This Is Why I Write

Oh, I miss those dimples. My sweet boy. I miss you so much….so, so much.

For almost six months, I’ve been writing every day. Every single day. Why???

It started reluctantly when my friend encouraged me to post on Caring Bridge to keep people updated about what was happening with Chandler. After Chandler’s memorial service on January 13, I knew I needed to keep writing. It was a lifeline for me. That’s when I moved my updates over to my website and they became blogs.

Why do I keep writing?

I write each day because it helps me process. Sometimes I’m processing painful emotions. Sometimes I’m just recounting the events of a somewhat “normal” day. Always, I am opening my heart and letting it pour out onto the keyboard, and it helps me heal.

I write because when I share my journey honestly, you all surround me with prayer, with support, with love. I can’t do this alone. I need my village.

I write daily because I want to look back at this journey and remember what it was like, day by day. I want to be able to see how it is different in January 2020 from January 2019. I want to remember what it was like to be without Chandler for one day, and then 365 days.

I write each day because that’s what writers do. They write. Chandler wanted to be a writer. At the end of this year of firsts, I want this collection of blogs to be a body of work that Chandler and I did together. A gift to him and to me. A testament to his life…well lived.

I write every day because when I hear from fellow members of this shitty club that it is helping them, my heart is encouraged beyond what I can express in words. I write because when someone tells me I gave words to the pain that they couldn’t express, my heart feels lighter. I write because I believe with all my soul that one of the greatest privileges in life is to comfort others with the same comfort we have been comforted with.

I write because I want everyone to know that we are not alone. We have a God who loves us, who is WITH us, who hurts with us. We have a God who can bring beauty from ashes.

This is why I just keep on writing. Thank you for sharing this journey with me.

Brill-O Pads, Pink Uniforms, and Kimchee

Today…a new adventure!

When my friend Anita texted me a while back and told me she wanted to take me to an interesting spa experience, I was all in, though I’d never really heard of a spa experience being “interesting.” Then she said, “We can even go late. They’re open until 11 pm.” Hmmm.

The first thing they said after we checked in and went to the locker room was, “Why do you still have your clothes on?”

Apparently, the attire for this spa once you get past the front door is none. Calm down…women and men are completely separate. They did issue us some mighty cute pink elastic waist bermuda shorts and roomy pink t-shirts for later.

First, the body scrub. I think my lady may have used an entire box of Brill-O pads on me. She scrubbed places I didn’t even know were scrub-worthy. Surprisingly, it was so relaxing, I almost fell asleep, even with my appendages regularly being reconfigured during the entire scrub down. After the scrub, she poured buckets of water over me to rinse me off on the soft rubbery waterproof table. Then she slathered me up again with something and told me to go rinse off in the shower. Mind you….no pink spa uniform, no robe, and the towels were roughly the size of a dinner napkin. You had to pick which part you were most desperate to cover.

Next came my massage in the same room as the scrub. I use the word “room” loosely. With just half-walls and no doors between all the service spaces, it’s easy to say hello and make new friends as you walk past.

Following our scrubs and massages, Anita and I put on our spa-issued Pepto-Bismol colored uniforms and strolled over to the quiet relaxation area to check out the forest room that smelled of bark, the Himalayan salt room where you could lounge on salt rocks (we licked them to confirm), the fire room (it was just really hot), and the ice room. It was literally like sitting inside the refrigerator section, complete with frosted freezer coils surrounding it. I lasted a few minutes then ran back to the hot sea salt room where Anita and I tried to squelch our laughter at the grunting woman who kept changing positions.

We ended our time at the spa with mouth-watering Korean food – beef short ribs and some kind of spicy soup served with several types of kimchee. During lunch, I found out that while my masseuse straddled me at one point, not unlike a cowboy riding a rodeo bull, Anita’s did no such thing. I don’t think I paid extra for that.

As I get ready to slide into bed tonight with my freshly exfoliated skin and my relaxed muscles, I’m grateful for another day -- for smiles and laughter, for my adventurous friend, for Brill-O pads, for delicious food, and for the ability to enjoy them all.

