My Three Sons

“The greatest gift I’ll leave this world when my life is done…my three sons.”

I wrote the words to this song years ago, before Charli even came along. I had no idea that all too soon, I would witness firsthand the legacy that one of my three sons would leave this world.

The outpouring of love from so many, the throes of people at his celebration of life and the killer after-party, the stories that continue to touch my heart and make me proud to be his mom…all a reflection of Chandler. He was the kind of human being you want your kids to become.

Oh, I miss him. I can’t say how much. There aren’t words for that. Maybe tears say it better. Maybe within each tear, there are a million words that describe the depth and color and feel of this loss exquisitely. If this is so, an epic novel dampens my cheeks, my pajamas, the pile of tissues on the table.

The Conversation Continues....

A few days after Chandler’s accident, my friend encouraged me to start a CaringBridge site. I didn’t really want to. Now 47 days later, I am beyond grateful for her kind urging. Each day, my heart, my thoughts, my feelings, my soul, and sometimes just my musings have poured out onto my keyboard, sometimes in a trickle, sometimes in a flood. It has been healing for my heart to process in this way.

More importantly, this has become a conversation. You have told me of your own loss, pain, grief. To hear from you that somehow my words are an encouragement or an inspiration – I truly cannot tell you what that means to me. Whatever your reason for continuing to read, I want you to know I am grateful for you. I know I’m not alone. And I see points of redemptive light through a season that can seem so very dark.

CaringBridge has been a home, of sorts, for me -- a safe place where I return each day to write and continue our conversation. But the purpose for which CaringBridge exists has been fulfilled, and now it is appropriate to no longer use that venue for daily blogging/journaling. I am really SAD to think of leaving that home. I’m actually AFRAID to leave. But it is time. HOWEVER…

I would be honored and delighted if you would join me here as our conversation continues on my website www.lisaespinoza.com. Thank you Julia for setting this up for me. Your generosity astounds me.

I will continue posting just as I have on CaringBridge. You can subscribe below to receive notifications when I post, and you can still leave comments and “like” a post.

I’m not sure what all God is up to, but for now, I just know I need to write. Thanks for being my companion on this journey. If you know someone who could benefit from this blog, invite them to come along too.

We all experience adversity, pain, loss. Going it alone never works. We are better together.

Outside the Box

Today I woke up with a sore throat, feeling really yucky. I drug myself out of bed because at 9:45, Chandler's alma mater and Charli's current school (SMCHS) was mentioning Chandler in their mass service. I dreaded the moment when they would say his name during the prayer for those who have departed. Then it would be more official. More real. "Chandler Espinoza, class of 2012." They said it.

I came home, sat on the couch, and cried. Then I went to work.

Once again, I found myself at the clinic saying to a young mom who had three little boys, "Oh, I have three boys...and a bonus girl!" I've decided it is just fine to say that. I'm not lying.

Before my last speech client, I got a text from Aunt Cho indicating she wished she had been able to be here to pick up Chandler's remains. I texted back, "Crap! I didn't know that was happening today!" My sweet husband had arranged to do that himself to shelter me from the pain. As Aunt Cho said, it's like an umbrella-in-a-hurricane sort of shelter. I felt punched in the gut. This made it more official. More real.

When I got home from work, the first thing I wanted to see was Chandler...what remained of his physical body. On a desk, in a clean white paper bag, was a box. Nothing in my mind could wrap itself around the reality that for 25 years, the contents of that box had been home to the spirit of a young man who inspired so many by virtue of his openness, his honesty, his sense of adventure, his playfulness, his passion for life, his generosity, his compassionate heart. 

Chandler could never be put in a box. And his influence is far outside the box even now.

Chandler-ness Lives On

I want Chandler to live on. Of course, I want him to just live and be back here with me in the flesh. But since that can't happen, I want his Chandler-ness to live on.

