel loved. It had nothing to do with presents and all to do with presence.

I've always been that girl- the one who loves Christmas for the warm and fuzzies. Sitting by a Christmas tree at night, laughing with family is essential. The atmosphere has always been what I rave about. I love the crispness of the air. I love the lights, and I love the sounds; however, this Christmas, the music has been like nails on a chalkboard. I can handle Paul McCartney and Chuck Barry, but anything else makes me want to impale myself with a candy cane.

I'm so over the food. Food has been an awful struggle in the wake of Papaw's death. I have a hard time being hungry, and I rarely crave anything. In fact, I'm so over the food, that I'd like to take a pumpkin pie into the back alley and beat the hell out of it with a baseball bat. Yeah I said it.

I have every right to feel this way. I've always said that I don't care what I have, as long as those I love are with me on that day. But they won't be. And it sucks. So it's perfectly okay that I feel violent toward pumpkin pie.

Grief is a big b*tch. And she doesn't stop for the holidays.

Annual Unconventional List of Thanks

I’m thankful that I’ve learned to respect myself by cutting out toxic people who are bad for my mental health. 

I’m thankful for all the setbacks, the less-than-ideal jobs, the rejections. Negative news and situations are always hard to fathom, but I trust that I am being directed to the right place.

I’m thankful for the rude, entitled people that I sometimes have to interact with for teaching me how NOT to act or treat others.

I am thankful for my self-therapy. Sometimes my eating disorder sneaks back up on me as a coping mechanism in times of distress or pain. I use it to gain control over my life. THEN I realize that is not coping- it is self-harm. And I go back to my real activities that make me happy: playing an instrument to soothe myself, or taking a run to clear my mind. I’m thankful that I can acknowledge what is healthy for me.

I’m thankful for my friends and family who do not sugar coat anything. I love when people can be honest and realistic, but not hurtful.

2014 has been the year of the friend. I think that’s because my friends and I have finally reached the age that sometimes family members don’t understand our problems because of generational differences. I love that I have found so many friends from differing backgrounds that do not judge; they only support.

I’m thankful for the hardships in recent years that have revealed my true friends. Thanks to that, I no longer need to waste time or energy on people who do not care.

I had so many friends, near and far, cheer for me during the marathon. They celebrated with me in spirit. I had friends, near and far, cry with me when Papaw died. Some of these friends didn’t even know him. But because they love me, they felt my pain too. Those are the best friends.

I’m thankful for the friends that I consider my brothers and sisters.

I am thankful for my siblings. In my life, I’ve questioned a lot of things regarding my family life. But I’ve never questioned how much I love my siblings. I know they look up to me, so I think twice when making decisions. They make me a better person.

I’m thankful for my cousins that could easily be my siblings. Cousins are great. Mine are at least. I’m so grateful for their loyalty.

I’m thankful for my high school teachers that I still continue to teach me and help me grow. I still have relationships with my music, theater and English teachers. I’ve actually shared with them some of my most private pieces of writing that I’ve never shared with anyone else. That is how much I trust and respect them.

I’m thankful for the Knowlton School of Architecture and The Ohio State University. These institutions have given me some of my best and weirdest friends a girl could ever ask for.

I’m thankful for my Uncle Ray (“Gunkle”) who has had to break a lot of bad news to me in my life. He was the one to tell me that Ethan needed heart surgery, that Papaw had cancer; that Papaw had days left to live; that Papaw had died. Every time he had to deliver this heart wrenching news, he cried with me. I really appreciate that. He never pretended that it didn’t hurt or that it was going to be okay. He acknowledged with his tears that he is hurting too and that we can hurt together. 

I’m thankful for my Mamaw. When I come home, she makes me food, does my laundry, buys me random necessities. I don’t need her to do that. But that’s exactly what Mamaws are for, and she does it perfectly. She also fills the roles that I do need. She listens to me cry, whether that is over the phone or at the dining room table. (And that can’t be a pleasant job. I am such an ugly crier.) Mamaw is definitely one of my best friends.