Flashback

Mary Ellen arrived today…so good to have her and Bob here! Chip and Bob are playing in a golf tournament together, so Mary Ellen and I get to play whatever we want for the next couple of days.

We have known Bob and Mary Ellen for about 35 years. There may have been mullets and perms involved when we first met as youth pastors taking our youth groups to camp.

Tonight we went to a dinner that was part of the golf tournament. It was in the same banquet space where Chandler’s memorial was held. Bob officiated the memorial.

It felt surreal.

I looked up at the pull-down video screen and remembered that the last time I saw that screen, it held images of Chandler — skating, biking, dancing, grinning, golfing. I remembered the room overflowing with friends and family and people we didn’t even know who loved Chandler. I remembered the feelings. This cannot be my son’s memorial service…this cannot be real…how am I going to get through this day?

It’s like you always knew that 2+4=6. Then, all of a sudden, out of nowhere, someone tells you that 2+4=5. It’s not right. It doesn’t add up. It does not make sense. And yet you have to keep living each day with this new equation that doesn’t equate.

I don’t know how I will ever adopt this new irrational equation. Maybe it’s a function of time. Or maybe 2+4 will never equal 5.

In this moment, I just know I’m grateful to have such dear friends sleeping right down the hall. With Chandler’s lungi.

Path Across

I think this is called a three-legged dog pose in yoga. All I know is that it looked like a fun thing to do as I crossed the stream.

I feel like I’m crossing a stream, or a river, or a raging set of rapids every day. I don’t know which it will be until the day is underway. Well, sometimes I do. I can pretty much count on rapids when it’s a big day — a holiday, a birthday, a day when I know I will come face to face with my new reality. Like when I know I will be asked to talk about my kids and I refuse to leave Chandler out or gloss over the fact I am here without him…and not at all happy about it.

I’m so grateful for the rocks that help me cross, that give my feet a place to land.

Family. Friends. Nature. Scripture. And every tangible expression of God’s presence.

There will always be some kind of challenge, some body of water to cross. It could be tranquil or it could be treacherous. I am growing more and more confident that when I open myself up to help instead of intellectualizing, minimizing, or excusing, the resources come to me. The rocks appear to help me cross.

God, give me eyes to see every day the rocks you are placing in my path to get me across the water. Thank you that even in the middle of the water, there is always room to play. Amen.

Home

“You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our heart is restless until it rests in you.” St. Augustine.

I grew up hearing about and believing in God. In a thousand different ways I’ve said, sung, and written that my trust is in the Lord as my ultimate source. Sometimes I’ve actually lived like it’s true. Now I have to.

As much as I crave new experiences and adventure, home is where I come back to for rest. That’s what I think St. Augustine is talking about – without knowing what the restlessness is about, our hearts long to be home.

When we find our true home, we know it. We discover a place of warmth, safety, and security. We can be ourselves and know we are loved. We can even be honest about the dark parts of ourselves and find grace and mercy.

I have pitched lots of tents in places that were never meant to be home. I’m not judging myself for that. Just saying that I really lost out.

Right now, I simply cannot afford to lose out. I have to go for the real deal, not an inferior substitute. My peace, my serenity, my ability to show up in the world in a way that honors God, myself, and Chandler – it’s all in knowing where home is.

Lord Christ, give me the courage to return again and again and again to you, my heart’s true home. Give me the grace to live as if everything I need is in you. Amen.

Service, Soul Food, Ribs, and Rain Man

This Memorial Day, I remember and honor all those who have served our country, and especially those who lost their lives in the line of duty. I don’t take for granted the freedoms I enjoy because of them. Thank you for your service.

This morning held a heaping helping of soul food...an Adventure Sisters hike with an ocean view. Because of the rains, the hills were a canvas of greens, purples and yellows. At several spots along the trail, we enjoyed vistas of deep blue, shimmering with the ripples of endless waves. Two of Chandler’s favorite things — hiking and the ocean. I wore his hiking sweatshirt.

Looking out at the endless expanse of water, I was reminded that God is bigger. Bigger than ____________. Drop anything into that blank space and God is bigger. I am safe. My life is secure in the One who is bigger.