A fourth grade boy from Mission Hills Christian School who never met Chandler captured the spirit of my son as well as anyone could. He was to write a poem for a creative writing competition, and he chose to write about Chandler, a young man he had never met but who has saturated the atmosphere around him for the past 44 days.
Chandler
There was a guy I never had the chance to meet
But from the stories I’ve heard, he sounded neat
His passion for life cannot be denied 
And the light he gave off, no one could hide
Adventure was his middle name
Extreme sports was his game
Jumping off buildings and flying through the air
Something scaring the Chan Man was rare
Being athletic was a gift he had
He also knew how to cheer up people when they were sad
He had a way of making people feel like they were number one
We can’t forget that he was an amazing brother, friend, and son
I think having Chandler as a friend would’ve been great
I know that I will be able to meet him in heaven and I can’t wait
Chandler left many lessons for us to live by 
Be kind, compassionate, and in life try to fly 

Just Keep Rowing

Chip and I hung out this morning. We agreed that we both feel somewhat schizophrenic---sobbing one moment, then laughing the next. Countless people have lost loved ones. But there is only one other person besides me on this planet who knows what it's like as a parent to lose Chandler. This is our own very exclusive club...no one but us can belong. Our initiation into this club involves oceans of tears, deep conversations about the details of Chandler's 25 years, and a mutual conviction that we would do anything on earth to have our son whole and happy with us again.

Later in the morning, I ran (literally) to the store in my brand new running shoes that Aunt Cho bought me last night at Road Runner. Moving my body keeps me sane. And new shoes -- when is that ever a bad thing?

Dear friends came to help me redecorate our bedroom. Let's just say we'd had the same decor since Martha Stewart went to prison. It makes me happy to have such amazing friends.

Speaking of amazing friends....when I got home from shopping for our bedroom, several of Chandler's friends were hanging out at the house. I loved hearing their Chandler stories and just laughing together.

Not one minute of this day passed when I wasn't thinking of Chandler or holding an all-too-familiar tightness in my chest because I miss him so desperately. But most minutes were spent with people who know what it's like to lose someone or who knew Chandler and feel the unique pain of not having him in their lives any more.

I'm so thankful for God's very real and practical presence in my life today demonstrated by people who care. Even when everything in me feels paralyzed with pain and fear, God puts His arms around me, and I am able to just keep rowing.

THANK YOUs and Chandler's Video

We cannot adequately express our gratitude for everyone who made Chandler’s celebration of life a day we will cherish forever. I have no doubt that Chandler was grinning from ear to ear, showing off those dimples, as he witnessed the celebration.

First, I want to thank our family – Chip, Chase, Chance, and Charli. You each painted such a beautiful, clear portrait of Chandler. I could not be prouder of you. As I said Sunday, you are amazing human beings. I love you, and I like you.

Next, I want to thank every person who came to Chandler’s celebration of life. I wish I had been able to hug each one of you. Your presence meant the world to us. We were overwhelmed at the turnout.

Thank you to all our family and friends who flew in from out of state to be here with us and for us. I especially want to thank Chandler’s friends who flew in from Australia, Colorado, Florida, and Hawaii (I’m sorry if I missed anyone).

Dove Canyon Country Club, thank you for everything! You are so good to us. I know Chandler was happy to see everyone gathered in a place he always loved to be.

Stephanie, you did not allow me to stress for one minute about how this thing was going to come together. You listened, planned, delegated, and executed every detail to perfection.

Thank you to everyone who helped set up and take down, especially Dan & Linda, Richelle, Terry & Elaine, Cathy, Scott & Christine, Mahsan, Hunter, and Jenny.

Thank you to everyone who sent the most beautiful flowers to bless our family and grace the celebration.

Bob, thank you for a message that was inspiring, authentic, and honoring of Chandler and of our faith as a family.

Cameron Simony, thank you for sorting through countless pictures and videos sent by so many people to put together such a great video that we will always treasure. You nailed it, Cam….you nailed it!

Alec, thank you for videotaping the service and for setting up the video booth at Board & Brew for Chandler stories, even though it didn’t work out to tape the stories due to the unbelievable turnout and mad noise!

