Table for Six

Today was full of good things — meaningful work, authentic relationships, good food, sweaty workout.

Today at work, they asked me what would bless me for my birthday — a Starbucks run, lunch, ? I said, “Just being here blesses me.” They ordered lunch in, and we sat around the front office and chatted. I love the work I get to do and the team I get to do it with. They are good people. And we just plain like one another.

After work, I dropped by Hotworx for a cycle workout in 125-degree far infrared heat. My Garmin (fitness tracker) measures intensity level of each workout. It awarded me 60 moderate to intense workout minutes, based on heart rate, for only 48 minutes of actual workout time at Hotworx because you work harder in the infrared heat. If I don’t move my body, I’m not sane, and this combines getting my heart rate up and being hot. I love it!

Tonight, we had “book club” at my house. The past two meetings we have read nothing (we usually read our book when we get together), and we are now going on six months with the same book. I think it’s safe to say we are a group of friends who socialize and enjoy tasty treats each month while flipping through about 3/4 of a book per year. The main thing is, we love each other, we pray for each other, we are real with each other, and we talk instead of read if that’s what we need to do. Tonight, they brought me hydrangeas and a lemon pie for my birthday…and they sang Happy Birthday to me.

As wonderful as a day can be, most of the time there is a sense of, “But Chandler isn’t here.”

Sometimes now, I will realize at the end of a day that my head seems to have risen above that dark cloud and into the clear horizon of pure joy. But most of the time, it’s like there is a rope pulling me down when I start to rise above the deep missing. It’s not that I don’t think I deserve to have joy or to live a fulfilling life. It’s just that it hurts so damn much. I miss my son. It doesn’t feel right that he’s not here. Not normal. We are a family of six. We raised four kids. We had our granite kitchen island custom built to fit the six of us.

Another day filled with good things….but still, there should be six.

Tonight’s Chandler-ness:
4-24-99
Chandler: Mom, I don’t say bad words any more.
Mom: You don’t?
Chandler: No, I don’t.
Mom: Did you just say something bad?
Chandler: No, I don’t say bad words any more. If there’s a bad word in a movie, I don’t say it any more.
Mom: That’s great, babe.
Chandler: So can I watch Titanic?
Mom: No.

What Would I Do...?

Yesterday I wrote about my experience at Tahoe Treetop Adventure Park, traveling treetop to treetop via ziplines and swinging, bouncing aerial obstacles. I had to trust my equipment or I never would have stepped off any of the treetop platforms. I had to trust that if I fell off the tightrope stretched high above the ground, my equipment had me.

As I inched across sky-high (or so it felt) tightropes yesterday, I kept reassuring myself, “You don’t need to be afraid. If you fall, you will just dangle in the harness. Trust the equipment.”

I want to live like that every day. Not jumping off of high things with a harness around my crotch. But making choices based on trust that God’s got me rather than on fear of making a mistake.

I’m not advocating making stupid, impulsive decisions and trusting God to make it all turn out OK. I’m talking about trusting a God who is gracious, good, and loving. Who isn’t afraid or offended or angered by my mistakes…of which there have been plenty. He knows my heart, that I want to do the right thing. That I want to please Him.

So when I step off the sky-high platform, so to speak, I can trust that He has me. Even if I screw up and make a bad decision. Because, let’s face it, most of the time, He doesn’t write on our next Post-it Note—DO THIS or DON’T DO THAT! We WILL make mistakes. But He’s got us, and He can use anything and everything for good -- to grow us, to draw us closer to Him, to bless others.

One of my favorite podcasts is Typology with Ian Crohn. He often asks his guests, “What would you do if you weren’t afraid?”

That is a question that has been brewing in me. If I weren’t afraid of making a mistake, if I really trusted that God has me, what would I do?

I don’t think it was an accident that I was hanging from a harness on a tree-top zipline yesterday. I will return to that experience again and again as I lean into the question…

What would I do if I weren’t afraid?

Freedom

Yesterday was a great day! Fourth of July, y’all—woohoo!

