WELL& JOURNAL

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES As Pastor John lifted the youngest among us so she could be closer to the puppets during the children’s message this morning, I was reminded of Matthew 19:14: “But Jesus said, ‘Let the little children come to me and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.’”In that simple act, I was reminded that we are given opportunities every day to lift others up in big ways and small. May we choose to care, just as Christ does.

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES After a long day of traveling, I do not have much capacity to write. But soon, I will, and I know my words will meet me there. 

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES These past two days have been full of learning, laughing, and leaning into leadership with some of the best in the business. The NCMPR Leadership Institute is a reminder that communication is not just about messaging, but about connection. I am grateful to grow alongside the entire group, including fellow Kentuckian Whitney Walker, director of marketing and communications at West Kentucky Community & Technical College. This group amazed me with their care for students, strategy, and storytelling.

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES Today, I attended my first session of the NCMPR Leadership Institute. We learned about values, challenging assumptions, listening with intention, and so much more.  The chance to connect with professionals in our niche was a unique opportunity for which I am incredibly grateful. Although our experiences and backgrounds differ across lines of geography, age, and other demographics, we share a commonality: our love for helping students.  That shared purpose created instant connection. As we explored topics like courageous leadership and reflective practice, I found myself not just taking notes, but taking stock: of who I am, who I want to be, and what kind of leader our students deserve. Today reminded me that good leadership is not just about strategy; it is about heart and listening to understand, not to reply. It is about making space for others and questioning the assumptions we carry, even the ones about ourselves. I am walking away inspired, challeng...

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES We left Shoulderblade early this morning, with Papaw up front and Will in the back, half-asleep with a technology-filled duffle bag.  It was a long drive, but the weather was good, and we made decent time. Papaw has traveled plenty, but this was his first time in D.C.  He mostly looked out the window and made little comments about the roads and how many cars were out. We stopped a couple of times for food and gas; it was nothing fancy. Once we hit the edge of the city, the traffic picked up fast. I had both hands on the wheel while Papaw tried to help me spot the exits.  We got to the hotel, parked, and checked in without much trouble. After being in the car all day, it felt good to sit still. We made it. 

 BY WALLACE CALEB BATES There is something quietly powerful about a good documentary or nonfiction series. Unlike fictional tales built to entertain, these stories ground us in reality. They take what is real and present it in a relatable way. A good documentary does not just present facts; it shapes them into a narrative that moves you. It teaches without preaching, reveals without forcing, and stirs empathy for people and places you have never known.  Whether it is a deep dive into Appalachia's coal country, a forgotten artist's rise to relevance, or a small-town scandal that reveals something bigger, nonfiction storytelling has a way of making the world feel both larger and more intimate. And when it is done right, with clean visuals, honest interviews, and deliberate pacing, you will find yourself changed. You may carry someone's story with you. That weight is the greatness of a good documentary: it not only informs, but also connects. In a world loud with opinions, a g...

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES Some nights, I do not have the words, energy, or even the guilt about not doing more. Just stillness, and maybe that is the lesson. We live in a world that runs on more: more hours, more hustle, more proof that we deserve to exist in the rooms we have already been invited into.  But the truth is: rest is not a reward. It is a requirement. It is not what comes after you have earned it; it allows you to keep going. Even God, after six days of creating everything we know, took the seventh day to rest. Not because He needed to, but maybe to show us we would. So tonight, if you feel tired, let that be reason enough. You are allowed to pause, breathe, and sleep. The world will keep spinning without your overthinking. And tomorrow? Tomorrow we rise. But for now, we rest. 

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES Will was telling me about his schedule for 7th grade, his first year at middle/high school.  It’s the same place where I once walked the halls with an overstuffed binder and way too many emotions.  It may not be the same as Sebastian Middle School (nothing ever will be), but so much of the experience will be similar.  Hearing him list off teachers’ names felt like flipping through a yearbook I still carry in my head.  I would not go back to 7th grade for anything. That age is all elbows and big feelings.  Regardless,  I am so thankful Will gets to grow up in the same small town I did, with familiar hills, familiar hallways, and some of the same adults still showing up for kids like they always have. I know those teachers. I have seen the way they stay late to help, carry snacks to their desks, and notice the quiet kids.  There is not a lot of glamour in rural education, but there is so much grit, so much grace, and a kind of...

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES Tonight, I sat in a rocking foldable chair in a field at River Caney and watched one of the most breathtaking fireworks displays I have ever witnessed. There were no stadium lights, no loudspeakers, and no city skyline in the distance. Just the hush of an old mountain holler, the sounds of neighbors catching up, and the sudden, brilliant burst of light across a night sky that felt both sacred and alive. River Caney is not a place one passes through quickly. It asks for your attention, your stillness, and your respect. In July 2022, this same community was devastated by historic flooding. Water tore through these hills and hollers, taking with it homes, livelihoods, and the lives of neighbors. What was not taken, though, was the spirit of the people who live there. That spirit was alive tonight. You could feel it in the way folks parked in every available spot to see the show. You could hear it in the laughter of children who never stopped asking, "When is th...

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES There is nothing like putting on new glasses for the first time. That moment when everything snaps into focus: the floor, the ceiling, my face. I picked up my new pairs this week. They're both tortoiseshell frames that make me look like I know things, or at least like I read closed captions with confidence. The second I put them on, I could see the texture of the walls, the couch fabric, and my pores, a little too well, honestly. I look a little different. I feel a little different. Mostly, I feel like myself. Just sharper. And I can see.