Board & Brew, there are no words. Owners Brett and Mike, your generosity in throwing the party of a lifetime for Chandler is overwhelming. Brendan and Joey and the B&B staff, you made that party happen! I know Chandler was bragging, “Those are my people right there!”

Ocean Roulette and Mitch, thank you for bringing the music so we could do what Chandler loved! I felt him right there with us.

I’m probably forgetting someone really key, and I apologize. I'm going to play the "I just lost my son" card.

It took a village to come together and make Sunday’s phenomenal celebration of Chandler’s 25 years of life happen…and happen with perfection. Thank you to everyone in our village!

LINK TO CHANDLER'S VIDEO:

https://www.dropbox.com/s/olls719wfln6osp/chandler%20v3.mp4?dl=0

(Sorry, I don't know how to attach it because it's not a YouTube video, and I don't know how to make it one.)

Hiking with Chandler Today!

This morning I went for a hike with Chandler. I wore one of his go-to sweatshirts for hiking and working out, and he was right there with me taking in the beautiful view from the Top of the World hike in Laguna Beach. This was exactly the kind of morning Chandler would have enjoyed before going in to work at Board & Brew in the afternoon.

I have always love being out in nature. But today I appreciated it even more deeply. I knew that I was sharing one of Chandler's greatest passions. That kid was never one to sit on the couch and play video games, and when he watched TV, it was usually something educational, sports-related, or artistic in nature. He MUCH preferred to be outside moving his body in nature.

Just three more days until Chandler's memorial service. I'm not going to lie...I'm scared. We are all rallying toward this event to honor Chandler -- a natural point of closure for many. But I don't want closure. I want my son back.

So what happens on Monday? Everyone goes about their normal lives, and I try to figure out how the hell to live my life without Chandler in it. I am a mother of four. Not three.

The Rose Parade and Steel Magnolias

On January 1, 2019, we were preparing to leave for the hospital. We knew it was going to be an especially tough day. The previous day, we had gone through the detailed process of making sure Chandler was able to be an organ/tissue donor so that he could be strong for as many people as possible. That's what he would want. 

I didn't even realize the TV was on because the volume was down. I guess we just had it on because that seems like a piece of normal in our house. I reached down to grab something and caught a glimpse of the Rose Parade. The caption at the bottom of the screen announcing the upcoming float read - "Donate for Life." This float featured pictures of people who had been recipients of donors. My eyes filled with tears, and I said to Charli and Aunt Val, "That's what I needed to see."

Around 4:30 New Year's Day, my baby boy took his last breath. At the risk of sounding like a scene from Steel Magnolias, it was the greatest privilege of my life being there when Chandler breathed his first breath and holding his hand when he breathed his last. 

The pain is unbearable at times, and my heart feels crushed beneath the weight. Tears are close to the surface and erupt at predictable and unpredictable times. I am leaning into the truth I hold so closely -- that Chandler is freer and even more fully alive now than ever (II Corinthians 5:8). He has met his Grandma Ruth, my mom, who died long before Chandler was born. He has been reunited with Grandma Trinnie who was crazy about him. He has met Great Grandpa Reggie and Grandpa Jeepo, both of whom died before Chandler came along. He is reunited with Grandpa Bill, my daddy, with whom Chandler shared a similar unbounded spirit. There are so many who have welcomed him to a better place. Knowing Chandler, he has found the BMX park, and they are all gathered around cheering him on. 

He will live on in our hearts, in our Chandler stories, and in the lives of those who will benefit from his donations. He will be strong for them.

Today's MRI Situation & a Mama Moment

(First published on CaringBridge, December 2018)

It turns out they are having issues getting the MRI done because with Chandler's ventilator on board, they must have an anesthesiologist present. They are working to coordinate that. Please pray that the MRI can happen today and that it will provide definitive information for us. Chandler is calm and is actually sleeping at the moment.