This afternoon, Chase and Karen came over for burgers and ribs. Chip is the best BBQer (is that a word?)! Can’t think of any way I’d rather spend an afternoon and evening than with this family God has blessed me with. They make me laugh. They make me think outside the box. They get what it’s like to ache because of one less person in a family group text. They are my best thing.

Tonight I discovered that one of my favorite all-time movies was on — Rain Man. It felt good to veg out on the couch and watch as Charlie Babbitt kidnapped his newly discovered brother Raymond out of suspect motives and throughout the following week-long cross-country road trip made meaningful connections with his brother via cheese balls, Judge Wapner, counting cards, and teaching Ray to dance. It gets me every time at the end when Raymond says, “C-H-A-R-L-I-E … main man.”

Beginning to end, today delivered all the good things.

Back to Life!

I’m so happy about this little purple plant!

First of all, Chandler made this beautiful pot for me when he was at Living Word Lutheran School, I think around 7th grade. Second, someone gave us this plant after Chandler died. I’m trying SO hard to keep all these plants alive because each is a special reminder of the love that has been poured out on our family during this time. Horticulture is not my gift, so I even tried something I’d never done — implementing a weekly watering schedule which, by the way, doesn’t work for African violets. So bummed about losing them!

We took the pot to Chandler’s memorial service, and afterward, it got packed up and brought back to the house in a big plastic tub with a lot of other items from the memorial. I didn’t get to the unpacking of the tub for probably two weeks or more after the memorial. I had forgotten the little pot was in there. You guessed it. Dead as a doornail.

Praying for a small miracle, I placed the dried, shriveled up plant in the window by my kitchen sink and began watering it faithfully. That was almost four months ago. Yesterday, I noticed vibrant purple flowers blooming from my very special Chandler pot! I cannot believe that little plant pulled through. It not only survived, it is thriving and more alive and beautiful than ever!

Thriving. More alive and beautiful than ever. That is Chandler right at this moment.

Waves

I’ve become intimately acquainted with the phrase “grief comes in waves.”

Sometimes it’s like I’m walking on the warm, dry sand and the water rolls in and laps at my feet. I just continue on my walk, enjoying the ocean view, wet feet and all. Other times, it’s like I’m on the shore happily building a sandcastle when out of nowhere, a wave comes crashing down on my castle, carrying it out to sea. I can’t just start building again. I look out over the water and remember. I feel whatever comes. When the time is right, I move on and find another spot to rebuild. And wait for another wave.

Today I went to Staples to get a couple of pictures of Chandler enlarged and put on foam board. Four months ago, my friend Stephanie stood in that same spot and ordered posters of Chandler for his memorial. I thought how difficult that must have been for her. It felt surreal this morning, pointing to a screen to indicate to the guy at the counter which pictures of Chandler I wanted blown up and how big. I didn’t tell him the handsome guy we were looking at wasn’t here any more. I didn’t tell him those pictures would be joining the ones from his memorial on display shelves in his room. I didn’t want to burden that young man with tears, and they were just too close.

Later, I went to IKEA to get the picture ledges for all the Chandler posters. As I approached the entrance, I remembered going there with the boys to get bunk beds or tables, or some other piece of furniture that would drive us to cuss with its cryptic assembly instructions and missing — or extra — parts. I recalled the bliss of leaving the kids in the supervised ball pit for an hour while I got to stroll through the labyrinthine maze of couches, chairs, rugs, shelves, curtains, coffee tables…. It’s a miracle anyone ever finds their way through those endless switch-backs to that ball pit to pick up their kids.

Today’s waves were manageable. Wet feet. Enjoyable walk. Beautiful view.

The Candle Maker

Today, my friend brought me a priceless gift. It is breathtaking.