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES Most days, I live three different lives. The first starts in the morning. I wake up, get dressed, and go to work. I answer emails, attend meetings, and try to help others. This version of me is focused and professional. The second life begins after work. I take care of things at home, help family, and work on school assignments. I might run errands or check in on someone. This part feels personal and essential. The third life comes late at night. I sit down to read, write, or think. Sometimes I do nothing at all. This is when I feel the most like myself. Many people are doing the same thing: living more than one life in a single day, working, helping, learning, and caring. If you feel tired, it does not mean you are weak. It means you are doing a lot. And that is something to be proud of.

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES There is something beautiful about a messy desktop. Not careless or lazy, just busy, full, and in motion. A cluttered screen is a sign that work is happening. A folder named “Updated Final Version” sitting beside one called “Use This One Maybe” does not mean you are behind. It means you are thinking and building, not afraid to start before everything feels perfect. We are taught in leadership development to stay organized, keep our space clean, file, sort, and archive. I understand the value in that, but there is also value in the mess. The cluttered desktop, covered in screenshots, drafts, and ideas, reveals that my work is evolving. A clean desktop might mean the work is done, or it might mean it never began. A messy one means I am in the middle of it, and that matters. So I am not embarrassed by the mess; in fact, I am proud of it. It is a record of effort, a proof of momentum. This is what progress looks like in real-time.

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES Every few months, I remove the old blades from my electric razor and snap in the new ones. It only takes a minute, but the difference is real: a smoother shave, less tugging, and no more working harder than I need to. It always reminds me that sometimes we keep using things that technically still work, even when they are slowing us down. Whether it is a dull mindset, a worn-out routine, or an outdated habit, maybe all we need is a little renewal. Today, it was the razor. Tomorrow, who knows?

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES TYRANT has been out for a while, but I am still spinning it like it just dropped. Something about it keeps pulling me back in. The beat hits hard, sure, but the lyrics get under your skin. “Hangman, teach me how not to cry.”  That line lives rent-free in my head. It is cold. It is raw. And it says everything about what it feels like to be betrayed, controlled, and expected to smile through it. The song is heavy, but it is honest. It is about reclaiming power after being pushed too far. And maybe that is why I keep coming back: it reminds me that being done is not the same as being broken. So no, I am not over TYRANT. Not even close.

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES This morning, Pastor John Bunn led us through Matthew 25:35-40. Jesus describes a life of compassion: feeding the hungry, welcoming the stranger, caring for the sick, and visiting the forgotten. And then He says, “Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.” That verse stayed with me throughout the day. At dinner tonight, I sat with a grandmother, her daughter, and her adult grandson, who lives with special needs. The grandmother shared her love for him. She wants him to be seen, not just served. Their family reminded me of the many people who move through this world unseen. People whose needs are real, but who are often overlooked. People who matter. We live in a time when this truth is often forgotten. But Matthew 25 reminds us that heaven does not forget. Jesus does not ask how impressive our resumes are. He asks whether we fed the hungry, welcomed the stranger, comforted the sick, or noticed t...

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES I spent my day with family, eating fried chicken, watching fireworks, and soaking up the kind of summer air that feels like a deep breath.  It was simple, joyful, and precisely what I needed. As the sky lit up, I thought about this place we call home.  For all its flaws, our country is still full of endless potential to grow, to do better, to live up to the promise it keeps reaching for. Tonight reminded me of that. And it felt good to believe in it.

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES I love our country because of the people who are actively working to make it better. I am filled with anticipation for those who will show up, speak clearly, and extend a helping hand to their neighbors.  People who believe in something greater than themselves: the idea that freedom will reach everyone, that opportunities will be shared, and that progress will be within everyone's grasp. This responsibility does not belong to just one group, one party, or one person. It belongs to all of us, Democrats, Republicans, Independents, and everyone in between. As we look toward the future, we recognize that the journey of building a better country is ongoing, and that realization is what will drive us forward. Progress is our most significant expression of patriotism. I see it brewing in classrooms, on porches, within small-town offices, and in the quiet determination of people who are committed to doing their best.  America is not perfect, but to love it means...

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES Earlier today, I flopped onto my bed with a little too much enthusiasm, and one of the legs snapped clean off. It was not a slow lean or a warning creak. It was immediate. My Papaw jumped into action. He did not reach for a wrench or a chunk of wood. He grabbed the nearest solid object in sight: a hardback biography of The Judds. And it worked. Right now, that book is holding up the entire back corner of my bed. Naomi and Wynonna are not only country music legends from Ashland, Kentucky, but they are also the reason my sleep schedule remains intact. There is something oddly beautiful about it. Two women who carried the hopes of Appalachia onstage are now carrying the weight of my full-grown self, night after night. I will fix the bed properly. But tonight, I will rest easy, propped up by grit, good music, and a well-placed biography. Let the Judds hold it up.

BY WALLACE CALEB BATES I grew up riding in the passenger seat of my grandpa’s Trailblazer, watching him navigate every curve of Eastern Kentucky like he had helped pave the road himself. That old Chevy felt like a chariot. It was rugged, reliable, and always pointed somewhere important, even if the only stop was the IGA. Now I drive a GMC Acadia, and it feels like a full-circle moment. This vehicle is big. It has room for everything and everyone, but it still fits in a grocery store parking lot without a three-point turn. I have always wanted a GM SUV, not just for its nameplate but also for the memories it carries. Every time I climb in, I feel like I am following in his tire tracks. The only difference is I have better air conditioning.

  BY WALLACE CALEB BATES Empathy does not always look like grand gestures; it is often found in the pauses, the listening, and the willingness to understand someone else's experience without trying to fix it.  In a world that moves fast and asks us to keep up, empathy slows us down just enough to allow us to connect. It reminds us that leadership is not just about making decisions; it is also about creating space for others.  Whether you are managing a team, supporting a student, or simply showing up for a friend, empathy is what turns communication into care, and care into trust. It is not soft. It is strategic. And it changes everything.