I didn't follow Chandler on instagram because 1) I'm old and prefer Facebook and 2) I was afraid I would see him doing all manner of extreme stuff on wheels, off wheels, off rocks, etc. But a friend told me she saw a post there the other day that any mom would treasure. This pic is one that Charli pulled from that post right after the accident. In the post (I think it was on Mother's Day a couple of years ago), he recalled that when he was little, the Tim McGraw song I Like It, I Love It would come on and I would sing, "Don't know what it is about Chandler Man's lovin', but I like it, I love it, I want some more of it."

Yesterday I gently pressed my face next to Chandler's and sang that song to him. He leaned his whole body toward me. Everything within me sank into that moment and breathed in the scent of my son's being. I like it. I love it. I want some more of it.

Better Day Today!

(First published on CaringBridge, December 2018)

What's this picture, you ask? When Chandler was in high school, he sustained one of countless gashes due to extreme sports falls. Mind you, with my firstborn, I would have been at the emergency room immediately, quite possibly by ambulance. By the time boy #3 came along, I was far more laid back, and I learned early on that if I took Chandler to the ER with every bloody fall, they would likely turn me in to child protective services. 

So after this particular injury, I slathered on the usual wound care ointment and forgot about it...until I received a call from Chandler's school nurse telling me he was in her office bleeding and she thought he probably needed stitches. Mother of the Year here. Well, flash forward to today when I was leaned over Chandler's bed talking to him and all of a sudden his breathing tube snapped off! I had inadvertently disconnected it. I yelled an expletive, and the respiratory therapist came to the rescue and instantly put my mind at ease -- "They're like Legos...they come apart sometimes." Again, Mother of the Year. And also, am I really supposed to feel better that breathing tubes sometimes just come apart like Legos?  

So now for today's update. Last night they had to increase Chandler's oxygen support due to some mucous in his lungs, but they did a bronchoscopy today and removed it. He is still not responding to commands, but today he was less agitated, and he seemed more alert. I could see less angst in his eyes. I needed that desperately. Tomorrow they will do an MRI to try to get a clearer picture of any damage to his brain that a CT scan would miss.

Please pray with us for continually increasing peace and calmness for Chandler's body and mind and that tomorrow's MRI will show us a very clear picture of what is going on in his brain.

On Christmas Eve...

(First published on CaringBridge, December 2018)

I love our little hospital tree — thank you, Brendan!

Immanuel—God with us. This Christmas Eve, whatever circumstance you find yourself in the middle of, I pray that you know God is with you.

As of today, Chandler only has eight tubes left in him! And he pooped! On our planet, that’s a good thing. They have had him in a seated position a couple of times today, and he tolerated it well. He’s been more awake because the sedation has been reduced some.

Tomorrow they will wake him up fully for a brief period to try and get him to follow commands.

Please pray for Chandler’s mind to be as much at peace as possible when they wake him up and as he experiences more wakeful moments. Pray for our hearts as we watch the inevitable pain and struggles Chandler will need to face in his comeback.

Waiting Room

A friend brought us a puzzle. Making great headway on it while we wait for Chandler to come out of surgery. Surgery times are like flight times. If they say takeoff is at 3, you may get off the ground at 3 or 5. Chandler got off the ground at 6. Probably won’t be back in his room by 10 or 11. 
Other than, “How is Chandler doing?”, the big question is, “How are you guys doing?” We are doing well for the crappy situation we are in. We are being carried by God’s presence that looks like—spaghetti and meatballs on our doorstep, text messages, familiar faces coming through the ICU elevator door, a card with a heartfelt prayer or words of encouragement. I will take the time to share in more detail when I can, but right now, my E (extroversion) is usurping my I (introversion), and I am soaking in the company of so many dear friends and family—medicine for my soul.
I will keep you all posted...

