He had filled out his order sheet for a "free" adventure packet a few months ago. He checked the mail, which is big time, and found one of The Highlights Magazine advertisements and proceeded to fill out all of the information needed on the card by asking each line item detail throughout the day. I didn't associate his questions to the fact that he was filling out a form until he later explained to me that he had mailed the form and was anxiously anticipating the arrival of his adventure kit. That is a little glimpse into how things work around here. I wasn't even sure if I should take it all seriously until I realized how important it really was to him. So we made a trip to the post office in desperation to see if they had somehow misplaced it. Which lead to complete and utter dissappointement, followed by a heartbroken melt down, which I wholly participated in. Later that day, an online inquiry to "The Highlights People" produced a real life adventure kit that arrived in the mail box two days later. Addressed to "Camue", but none the less, safe and sound in good paper form. I could kiss those folks. Whew!
Camble was unsettled though. He enjoyed his adventure kit and invited a buddy over to share it with him but he didn't let the spelling of his name slide. It has become a subject of disturbance for the whole household. Whichever level of empathy you choose to participate in is your business but it has come to all of our attention several times the fact that his name is clearly spelled wrong. Clearly. With all of our varying approaches to dealing with it or encouraging different methods for him to cope with it, it was Morgan who pointed out the historical likelihood that .... "They probably just spelled it wrong because you filled out the form wrong."
So, Camble has spent the last week trying to come up with a solution to correct the problem. His accountability should produce an equal accountability. He sat down yesterday after school, in the middle of dinner, before wrestling practice and after wrestling practice with a card he was writing to fix everything. Considering he is not even decided on how he is referring to his own self these days, he provided the correct spelling for both of his names "GARRISON" and "CAMBLE" several times on the left side of the card. He would be happy with either one, just please know that .... "My name is NOT Camue. Thank you. GARRISON. CAMBLE."
He found $.75 and reminded me that nobody knows what the cost of a stamp is in this house and we are all out of jam to bribe Tom, the mailman, with. Which is the sad truth.
So, this morning I am down on my hands and knees, mopping the floor under Camble's seat at the kitchen table and I am thinking about how blessed I am to know this boy, intimately. I'm realizing that as I'm scrubbing this silly floor that I invested my time and effort and energy into to purchase and help build and now it is under my feet everyday, just as I intended it to be, and I take it for granted until I get the opportunity to get down on its level and be intimately reminded of what it is and what it's represented to me. Every little dent and crack. I know them. The floor can't talk for itself and so I think of little Camble trying to defend his significance. I think of how important it was to him to get the record set straight. Even though he isn't sure if he is Camble or Garrison right now he knows he doesn't want to let somebody else define him as somebody he knows he is not.
That makes me think of the times in my life people have tried to define me as somebody I am not. Did I have the opportunity and the courage to set the record straight? Trying to identify and see yourself in your children makes you look back into your own experiences to try to relate but, even better, for me, it provides an innocent and inspirational glimpse as to what it could have been and should be like. I find that pretty smile worthy. But they are their own selves and just as many times as I can identify with my children's experiences I can also look at their situations anew and realize it has nothing to do with me or my own history but is helping me to see and accept the simple, uncomplicated truths of how things are. And I learn everyday from that. From them.
I think of the times I have been misguided and judged people because of my intentions to make sense of them and it all provided a means to an end. A clear little clean cut description I could check yes or no to. Children help you to see that life is messy. And long. I used to tell myself life was so short and I could consequentially excuse a lot of things with the justification that "Aw well.... life is short", .... but it's not. It is long. Broken down and measured by years, months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and ultimately the moments that prove to be meaningful. And children help to shape the infiniteness of it all. They are these little supernatural, incredible beings in the flesh and simultaneously fragile and being able to recognize that will call on parts of you that you never knew existed. Look into the eyes of a child and tell me all things are not possible. That's when you really get a chance to know who you are and what you're made up of. Guts and all.
One day you wake up in yesterday's clothes and you have chickens to feed and you're surrounded by orchestrated chaos and you feel like an Olympic hurdler for overcoming the monumental obstacles life is throwing at you and yet you have this spirit of gratitude wash over you because you're going through it. You get to. Here it is, struggle and all. This is your life. How you choose to deal with it is going to give your kids their reference points. Or some pretty memorable stories. The choice to take an interest in people and engage, even when it's ugly and messy and to keep showing up. The choice to try, everyday. Well, most days. Some days you're lucky you know how to make good soup and they feel obliged to stick around. More than the soup, it's the family you choose and create and the relationships you build with them that in turn builds you. And it isn't really about knowing who likes whipping cream in their cocoa. That is a handy fact. But it's about learning understanding and peace from your oldest daughter, truth and strength from your youngest daughter, tenderness and vulnerability from your oldest son and patience and sincerity from your baby boy. And that isn't what defines them as people, but it is what has helped to define you. It's important to make no mistake about that.
I'm feeling blessed that Camble has the courage to express himself. I'm feeling fortunate that I have had chances to not let myself be boxed in by other peoples need to define me. And I'm entirely grateful for these kidz who teach me every day all I need to really know about life and how to make love have everything to do with love.
Tammy
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