For Mother’s Day a few years ago, Chandler posted a message about me on Instagram. I never saw it because I wasn’t on Instagram at the time. I think he overestimated my social media savvy. When Chandler was in the hospital, someone showed it to me. My response was exactly what you would imagine. Here’s what he posted on instachan1993:

One of the most vivid memories I will ever have is of Mom holding my tiny hand while I sat shotgun for the first time. It was during the last couple of years I was still at home with her and not off to kindergarten. Dad was working and the brothers were at school. In those, days, every step I took — every breath I took was by her side. Part of me is still stuck in that 5-year-old body whose eyes could barely see over the dashboard. Before I knew what it meant to consummate a marriage, I truly believed I would grow up to marry my mom. Almost every single day I told her I would. I’m pretty sure I even proposed to her with a few Ring Pops on occasion. You know that song “I Like It, I Love It” by Tim McGraw? Anytime that song came on, Mom would change the lyrics: “I don’t know what it is about my Chan Man’s lovin’/but I like it/I love it/I want some more of it” When everyone has come and gone, she will still be there to make me feel like I’m the best guy on the planet. #HappyMothersDay #NoYouCannotDateMyMom May 10, 2015

As my friend presented me with this beautiful lantern, complete with Ring Pops, she explained that Chandler, the “candle-maker”, is illuminating his words to me.

Thank you, Daisha, for once again knowing exactly what this mom’s heart needed.

Disney Hangover

The first few hours of today were spent waiting in line, buckling in, climbing up, plunging down, unbuckling, and doing it all again. We rode lots of rides at Disney’s California Adventure before it started to rain buckets this afternoon. I felt so bad for all the people who came from far away to the happiest place on earth only to be left wandering around soaking wet, rideless, and trying to console their disappointed kiddos.

I think I did a pretty good job keeping my mind on track — don’t think too hard, be in the moment, keep it light. Certainly, that’s not a healthy way to live every single day when you’re trying to absorb your new reality, but it seems to have worked OK when my goal was just to enjoy a couple of days at Disneyland. It wasn’t easy…on several levels. I had to pull my mind back into the moment countless times. This evening I found myself emotionally drained and exhausted. Where I would normally opt for a session of hot yoga or Pilates, I decided to just lay on the couch and watch a movie. That’s the thing that best answered the question, “What’s the most loving, kind thing I can do for myself this evening?”

The past two days at Disneyland, I would see families with little dimpled boys and remember how cute Chandler was at that age and how he had no fear of any ride — ever! I remembered once when we were at Disneyland with the boys, one walking, one in a stroller, and one in a backpack. An older mom stopped me and said, “Your boys are lucky to have a mom who is so happy.” That has never left me.

Being mom to Chase, Chance, Chandler and Charli is my happiest place on earth.

36 Years

Today marks 36 years since Chip and I said, “I do.” What better place to be than the “happiest place on earth” — Disneyland.

It was a good day. Matterhorn, Big Thunder Railroad, Small World, Pirates of the Caribbean. And a peanut rolled caramel apple. All the classics. We had a fast pass to Indiana Jones, and of course, after waiting 30 minutes for the fast pass lane to open, they announced the ride was closed due to mechanical issues. It’s OK. While waiting, I got to people watch. To the dad whose little kid who threw his souvenir toy on the ground and tried to slap your phone out of your hand, don’t you dare give him back that toy! Also got to gaze up at the vibrant greenery atop Tarzan’s Treehouse while the sun peeked through the leaves.

We ended the day with dinner at Ballast Brewery. Had some of the best spicy lettuce cups ever! And then my mind was blown. I asked if it was ground pork or chicken. They explained that it was “impossible” protein. I asked, “So it’s impossible for you to tell me?” Apparently, it was a mix of 21 different protein sources, all plant based. Even Chip said it was good!

Lots of prayer and lots of self-talk today. Be in this moment. Breathe deeply. Don’t think too much.

I was doing OK tonight until we turned on The Voice and one of the contestants was singing In the Arms of an Angel. I pictured Chandler. In the arms of an angel. And I cried.

A lot of life has happened in 36 years. I never dreamed one of those anniversaries would be celebrated in the wake of losing one of our kids. It’s a lot to take in.

Stream in the Desert

Isaiah 35:5-7 Springs of water will burst out in the wilderness, streams flow in the desert.

Today’s hike took us from a trail head of dry, dusty terrain to a palm tree-lined oasis —a sparkling stream surrounded by towering rock formations. We kept saying, “This is crazy! Who knew this was in the middle of the desert!?”