Chase, Karen and I started out the day with an 8-mile hike. How could that ever be less than fantastic? Oh, don’t be a hater on the hat.

Later, we had dinner and then watched the movie Free Solo. That guy was like Spider-Man, only he climbed El Capitan without the luxury of sticky webs shooting out of his wrists to help him scale the thing! It was un-human what he did!

As the sun started to set, we walked down to the Rancho Santa Margarita Lake to watch the fireworks. This is the first year I’ve put down a blanket to save a spot, and lo and behold, it was still there when we arrived! It touches my heart every time I hear God Bless the USA while fireworks burst and light up the night.

We owe a debt of gratitude for every drop of blood that has been shed, every life that has been sacrificed, so that we can enjoy the freedoms we have here in America.

On July 1, 2019, Chandler Willis Espinoza found ultimate freedom. He now exists with no limits, no gravity.

On July 4, 1983, Ruth Taylor Vickery, my mom, found ultimate freedom…her suffering from lung cancer ceased, and she was reunited with all her family and friends who had gone before her. And now she has met her grandson.

What a week it’s been. All the memories, emotions, thoughts. The love. The missing. The celebrating. The grieving. The hope.

Thank you, God, for the hope of ultimate freedom. We don’t need to fear what’s next or whether our loved ones are OK. After this, there is greater freedom than we could ever fathom. Amen.

And more Chandler-ness:

7-3-99 We were visiting Palm Springs. It was 105 degrees. Chandler: In Palm Springs, when you run, it gets hotter.

8-13-99 You know what I like most about Jesus and God? It’s that they love us so much. And we love them back. I like lots of stuff about Jesus and God.

2-8-01 Yesterday you came home from school and (as you peed in the bathroom with the door open) you nonchalantly said, “Mom, you know what seems to be a problem? There’s this kid that sits next to me in class, and he smells like boogers.”

One More Piece of Normal

Today I went back to the gym I’ve belonged to for 28 years, 24-Hour Fitness. I think it’s one of the best values around. In addition to the cardio and resistance machines and the grunt-filled weight room, they offer a huge variety of classes that keep up with whatever is on trend in the fitness world — spin, HIIT, yoga, row, etc. I love variety, so for 28 years, I’ve been an early adaptor to every type of workout they’ve come out with. As much as I love it, I haven’t wanted to go to a class there since, well, you know.

I haven’t really been able to put my finger on why I didn’t want to go back to the classes I’ve enjoyed for decades. But tonight, as I sat down to write, I think I uncovered the answer. That gym is a piece of history in my life that pre-dates Chandler’s birth. I actually rode a razor scooter to the 24-Hour Fitness in Irvine when I was pregnant with Chandler. Since July 2, 1991, every time I took a class at 24-Hour Fitness, I had a son on this earth named Chandler.

Until today.

It felt so good to be back. Familiar. Friendly. And hard! Body Pump today, sore glutes and shoulders tomorrow.

I think I’ve crossed another threshold to a piece of my old normal. Though nothing will ever be the same, I see glimmers of hope that old and new can commingle.

Many more thresholds to go.

Trust Me

This morning I was scrolling through my “Calm” app and ran across a 10-minute meditation on self-trust. I tapped on it and settled in for a few minutes of peace and tranquility. At the end of the quiet meditation, the facilitator talked a bit about how important it is to trust yourself.

Yesterday I was reading The Next Right Thing by Emily P. Freeman, and she also talked about trusting yourself, specifically in the context of decision making. She said that when you’re considering the next right thing, it’s less about hearing from everyone else, including the experts, and more about finding a quiet, still place within – to allow God space to form the vision in you for the next right thing.

I’m seeing a common theme here.

The rub for those of us raised in religious circles is that we’ve been told over and over how lowly and worm-like we are, so why on earth would we be able to trust ourselves. We can only trust God, right?! And what about the scripture that says, “Trust in the Lord with all of your heart and lean not on your own understanding”? Doesn’t that mean we aren’t supposed to trust ourselves, only God?