Finally, I’m thankful for the time I had with Papaw. Twenty-three years was not enough for me, but I’m grateful for what I did get. He taught me how to face life with laughter. Thanks to him, from now on, whatever I do, I will do it with all my heart. He would not want me to wallow in self-pity. He never did that, even when he was dying. Even though my heart aches every day, I am taking the steps I need to live a happier and healthier life. I am thankful for his motivation.

A Small Speech for a Big Heart

"How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard?" This is a quote stated by the beloved childhood character, Winnie the Pooh. I read this quote months ago, before any of this was on our minds. But I think that's exactly why I stumbled across it. God has been preparing my heart for this a long time.

I read it one night while browsing literary quotes.

"How lucky am I to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard?"

I immediately thought of Papaw. How lucky am I? How lucky are all of us in to have known, loved, and been loved by such a wholesome and giving heart?

A few years ago at Ohio State, there was a special dinner for grandparents, and of course mine came. I surprised Mamaw and Papaw by giving a speech about them during the dinner. I asked a friend to film the speech just so I could have it, and for a moment she moved the camera on to my grandparents, watching me speak. That was the first time I had seen my grandpa cry outside of a funeral home.

I discussed how honored I am to belong to them. How lucky am I? These two really put the grand in grandparents. Their love for each other and their family is larger than life. I have learned so much from their love, kindness, dedication, and willingness to give. I truly hope that I can spread as much charity and positively impact as many lives as my Papaw has.

In the past few days I have been reminded of his charity many times. I have been really touched by people telling me stories about him. So many people have gone out of their way to tell our family how much Ray meant to them. At the funeral home last night I spoke to a woman that he hired at Logan several years ago. Through my sadness I thought, "Wow. This is really cool to hear these stories. How lucky am I?"

I was also reading the condolences on the funeral home website, and one that stood out to me the most was from a co-worker. She said, "Ray was a very kind man. He taught me a lot, but one thing that stands out to me most about Ray is that he never thought less of anyone when they did not know something, he just helped us learn." I will take that with me for the rest of my life and try to be a patient leader like my grandfather.

Something I realized a long time ago is that I will never be able to pay Papaw back for what he has done for me and this world. The best I can do is pay it forward-- I aspire to live and love as he did; as a friend, parent, coach, mentor, volunteer and servant.

I also learned from Papaw that even though you may be suffering through the hardest and darkest time of your life, that you can still find joy and peace in daily life. I will really miss him in that aspect. I will miss the simple things... Like going to Sam's Club and eating all their samples. I will miss his company when I make outlandish statements to strangers, just to see their reaction. I will miss his reactions to my outlandish statements to him. Once I asked him, "What would you do if I dropped out of architecture school to become a comedian?" He said, "Well... I'd laugh at you."

On a side note- this is kind of unrelated, but a fun story I love to remember: When I was a high school freshman, I had a crush on two brothers that were seniors. Papaw knew this. Once at a football game, one of the boys was walking in front of us, and Papaw turned around and grinned at me. In my soul I was like, "No Papaw Please, no. Just no." And then he did it. Papaw tapped on the boy's shoulder, and he turned around. Papaw said, "Excuse me. My granddaughter thinks you're hot." Although inside I was mortified, I would not give Papaw the satisfaction of embarrassing me, so I looked at the boy right in the eye and said, "Yes. I do."

Anyway, getting back on track here- Among other comments people have made to me, a popular one has been, "He was one of a kind." Speaking of boys, the other day Mamaw told me that I need to "find someone like Papaw." That's a nice thought, but I think I have better chances of finding Bigfoot.

But the comment that stands out the most to me is, "He put up one heck of a fight." That's the thing. He fought so hard. But the catch is that he didn't lose. Sometimes you work so hard for something that God gives you what you deserve. Papaw deserved a beautiful life, one more beautiful and perfect that what we could have given him on this earth. And that is what God gave him.

What My Tattoos Meant to My Grandpa

For many years I knew I wanted a tattoo. A lot of people do. A lot of people want one just to have one. Most people talk about it, but never go through with it. I knew in my heart, when the time was right, that I would do it. I even discussed it with my grandparents. Not the tattoo I ended up getting (lol), but other tattoo ideas. I knew they were disturbed, but they also trust me with my decisions about my life and my body.