—-

This was originally posted on CaringBridge

NYC, Mania, and Meditation Dec. 2014

NYC daytime

NYC night

It's a sunny afternoon in New York City, and I am sitting in a highrise apartment with Freedom Tower to my left and the Brooklyn Bridge to my right. The view is awesome. Not in the Robert Pattinson/KrispyKreme Doughnut/perfect hair day sense of "awesome." In the real sense of the word -- I am in awe. From up here, it is peaceful, serene. Concrete and steel dominate the landscape, and those are not elements that naturally fill up my soul. I need nature, anything green and growing, water, mountains. But yet, my attention is captured, and I can't take my eyes off this sprawling expanse. I think it's because every window, every bridge, every street, every siren, represents a story--countless stories. How did their journeys all converge here? I would love to meet them and hear their stories firsthand.

Last night I was struck in a different way as I took in the sights from my vantage point up here in the clouds. The city was electric--literally. Unbroken strands of tail-lights adorned the Brooklyn Bridge like lights on a Christmas tree, while the network of a million glowing buildings lighting up the night sky gave testament to the moniker "the city that doesn't sleep." And so, I couldn't sleep. The lights seemed to call my name. There was so much happening out there, how on earth could I just go to bed and not join the party? My aversion to freezing cold temperature and the reality of that morning's red-eye flight from California prevailed, and I eventually gave up and crawled into bed, which overlooks the Brooklyn Bridge.

I said to my husband, "I think if I lived here, I would be manic." Left to my own devices, I would stay up until 1 every morning and sleep until 9. I love lights, dancing, great food, people watching, new adventures, movement--this city is made for me!

Today I've been able to sit in a quiet space and take in this amazing view. I am reminded how complicated we are--how complicated I am. I LOVE the night life, but I can't sustain myself on it. The quiet places are where I am rejuvenated and filled up. God is so good to allow us such a breadth of experiences to enjoy in this life and at the same time to let us know what we just "want" and what we really "need" so we can balance the two in a healthy way.

That said...the night is on its way. Get ready NYC!!!!!

So That's the Problem! Nov. 2014

Soccer Header

Yesterday during soccer, our daughter went up for a couple of headers (soccer term for flinging your head toward a high velocity ball in order to dominate the field despite possible dislodging of valuable brain matter). Afterward she experienced dizziness, headache, nausea and tiredness. Of course, these are all symptoms of mild concussion, so we were told to have her lay low for a few days and not to play soccer. In reading about concussions on the internet, I found these additional common symptoms: difficulty concentrating, blurry vision, irritability, and loss of memory. Suddenly it occurred to me, I’m not getting old, I just have a concussion!!!

Something Struck Me Today... June 2013

Pitted Windshield

Something Struck Me Today…

Actually three things.

This morning as I was driving down a dusty, bumpy, gravel-covered road up into the foothills for a hike with some friends from church, a motorcyclist driving like a bat out of Hades pulled around me and deliberately fish-tailed, pummeling my car with gravel and dust so I could barely see. It sounded like a spray of bullets on my car. When the dust and gravel settled, I could see that one of the rocks had struck my windshield and left a pit in the glass. I was livid. He had sped ahead, and there was no way to catch up with him and demand his insurance information. I would have to deal with it myself.

When I arrived at the trailhead and met my hiking buddies, I began to rant about how ticked off I was that this guy would do this to my car deliberately – it’s just not right! My friend said matter-of-factly, “Yeah, but you’ve got to let that go. There’s nothing you can do about it.” What? Let it go? The guy was dead wrong. He needs to be punished – maybe by watching reruns of Fantasy Island or The Loveboat or eating a can of Spam. How can I just let it go? I mentally reviewed my options: keep rehearsing that fateful moment the guy sprayed me with gravel and how much I may have to pay to get my windshield fixed; leave and try to find the guy or report him to the authorities; or let it go and enjoy a hike through God’s amazing creation with my friends. I decided my friend was right. There was nothing I could really do at that point. It struck me that I didn’t want to give that frikkin’ gravel-spraying guy any more power over my day. I let it go and started up the hill toward our waterfall destination.

I began to think about how many times I give circumstances and people the power to ruin my moment, my day, my week…. How many times do I sabotage my peace of mind because I’m unwilling to let it go? I think temperament plays a part in it. I want justice to prevail. I want to find out the right thing to do and then do it. I want to fix things…NOW! The serenity prayer says, “God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change…” I rob myself of peace, of joy, of the sacrament of the present moment, when I obsess over something I cannot change. Or at least something I cannot change right now. It struck me that I have a choice. I have some control over how I respond to what happens to me.  I choose to be more intentional about letting go of things that I cannot change.