When you’re in the middle of a desert, it seems impossible for any form of life to flourish. But if you know where to look, there it is. A stream coursing through the parched earth. Near the stream, green trees. Tiny wriggling tadpoles. Colorful flowers. Endless vines. The power of the water explodes as it squeezes through the rocks and bursts into an open cave below.

The water is life. It is sustenance. And it is available where you would never expect it —in the middle of a desert.

If you had told me six months ago that I could find life and sustenance if I ever lost a child, I would have wanted to believe it. I may have even said, “Yes, I know God will always be with me, no matter what circumstances may come.” But that’s before I lost Chandler.

Now I know. I know there is a stream in this desert. The presence of God, His tender love, his provision, the countless ways He just keeps showing up for me.

God, you are my stream in this desert. You are my life.

Adventure Day One

Today started with a reminder from a friend who said, “Your job today is — be kind and loving to yourself.”

That’s exactly what I did. Day One of our Adventure Sisters getaway to Palm Springs.

For lunch, we stopped at a fabulous diner in Palm Springs called Kings Highway. I noticed the young man serving us had scrapes on his forearm. I asked, “Are you a skater or biker?” He answered, “I’m a biker.” He was taken aback and thought I was grossed out by his scabs. He apologized. “No, it’s totally fine! It reminds me of my son. It’s a good thing.” Chandler ALWAYS had some evidence on his body of a recent conquest — of concrete or water or a mountain.

After lunch, we rode the Palm Springs tram up to Mount San Jacinto State Park. I clung to my friend’s jacket the whole way up and tried to pretend not to be nervous and sweating profusely. I can ride crazy rollercoasters and spinning rides — no problem. All my life, I’ve had issues riding those trams that hang on thin cables way above the ground. Somehow our tram didn’t fall off the cable, and we made it to the top for our hike.

When we hike, we do it the right way. Hike. Stop. Enjoy the view. Hike some more. Stop and climb some rocks. Have a snack while enjoying the view. We are not in a hurry. The journey is as important as the destination.

I thought of Chandler often. He felt at home hiking, climbing, enjoying the view. He savored the journey.

The big box hanging on the cable safely carried us back down the mountain, and we spent the evening together laughing, chatting, and filling ourselves with a variety of scrumptious foods.

Thank you, God, for a day with friends in nature doing one of the things Chandler loved most. Thank you for helping me follow my friend’s advice to be kind and loving to myself today. It’s been a good one.

Thank God for Friends and Junk Food

Along with my noon session of hot yoga (phrase of the day — Praise God from whom all blessings flow), the greatest moments of comfort and joy today came from friends and junk food.

Conversations with old friends today brought me wisdom, compassion, understanding, and love. I don’t take a minute of any of those conversations for granted. They were food for my soul, wind in my sail.

Tonight at a meeting with others, like myself, who are working their 12-step program, I was reminded by a new friend that the only place to find my ultimate happiness and fulfillment is in God.

That’s why I keep coming back…

Step 1: Surrender. Step 2: Acknowledge that there is a God who can restore my life from its current unmanageability. Step 3: Make a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God.

After the meeting, I met a dear friend for dinner. We were both feeling naughty. We walked up to order, and I said, “Screw it, I’m having the Street Corn Dog.” My friend asked, “Wanna split a chocolate milkshake?” I didn’t even think twice. We were so bad. But it was SO worth it. The chocolate shake — creamy, rich, and smooth. The street corn dog — I don’t even know what to say — lime aioli, jalapeno cheese sausage, corn salsa. Just yum. We sat their indulging in deliciousness, catching up on life. This is the good stuff.

Once again, as this day ends, I have to say that God brought exactly what I needed.

God from whom all blessings flow, thank you for all the blessings you poured on me today. You know better than I do what I need in any given moment. Thank you for always showing up for me.

Smile Because it Happened

Each year, our school celebrates Dr. Seuss Day, complete with a visit from The Cat in the Hat himself. Yeah, I know him. Don’t be a hater.

During this year’s visit a few weeks ago, I was chatting with The Cat and a friend from work. My friend mentioned her favorite quote, quite often attributed to Dr. Seuss:

“Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it happened.”

Of course, you know where my mind went.