In the summer, my family got the devastating news that Papaw's cancer was likely back. I really struggled to cope with this being so far away from my family. Of course, their love will always be in my heart, but I wanted a physical reminder of their love that I could see on a daily basis. What a better reminder than permanent ink? ;)

On one of my drives south, the moment happened. It was a beautiful, sunny summer day. The windows of my car were down and I was listening to The Beatles. And the song, "In My Life" came on. I love that song with all my heart. I played and sang it at a Mother's Day event once (I rarely publicly play and sing simultaneously, so that is me proving how important the song is).

Suddenly, by the grace of the creativity gods, I had an idea! What if I got my grandparents to write out the lyrics of "In My Life" for a tattoo? That is just what I did that weekend. I took Papaw the piece of paper first. Without telling them what it was to be used for, I asked, "Papaw, will you write, 'In my life'?" He was a bit confused, but complied. He even asked me, "What am I doing this for?" I giggled and said, "You'll see." His first go was a little messy, so I asked him, "Could you maybe write that a little more neatly?" His second attempt looked like it was written by Walt Disney, so I used the original. <3 p="">
I took the paper to Mamaw next and asked her to write, "I love you more."

It took me a few weeks to figure out the placement. When I had that figured out, I picked an artist that I liked and made the magic happen. I originally was going to wait until I got home to show them, but I'm really bad at hiding anything so I called them right away and told them. This was the manner in which I broke the news to Mamaw: "Hi Mamaw. Do you know how much I love you?" "Aww I love you too." "No, you don't understand. I love you so much that I got your handwriting tattooed on my body." "What?"

Heehee. The rest of the conversation with Mamaw was pretty normal. She wasn't too upset or disturbed and neither was Papaw. They were both mostly concerned that I had hurt myself or that I was going to get a disease.

The moment of reveal to Papaw, though, was one of the most touching moments I've ever experienced. Two weeks later, I was able to visit home, and I made the drive right after work. I was wearing long sleeves, so when I got there I had to change. (I had to add some drama, right?) I approached Papaw, who was in his chair (a place he spent a lot of time while sick), and asked, "Are you ready?" I leaned over him, showing him what I had done. He read it slowly, "In my life... I love you more." I watched his face as he read my arms. Then he looked at me. I really do not know how to put into words the expression on his face. It was just full of love. I could tell that he was extremely honored that I went to those lengths, not only to prove my life for them, but so that I could have a piece of them forever. I will never, ever forget the look on his face.

A few minutes later when I had moved on to other things (like convincing Mamaw that I'm not diseased), he approached me and gave me a hug that seemed to last a lifetime. He also told me he loved me. He was a loving man, but he never just "did" things that emotional. I could tell that he was still thinking about my tattoos and the meaning behind them.

Ray Thomas Redman

Ray Thomas Redman

07.31.2948-11.07.2014

Ray Thomas Redman, 66, of Mason, WV, went to be with the Lord on Friday, November 7, after a courageous two-year battle with pancreatic cancer. Ray was born on July 31, 1948 in Mason, WV, to his loving parents, the late Tom and Eulah Johnson Redman. He is survived by his wife of 46 wonderful years, Joyce Long Redman, son daughter-in-law Ray and Mandy Redman, daughter and son-in-law Lori and Wally Hatfield, grandchildren, Jamie Bailey, Mackenzee Redman, Nathan Redman, Allison Hatfield, and Ethan Redman, a special great-grand cat, Maggie, brother-in-law and sister-in-law Jan and Susie Long, and several aunts, uncles, cousins, nephews, and special friends. He is preceded in death, beside his parents, by grandson Ryler Redman, father-in-law and mother-in-law Lewis and Dorothy Long, and a special cousin Linn Ward. Ray had a successful career and was employed by Logan Corporation. He was an avid golfer and a member of the Mason United Methodist Church. As a follower of Jesus, Ray loved serving his community. He enjoyed supporting his grandchildren in their athletic and musical activities. Ray was deeply loved by his family, widely respected throughout the community and will be greatly missed.
Visitation will be Tuesday, November 11th, from 6-8pm, at the Foglesong-Roush Funeral Home in Mason. The funeral will be Wednesday at 11am at the Mason United Methodist Church.