I think Emily Freeman shed some light on this for me. She said, “If [Jesus] lives within you, then that means he speaks, even now…Trust the voice that comes from within.”

We have to make decisions in our lives. Every single day. Sometimes they are fairly inconsequential; other times, they are monumental. And guess what…God doesn’t typically show up with a billboard message, writing in the sky, or an audible voice from heaven to tell us what to do. I tend to rely heavily on the input of others in making decisions – from throw pillow colors to future career aspirations. I think one of the things God is doing in my heart is helping me learn to trust the voice within.

This year, the first without Chandler, I am not planning to make any big life decisions. What I’m doing now is creating space within for God to form His vision for what’s next. Creating space to know Christ in a deeper way and to see more clearly who I am in Him. This is the path toward self-trust.

God, help me learn to trust myself -- the voice within -- because you, Creator of the universe and of my heart, are alive in me. Amen.

The Ring

A couple of weeks ago, I decided to buy myself a ring. I had no preconceived ideas about what the ring would look like, just what it would symbolize.

God is doing a deep work in my heart, and one of the central themes of this work is my learning that I can trust Him as my ultimate source—for practical needs, for unconditional love, for security, for joy, for peace, for grace, for wisdom, for a sense of centeredness.

My God will liberally supply your every need according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus (Philippians 4:19).

That’s a pretty tall order to fill — I’ve never been in a season of more profound need. And, believe me, there’ve been some doozies.

What I have seen over and over is God showing up with exactly what I need in the moment. So what does it look like to trust Him as the source for every need I could ever have? Well, I don’t know because I’m in process. I may never arrive at that point fully in this lifetime.

Here’s one thing I am doing to practice trust rather than worry. When I wake up in the morning, I try to turn my first thought to a scripture or a song of worship or an inspirational saying like Let Go and Let God. That helps determine which channel will start playing in my head as I go about getting ready for the day. It’s easier to start off like that than to begin the day with anxious rumination and then try to change the channel.

Another thing …my new ring. I decided I wanted a ring that would serve as a constant reminder to me — everything you need is in God. I told my friend Carole about wanting to find such a ring, and she took me to a cute little shop in Wenatchee yesterday called Tumbleweed. After trying on several different rings, I felt drawn to one that was hand-made by husband/wife artists from Colorado featuring three bands, separated by two tiny stones. Three bands — Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

I love my new ring, a constant reminder of my God’s generous abundance.

Space to Thrive

Another day surrounded by mountains, trees, and water. This is the refreshment and renewal my soul craves. Nature.

The morning started with a gluten-free chocolate-dipped coconut macaroon and a near-perfect decaf lavender latte’ from a coffee shop in Pybus Public Market sipped while walking around the Columbia River. Flowers, foliage, and interesting art/sculptures line the riverwalk. I could easily get used to this.

Next, Carole took me to a little store called Tumbleweed (more about what I bought in another blog post). Then we went home to relax for a bit before our next adventure — a trip up to Leavenworth, a quaint little Bavarian village nestled at the foot of the Cascade Mountains beside the Wenatchee River. In one of the shops, I found some really cute sandals that actually felt comfortable on my left foot, the one that insists on causing me chronic pain from plantar fasciitis and a bunion. So that was an unexpected, welcome discovery. Also enjoyed yummy chicken tortilla soup at a restaurant called South.

Our stroll around the river was the icing on the cake. The wind blew through the trees, their swaying branches covered in every shade of green reaching toward the heavens. Carole and I agreed — our favorite color combination is any shade of green against the azure expanse of sky.

We went home and hung out for a bit before a craving for frozen yogurt hit — plain old chocolate never disappoints. On our way home, Carole showed me the hospital where Jay (her husband) serves on the senior leadership team as well as her office where she works as an audiologist.

I love their town.

Tonight we indulged in a guilty pleasure — some of Jay’s homemade bread, Columbia Valley cabernet, and The Bachelorette. Notice that? I get a gluten-free macaroon in the morning and eat a big hunk of extra-gluten bread tonight. My game. My rules.