Just a few days ago in my Both/And Not Either/Or post, I talked about the unhelpfulness of saying to someone who has lost a loved one, “Just celebrate the time you had with them.” So it would naturally seem that my response would be to call BS on the “Don’t cry because it’s over” part of the Seuss quote.

That day in my office, I got a glimpse of a different perspective that may evolve for me in the months or years to come — not so much a literal interpretation of “Don’t cry because it’s over” that causes me to bristle and protest but more of an emphasis on “Smile because it happened.” I’m certain that Dr. Seuss’ intent was not to short circuit the grief process but more to point out the importance of being grateful for what we had.

I’ve heard from others who have walked this path before me that with time comes an ability to smile about sweet memories without feeling such an endless sense of emptiness and aching. I’m trusting it is so.

It’s not that I don’t smile when I remember Chandler. Sometimes just looking at his picture makes me smile. We often re-tell Chandler stories that make me laugh. Like when he was little and saw my dad who wasn’t circumcised going to the bathroom and later asked me, “How come Grandpa has an alien’s ding?” Or when we came home from the store, again when he was quite young, with a package of the sausage that’s shaped like an oblong circle and he announced to everyone, “We got a ring of ding.” I see a theme here.

Certainly I’m glad for the 25 Chandler years. But I don’t know that there will ever come a time when I do not cry because it’s over. My hope is that the smiling may someday outweigh the crying. Or maybe it will just become smiling through tears.

For today, if I were able to write my own version of the Seuss quote, it would read:

Cry because it’s over. It means you loved. And always remember to smile because it happened.

15 Days of Surrender

Today was a double-header. I am doing a 15-day challenge at Sweat Star (just to recap, it’s yoga in 105 degrees of humid heat—no goats involved), and to get my 15 sessions in before I go out of town this weekend, I had to do two sessions today and will do two tomorrow. I saw five of Chandler’s B &B friends there today, my tribe, so that’s just a big fat bonus. I feel like he’s with us in that room and so pleased that we have connected like this and are here for each other. My “Chandler 4-Ever” bracelet inspired me today when I wasn’t sure I could get through a second session.

Here’s what I’m learning through this 15-day challenge.

Sometimes the only thing that gets you to the next moment is breathing…deeply, intentionally. There are times when I feel like my guts might fall out because I’m so stinking hot in that yoga room. For someone who loves being hot, that’s saying a lot. But then I focus on my breath, and I’m able to stay on my mat. Whatever I need to do, my breath is what gets me there. One breath. One movement. In bow pose, a ridiculous stance that has your toes coming up behind your head in a standing position, the mantra is, “I breathe in; I breathe out.” It actually works.

How the heck does that translate to life outside a sweatbox that people pay to be in for an hour?

Breathing matters. I know it sounds just plain stupid. I breathe. You breathe. We all breathe. It really doesn’t take a lot of skill or thought. But when we are stressed, our breath tends to become shallow. In yoga, deep, intentional breathing is the point. Deep breathing can produce a lot of health benefits, from reducing stress to lowering blood pressure. Deep breathing becomes second nature when you walk into the yoga room and begin your practice. So when you exit the sweatbox, and you find yourself, say in the middle of a Mother’s Day without your son, you find it easier to breathe yourself through to the next moment.

Another thing I’m learning is that my mind is powerful. When we come to a pose that is physically challenging, most often it is my mental focus and positive self-talk that allows me to move into that pose. It is most certainly the mental component that helps me maintain the pose well past where my body says, “No more.”

Outside the hot yoga room, that translates to – the sound byte you play in your head over and over matters!!! I have been practicing the art of NOT obsessing over certain trains of thought that get me nowhere, and it has brought me great peace and serenity. Instead, when my mind starts to entertain counterproductive thoughts that don’t serve me well, I can say, “OK, that’s enough…you can move on now.” I’m walking through the most difficult circumstance I’ve ever had to walk through, and I am learning that I can show up and be stronger than I ever imagined I could. Every time I am in a difficult yoga pose, sweat dripping from every part of my body, my heart pounding and my mind working to focus on that moment, I think, “I am stronger than I thought I was.”