I'm thankful for my three strikes today. They all turned out for the best.

Mother's Day Thoughts May 2013

Today the prevalent greeting is, "Happy Mother's Day!" I don't want to be Debbie Downer--wawaahh, but I know the reality is that today is a day characterized by a myriad of feelings. My mom died when I was 18, and for years afterward, Mother's Day was a day I dreaded. Now the pain isn't so tangible, but I still miss being able to hug my incredible mom on Mother's Day. There are lots of us who are missing our moms today. For the mom who expected to be holding a new baby today and instead is still reeling from the loss of her precious infant, this day is a reminder of that pain. For the single mom who never expected to be doing this alone, today may be a reminder of the weight of responsibility resting solely on her shoulders. For the young woman who has tried everything to become pregnant yet has never heard the good news she is longing for, feelings of anger and disappointment may color her day today.

For the mom who prays each day for her children to come home--to the family, to their faith, to who God intends them to be--today will find her on her knees perhaps for a bit longer than usual. For the mom who feels her life has been a series of poor choices that have wrought pain on her children, today is a mirror that reflects regret. For the mom who is fighting to conquer an illness in her body so that she can enjoy another day, another year, with her children, today may bring moments of deep fear followed by moments of immense appreciation for THIS hug, this rendition of Green Eggs and Ham, THIS opportunity to wipe a runny nose, THIS chance to watch Cars II--AGAIN!

And there are the moms for whom today is simply happy. The little ones are scurrying about the kitchen to cook up the breakfast of of breakfasts for mommy. Or maybe her grown children have all promised to land in one spot for Mother's Day lunch, and she will be surrounded by the people in her life who matter the most. Or perhaps she has declared--as I have--that she will be sleeping in, going shopping, having brunch at a favorite restaurant with a good book in hand, and returning home at the end of the day where she expects to be greeted by the hugs of the entire family and fed a wonderful homemade dinner--the mess of which is to be cleaned up by said family.

Today, wherever you are in your journey, whatever your experience and feelings, know that there is a God who is WITH you. He weaps with you, laughs with you, and is your greatest advocate. Find your deepest joy in this reality.

In Memory of Dallas Willard May 2013

"Nondiscipleship costs abiding peace, a life penetrated throughout by love, faith that sees everything in the light of God's overriding governance for good, hopefulness that stands firm in the most discouraging of circumstances, power to do what is right and withstand the forces of evil. In short, it costs exactly that abundance of life Jesus said he came to bring (John 10:10)...The correct perspective is to see following Christ not only as the necessity it is, but as the fulfillment of the highest human possibilities and as life on the highest plane." I remember reading these words from The Spirit of the Disciplines by Dallas Willard many years ago and thinking how profound they were. Last week, at the age of 77, Dallas Willard came face-to-face with life itself.

I first encountered Dallas Willard at a conference where, even though he was the keynote speaker, he hung out in the back of the auditorium and chatted with folks in his slow southern drawl as if he had nothing better to do. He spoke of the kingdom of God in such a way that it moved you to believe that it is real, it is here, and it is actually possible to be like Jesus in this world.

In The Divine Conspiracy, Willard writes, "God has yet to bless anyone except where they actually are, and if we faithlessly discard situation after situation, moment after moment, as not being 'right,' we will simply have no place to receive his kingdom into our life. For those situations and moments are our life."

This kind of practical, here-and-now theology of kingdom life inspires me. Growing up in a fairly rigid religious culture, I pretty much learned that the whole point of Christianity is that we "get saved," then implore others to "get saved," then go to heaven where the "saved" people go. In the teachings of Dallas Willard, I learned that there is SO much more than this. The idea that the journey matters was new to me. It freed me to ENJOY the moment, knowing that Jesus was IN each moment with me. He isn't just pulling me through this life by the scruff of the neck , trying to get me through to the other side where I'll be safe. Every moment is saturated with the presence of God--I just need to acknowledge and embrace that reality.