BTW…I’m not judging, but I hope they have some Acyclovir and Abreva on hand because if one person on The Bachelorette gets a cold sore, they are ALL doomed!

God, you made so many different colors and textures and landscapes and climates that there truly is a place for everyone’s soul to thrive. Thank you for bringing me to this place to be filled with such good things — the unconditional love of a lifelong friend, the natural beauty of Wenatchee and its surrounding areas, and food that pleases every tastebud. Amen.

Beauty in Each Scene

How can one day be filled with so much beauty and just plain good stuff?!!! I am overflowing with gratitude for every moment of this day.

Scene One: After SLEEPING IN, the day starts with a delicious almond latte with Carole in her tree-lined, grassy backyard while petting Delilah (the airedale) and Brandy (the yorkie).

Scene Two: Carole and I spend about three and a half hours at Slidewaters, a water park in nearby Chelan, along with her awesome daughter Jenny and Jenny’s friend Aubrey. While floating in the lazy river, a kid in front of me kicks water on me, taking my breath away. My immediate instinct is to yell, “Stop splashing!” I restrain myself since the entire point of Slidewaters is to get wet. And after all, most of my adult years spent at such water parks were spent with the Espinoza kids who were kicking cold water onto adults who probably did not want to get soaked. What goes around comes around.

Scene Three: We visit a lovely restaurant and winery called Tsillan Cellars. Maybe because we look sun-drenched and desperately hungry, they let us in even though they are closing to get ready for dinner. We order several share-worthy tasty items — margherita pizza, two different salads, a charcuterie plate, and spaghetti with meatballs — along with a wonderful bottle of syrah. Sitting outside in the sunshine overlooking the shimmering lake, I am thankful that God decided to equip our eyes with cones that enable us to discern color and to create a world full of every shade of purple, green, blue, red, and brown for us to enjoy as we sit at a table in Chelan savoring the company of good friends.

Scene Four: Next stop, Fielding Hills Winery. Simply gorgeous views from our adirondack chairs perched on the lawn. Such a treat to chat with the owners, friends of Jay and Carole, while slowly sipping a malbec first, then a cabernet, sunshine bathing us from head to toe.

Scene Five (up next): It’s almost 8:00, and it’s still so light outside! Scene five, still to come, entails lounging in our PJs in the living room watching a movie, probably Mama Mia.

God, I am in awe of your creation. I am reminded that nature is absolutely how I connect best with you, and I need to be intentional about placing myself in these spaces in order to renew my soul continuously. You are beautiful, and you make beautiful things. Amen.

Happy Birthday and Going to Church

Today began with a Happy Birthday kiss for my handsome husband. Then we walked downtown for, you guessed it, DOUGHNUTS! Not one doughnut place, but two! First, we went to Chip’s birthday pick, Top Pot Doughnuts, and then to the new place we found yesterday, Tempesta, where I got the Almond Joy doughnut I’d been fantasizing about since yesterday. It did not disappoint. Well, maybe just a tad bit — yesterday’s lemon glazed was still warm, so it got bonus points.

We dropped Chip off at the airport and headed to Wenatchee where Jay and Carole live. I get to spend some time with Carole for a few days, which always makes me a better human being.

On the way, we stopped at Snoqualmie Falls. So many vibrant shades of green and foliage of all shapes and sizes leading down to the spectacular waterfall. Aaagghhh…my happy place. This is where I feel closest to God. In the middle of His creation. What an artist He is to paint with so many textures and colors!

After the falls, we stopped for lunch. I kid you not, it was one of the best salads I’ve ever eaten — kale, peanuts, cabbage, red pepper, cilantro, jalapeno, chicken and a vinaigrette dressing.

Then we went to church. Well, that’s what it felt like to me. For the remaining hour-long drive, I gazed out the window at the towering verdant sanctuary surrounding me on both sides. Carole played some of the most beautiful worship music I’ve heard. My soul was full. Every word of every song was an affirmation that I am loved supremely by the One who created the breathtaking beauty I was blessed to bask in today.