Probably the greatest lesson I’m learning through this 15-day hot yoga challenge is surrender. Surrender to God. To his power in my powerlessness; to his love in my longing; to his provision in my need; to his acceptance in my striving; to his comfort in my grieving. The answer to all of my deepest needs is in my Creator.

I am learning that in surrender, in admitting my ultimate powerlessness, I find my strength.

My grace is enough; it’s all you need. My strength comes into its own in your weakness (2 Corinthians 12:10).

I Made It!

It’s the day after. The day after the day I dreaded for so long. But I made it. I darn sure didn’t make it alone. I made it because God showed up for me. I made it because he brought people into my life to show up for me. And I made it because I showed up for myself.

What do I even mean by made it? It’s not like I literally survived Mother’s Day like someone survives a car crash or a deadly disease. I guess by “made it,” I mean that the pain did not overtake me to the point of paralysis. At least not for most of the day. It did not rob me of the ability to enjoy the other gifts yesterday had to offer. I say “other” gifts, because pain itself is a gift, though admittedly uninvited and unwelcome most of the time.

The profound pain of yesterday was intermingled with so many moments of the deepest, purest joy. I gave myself permission to feel the pain while also allowing myself to get lost in the sound of my kids’ laughter, in the beauty of the ocean, in the creamy deliciousness of the best gelato ever!

This reminds me of a stupid (sorry, this is my grief Nazi coming out) online article I saw called “Scriptures to Overcome Grief.” You don’t overcome grief. It overcomes you, as it should. It’s not something to conquer. It’s not the enemy. Grief means someone you love isn’t here any more and you miss them with every cell, pore, and fiber of your being. Why would you want to overcome that?

Oh, I get why you would want to stop feeling so much pain. I don’t like the ache in my heart and my gut. But I don’t think I need to beat it into submission, to gain victory over it. Grief is a natural, healthy process. It will look different a year from now and a year from then and in five years.

For today, I will feel what I feel. I will pray. I will accept all hugs and words of encouragement. I will be kind to myself. I will drink so much kombucha and avail myself of chocolate. And as much as I am able, I will be available to others who are traveling this road of grief.

By the grace of God, I will make it. We will make it.

Let Go and Let God -- Practice Needed

This morning brought another round of hot yoga at Sweat Star. I’m doing a 15-day challenge, so lots and lots of sweat and lots of opportunities to embrace my word of the day. Today’s word was actually a phrase: Let go and let God. I’ve been practicing it all day.

Let go and let God. It sounds so incredibly trite. But try doing it. Try visualizing just one thing in your life that you can’t control or change and offering it up, open-handed, with the mantra “Let go and let God.” Maybe it will come easy for you. I need lots and lots of practice. And I have plenty of opportunities every single day for it. Whenever I get a glimpse of what it’s like to really let go and trust God with that thing, I never want to go back to the grasping. There is too much freedom in the letting go.

I want to thank my friend Kimberly again for talking me into writing about our journey on Caring Bridge soon after Chandler’s accident. Because of my writing, my heart and soul continue to grow stronger, to be encouraged. This afternoon, I went to the pharmacy to pick up a prescription. I was on the phone with a friend telling her I’m still unsure how I want to spend Mother’s Day. As I fumbled to get my credit card to work in the machine, the pharmacy technician, tears in her eyes, told me she recognized me and that she had just started following my blog. She said, “I’m so sorry for your loss.” I wanted to hug her, but people were in line, and I was having a conversation with my friend. I can’t tell you what that did to my heart. She was hurting with me. I left that pharmacy with the best medicine ever – the reassurance once again that I AM NOT ALONE.

Tonight we had the great pleasure of watching Charli dance in her spring dance recital at school. Any time I get to watch her do something she loves, it makes me happy. Today I had to make a choice about the recital. I had to choose joy. Chandler was there for her freshman and sophomore dance recitals. He was so proud of her and would make comments to her about how she did – always concluding that she was one of the best dancers of the evening. We were almost all there. I wouldn’t let myself think too hard or feel too much about the one who wasn’t there. Not tonight. I want to believe Chandler was watching and was just as proud of his sister as ever.

My heart breaks for Charli. She has three brothers. And she misses one of them immensely.