I am grateful that God allowed a humble man like Dallas Willard, just an ordinary person, to assure us that the kingdom of God is real and accesible to imperfect, broken people like us.

Breaking Busy - Maintaining a Spiritual Lifeline in the Midst of Real Life March 2013

This is the first weekend in a couple of months that I haven't had work deadlines to attend to. I realized this afternoon in the warmth of the sunshine that I felt guilty for not accomplishing something substantial. I felt it wasn't enough to just "be" in this beautiful day. I thought I had put that demon to rest years ago. But I find myself back in constant production mode rather than in a healthy flow of work, play, Sabbath rest. 

Someone asked me recently how I'm doing spiritually. My immediate response was something like, "I'm freakin' busy. I wish I had more time to just 'be.' But God's got me. So no matter how I feel, I'm OK." That's a somewhat crude and simplistic way of reiterating the truth in the classic hymn -- "It is well with my soul." 

How can you NOT have time for God?

I used to wonder about the depth of spirituality of people who could never seem to find time for quiet, meditation, devotional reading, gathering with others aside from a regular church service to inspire and encourage one another in our Christian journey. I wouldn't say it out loud. In fact, my head would nod sympathetically while you went on about how you wish you could find time for a Bible study or a small group, or even just fifteen minutes of quiet time with God before the craziness of the day.  It wasn't that I didn't want to understand. I just couldn't. 

Almost two years ago, for the first time since having kids, I started working full-time. It was a God thing, and I love my job. But I had to give up my weekly daytime small group that had been meeting for almost four years, and I found myself for the first time in 25 years having nine hours of every weekday pre-planned for me. Add to that getting Charli to soccer practice at least twice a week and games on weekends. When do you get groceries, cook (solution--I don't!), exercise, clean house, do laundry, run household errands, catch up with friends??? When do you sit and reflect and soak in the Word of God and, as an old Indian saying goes, "Allow your soul to catch up with your body" ??? Now I get it.

Most days I manage to read my "Jesus Calling" devotion. And prayer is in fits and starts --"Lord, comfort my friend," "Provide for so-and-so," "Thank you for this food and this day." It's not the concentrated chunk of time I'd like, but I think God is listening just the same.

I'm not making excuses or saying I'm content with the form or frequency of my spiritual disciplines. But I do think the reality of this season is just one more way God is teaching me humility and compassion for others. Lo and behold, He is showing up all over the place -- even though I'm not lighting my candle and settling in with my journal and Bible for an hour every day. Given my upbringing, I think it's probably a huge growth point for me to realize God is still just as much with me and loves me just as much when I'm struggling to eek out quiet time as when I'm the over-achiever in the Beth Moore Bible study.

That said, I do know that Sabbath rest, time alone with God, soaking in His Word, are necessities. They are breath and life for my soul. Thank God for His grace as I...as we...sometimes struggle to figure this out in our everyday working, paying bills, carpooling lives.

Just Plane Fun...or NOT Nov. 2013

Some days you know you probably should have just stayed in bed. Yesterday's journey back home to Southern California from Texas was one of those days. Everything started out OK as I pulled into the Houston Intercontinental Airport Avis return lot right on schedule. I got on the shuttle bus headed to the airport, confident that I had everything under control. Only when EVERYONE de-boarded the bus except me did I begin to suspicion something might be wrong. I asked the driver, "Is the next stop Terminal E?" "No, ma'am, this bus is only for A, C and D." He pointed inside the busy airport and assured me the signs would lead me to my intended Terminal. Indeed they did. Or they would have...if I hadn't run into a CLOSED security checkpoint and had to go back to Terminal C where I began. I got in line at security, fully intending to check no bags and thus save precious time. Of course, this particular TSA employee decided my bag was too big. I had to go back out of the security line and check my bag at the counter. Not a big deal. Still OK for time. Got in line and tried to bring up my boarding pass on my phone--I'm just cool like that. It would NOT load. Ran out to a kiosk to print my boarding pass and it immediately came up on my phone, so I began to run back to the security line. An officer guarding the premises chastised me for ducking under a rope to get back to the security line. I protested...he gave up on me and let me go. By this time, I wasn't sure I'd make my plane. Once through the painfully slow security line, I sprinted across the airport from Terminal C to Terminal E only to discover that my flight was delayed. Then I discovered my phone was missing.