At 9:30, we are going to see the movie Aladdin. I may need a doughnut to keep me awake.

Happy Day

Today was a day of no sad feelings for me. Though Chandler was never far from my thoughts, I somehow stayed above the plumbline that separates sorrow and joy. I’m not saying this is a goal to shoot for every day or that it makes a day “good” or “bad.” Just saying that for whatever reason, today I didn’t have any tearful moments.

It’s been such a treat hanging out with Jay and Carole, our dear friends for 35 years. The morning started at one of Seattle’s iconic breakfast places that came highly recommended — The Biscuit Bitch. Not gonna lie…I got a satisfying sense of permissible naughtiness when I walked up to the counter to order and had to say, “I’ll have your BitchWitch, please.” On the down side, while the biscuits were ok, they were not close to being worth the 45-minute wait. Not my mama’s Texas biscuits by a long shot.

Immediately after the biscuits, we got a fresh, warm lemon-glazed doughnut from a coffee shop called Tempesto. Because why would you not consume a big fat doughnut within minutes of finishing a sausage, egg, and cheese biscuit sandwich?

We shopped downtown Seattle a bit then went to the Museum of Pop Culture. There’s a really cool Prince exhibit and an exhibit called A Queen Within that featured various fashion designers’ interpretations of female archetypes. I readily admit, I’m just not smart enough to understand how the exhibit of the black stilettos with molars (yes TEETH) covering the heels relates to a female archetype.

Tonight we went to see Wicked at the Paramount Theatre just a block from our hotel. Chip and I had seen it on Broadway a long time ago, and I have to say, the two lead actresses in this production were funnier and brought a unique flavor to the characters Elphaba and Glenda. One of the most powerful messages of this play, for me, is — extend grace, because you never know someone’s story.

Thank you, God, for a day filled with beautiful, warm, interesting, light-hearted moments with beautiful, warm interesting, light-hearted friends. Such simple gifts that bring such a depth of joy. Amen.

A Hip Coffee Shop and Psalm 23

This morning started with sleeping in. That would be enough to characterize the entire day as GREAT! But then it got even better. I walked across the street from our hotel to a coffee shop called Mr. West and ordered an avocado toast and an iced chai tea latte. By way of explanation, avocado toast is a simple concoction consisting of bread and avocado for which, apparently, it is acceptable to charge almost $10.

While waiting in line, I saw that there were no empty seats in the place….except ONE. Right behind me, in a corner facing the street, was a single open seat. I sat down with my book and knew that spot at the table had been waiting just for me. The sun shone down on the pages of my latest read, The Next Right Thing by Emily P. Freeman.

As I began to read Emily’s paraphrase of Psalm 23, I was moved with gratitude.

God is your Shepherd; he provides what you need. He invites you to lie down in green pastures. He leads you beside quiet waters. He restores your soul. He leads you in paths of righteousness for the sake of his own name. Even when you walk through the valley of the shadow of death, you don’t have to be afraid. He will provide comfort. He prepares a table for you and takes care of you…

I sat in my spot at the table prepared for me and basked in the warmth of God’s love and care. Every part of this psalm speaks to me now in ways it never did before. It is real to me. Every part of this psalm speaks to what my soul needs most.

Thank you, God, for preparing a place for me at the table this morning where I could soak in the sunshine, the wise words of a good book, and the reality of your constant love and care for me. Thank you!

Pizza & Ice Cream in Seattle

Five-thirty am comes awfully early. But it’s well worth it when it means you arrive in Seattle by 10:30 and still have the entire day to explore downtown, shop, eat pizza twice, and end the day with cookie dough plus ice cream in a waffle cone.

Chip has a speaking engagement tomorrow here in Seattle, and he invited me to come along. Tomorrow afternoon, friends we’ve known since Chip’s mullet days are coming to meet us.

There is only one other person on this planet besides me who knows what it’s like to lose their son Chandler. Chip and I talk about him a lot. We talked about him a lot today. Talking about Chandler doesn’t make a day bad or good. Talking about Chandler feels as natural as breathing to us. He is as much a part of our family now as he was before January 1.