One...at...a...time.

My heart is so full tonight.

This morning as I got dressed, I chose to wear a beautiful silver bracelet that says “Brave.” My friend gave it to me yesterday. I hugged her and thanked her and said, “I don’t feel brave. I just miss my son.” Every time I put on a bracelet, or necklace, or jacket, or anything that has been gifted to me by people wanting to show their care and support, it is a physical reminder throughout the day of God saying to me, “I see you. I’ve got you.”

Mixing up my spinach smoothie after my shower, I looked outside the kitchen window and saw a bright green lime tree in a pretty blue pot another friend and her husband gave me last night, a reminder that they are praying for us.

Driving to work this morning, I let the words of today’s Pray As You Go devotional wash over me, reminding me where to find the strength I need for whatever comes.

When I got to work, there was a bag in the refrigerator for me from my friend’s daughter with two new kombucha flavors I’d never tried. Let me tell you, Brew Dr.Vanilla Oak is worth a taste.

Later, a sweet mom whose daughter attends our school popped in to my office with the most beautiful orchid you’ve ever seen. It is perfect. Like the heart of compassion this mom has shown for me since the first days of Chandler’s accident. She said, “This is from your mom and from Chandler.”

I’m going to try so hard not to kill it like I do the majority of initially green living things that come under my care. There is a long list of “how to care for” instructions. I didn’t even put that much effort into taking care of my kids! But I’m committed. I’m going to buy orchid fertilizer and only water twice a week by soaking, not sprinkling. If this orchid is still alive by summer, it will be a sign to the world that miracles do happen.

Before leaving work, another mom dropped by with flowers, a thoughtful card, and homemade oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. I may have eaten one, two, or three before I left the office.

As if my cup of gratitude weren’t already full to overflowing, tonight I went to Board & Brew for The Chandler Tap Annihilation – Chandler’s favorite brewery, Noble Ale Works, taking over the taps. Brendan did an amazing job making it all happen, as usual. Tricia welcomed me with a 4-pack of Flying Ember, a new hard kombucha brand I’ve been wanting to try.

Every time I’m at Board & Brew, people I’ve never met tell me how much they love Chandler and what a thoughtful young man he was. He remembered everyone’s name, their drink, and their food order.

I feel Chandler when I’m at Board & Brew. His friends, co-workers, the regulars – we all miss him together. We hug. We laugh. We share Chandler stories. Sometimes there are tears. Like when Alex Brown, a singer-songwriter B&B regular, gave me a CD of songs inspired by Chandler and another young man, Carlos, who died recently. The picture of Chandler on the cover was one I’d never seen. How could it be that this handsome, sweet young man isn’t here tonight, enjoying the people he loved so much?! How do I live with the reality that I will never touch that face again?! How do I get through the next days knowing he’s not going to wish me Happy Mother’s Day?!

I will get through this. I will be OK. One moment at a time. One prayer at a time. One hug at a time. One “I’m here for you” at a time.

One…at…a….time.

Bakery Open

Remember my “you can’t get bread from a hardware store” analogy from my Turning Point in Trust blog ? I’ve been really letting that sink in. It takes a while to establish a new habit of going to the bakery when your auto-pilot keeps driving to the hardware store. But I’ve been trying. Day by day. Hour by hour.

Today I clicked on my Pray As You Go app on my way to work. The scripture on the screen….”I am the bread of life (John 6:35).”

This was God meeting me, telling me He is right here with me, reassuring me that the bakery is always open and never runs out of bread. That the bread at the bakery is satisfying and life-giving.

Now, I’m not going to get into the nuances of this analogy, since it pretty much breaks down for those of us who are gluten-free. I’ll just say that, even if you are gluten-free, what is better than a soft, warm, fluffy slice of fresh bread from the oven? And beyond the appeal to the senses, historically bread has been a nutritional staple in many cultures. It provided the basis for energy and life.

That is what I need — energy and life.

Today I am reminded that in God alone I find my sustenance, my strength, my joy, my deepest sense of comfort and peace. He is the bread of life.

Thank you, God, for meeting me right where I am….at my deepest point of need. For giving me life and being my life. You always show up for me.