Maybe my look of complete despair moved her, and the head flight attendant at the desk called a cart to take me back to Terminal C to security to find my phone. The TSA personnel checked all the usual places where lost items might end up. Nothing. I convinced one nice security guy that my phone had to be in one of those plastic bins they put through the x-ray machine. As I stood there praying frantically, I saw him emerge from the back of the security line. In his hand was my beautiful red iphone! I asked if I could give him a big ole hug, and before he could answer, I hugged him. "Thank you so much, sir! And my husband thanks you too!"

By that time, it was doubtful I would make my flight. I RAN from Terminal C to Terminal E. When I arrived AGAIN, I discovered the flight was still delayed. In fact, now they informed us that our plane and gate were changed to Terminal C! As we passed the security checkpoint from which I had sprinted two times in the past half hour and where I had just recovered my pone minutes earlier, I hid behind other passengers. What on earth would these security people think seeing me now leisurely stroll by?

When we arrived at our new gate, we learned that our flight would not depart for two more hours. So I went a couple hundred feet down from the gate for a bite to eat. I listened intently for the boarding calls. My flight to Orange County was never announced...or at least that I could hear. Finally, close to 4 o'clock I went down to the gate and asked if there was another delay. "Oh, no. The flight has boarded and it's now closed. Are you Lisa Espinoza?" I said yes, certain that this meant they'd been waiting for me and would fling open the doors of the jet to welcome me on. "Where were you?" she asked. "Right down the way eating tacos," I replied. "I never heard the boarding call." Despite calling the captain on my flight, the answer was no. The plane was taking off in moments and no one else could board. They booked me for the next flight out...leaving in TWO hours!

I'd been trying to engage in positive self-talk up to this point--through taking the wrong shuttle bus to losing my phone at security. But this was too much. Who misses their flight while sitting a couple hundred feet from the gate? Me.

I finally ended up on a plane that I was fairly certain would land in Orange County California. As a final capper on the day's events, I sat by a very nice man who was so wide, there was no room for my armrest to go down. He was all up in my space. I felt he should buy me dinner and a movie before sitting so close for three hours. But like I said, he was nice, and this was the least of my worries this particular day. We landed in Orange County at about 8:15, three hours later than I would have arrived had I simply WALKED TO MY GATE AT 3:40 to BOARD the first flight!

Is it just me, or is travelling a pain in the rear? Don't answer.

Flubber and the Christian Life May 2013

Yesterday I watched some kids play with this homemade magic stuff called flubber (google Flubber Recipe to try it at home!). They squished it, rolled it, patted it, stretched it, poked it. Then someone suggested, "Just let it sit in your hands and see what happens." It was all these kids could do to sit still and let the flubber just BE in their hands. Just when I thought they wouldn't be able to sit still a moment longer, it happened. The sort of fixed shape it had maintained while being manipulated and moved around melted into the shape of these motionless, open hands and began to ooze through their fingers. I thought--what a metaphor for life.

In the Christian life, our goal is to be molded and shaped into the likeness of Christ. I find myself in such constant motion that I forget to just be still in the hands of my Creator. When I finally settle myself down and sit with Him, my soul is molded into His image. My rigidness begins to soften and I take on the shape of His compassion and grace. And the oozing part? When my heart is at peace and I am fully aware of Christ's presence and love in my life, it oozes out to others. 

Metaphors involving God can only go so far. They break down at some point. So don't overanalyze. Just whip up a batch of flubber and see what you might learn for yourself.