We both hurt for our other kids. Nothing is worse than knowing your kids are in pain — physical or emotional. And right now, Chip and I are fully aware that losing their brother — it just absolutely sucks. We also know that every difficult experience in life can be an opportunity to develop deeper compassion, broader insight, and stronger character. I’m not saying that’s all worth the price of losing Chandler. We would like him back, thank you. I’m just saying that given the reality of losing Chandler, one of the good things that can come of it is that we show up in the world as better human beings for having gone through this whole painful ordeal.

It is such a strange journey, this journey of grief. One minute we are talking about the tempting items on the menu in front of us, the next about how much we miss Chandler eating everything out of the refrigerator.

But we are honoring Chandler. Moving forward one step, one hour, one day, one week, one month at a time.

Thank you, God, for crispy, fresh pizza, a beautiful view of the water, a partner to grieve with, and a big-screen TV in our hotel on which I can now watch some mindless show and just veg out. So grateful for the down time. Amen.

Go Aunt Cho!

What a night! If it were the Oscars, you could say Aunt Cho (pronounced SHOW) swept the awards.

Tonight we celebrated Aunt Cholene’s graduation from her residency at Cedars Sinai in Los Angeles and the completion of her ten-year journey to become Dr. Cholene Espinoza, OB-Gyn. As if becoming a doctor weren’t enough, she was the honored recipient of three awards — Leo G. Rigler, MD Award for Academic Achievement, Nurses Award for Outstanding Chief Resident, and Carol Jordan-Harris, MD Resident Award for Community Service. Aunt Cho rocked the house!

Here’s the thing about Cholene. You would never know by having a conversation with her that she was one of the first women to fly the U2 spy plane, that she had been a pilot for United Airlines, and that she had been an embedded reporter in Iraq before deciding to go to medical school at the age of 44. She doesn’t brag. She just does stuff. Amazing stuff.

We have watched her up close on this journey. And I can say that there is no physician I would want more at my bedside given any critical situation. She deeply cares about her patients. She is constantly researching the latest literature to ensure she is providing the highest level of medical care — she never phones it in. And she respects the dignity of her patients by presenting them with every option along with pros and cons so that they can make the most informed decisions possible. She is committed to patient autonomy.

We could not have been prouder to celebrate Aunt Cho tonight. I wish with all my heart the little guy she used to take skating at the El Toro marine base could have been there to cheer with us.

When Chandler was in the hospital, Aunt Cho drove down from LA almost every day, even amidst the grueling schedule of a resident. She was our interpreter, our advisor, our advocate. She has always been Chandler’s hero. At the end, she was his champion.

Chase said it best when he told Cholene tonight, “Aunt Cho, if the only reason you went to med school was to be there for Chandler, it was worth it.” She agreed.

Dear God, thank you for every point of provision that made it possible for Aunt Cho to enter med school and to not only persevere and finish, but to finish with the highest commendations of respect from her fellow residents, faculty members, and all those with whom she has served these past four years. Thank you for allowing us to have this extraordinary human being in our lives. Please continue to bless the work of her hands and heart as she begins this new season as Dr. Cholene Espinoza. Amen.

Father's Day...the First One

Chip’s story is not mine to tell today. I can’t adequately describe his feelings this first Father’s Day without his youngest son. What I can say with certainty is it’s hard.

I also know he’s grateful for our family. This weekend, we have not only our kids with us, but also Cholene, Ellen, Aunt Val, and Grandma Shari (aka Chip’s mom).

It’s been a wonderful couple of days just hanging out together, eating way more than we probably should, and interjecting Chandler stories throughout.

Tonight, Chip, Aunt Val, Chance, and I went to a concert — Train with Goo Goo Dolls. I bought the tickets November 15 thinking it would be a nice Father’s Day gift. Chip loves Train and has always wanted to see them in concert. When we drove to Whistler to take the boys skiing one time (I was pregnant with Charli), we listened to Drops of Jupiter from the airport to our hotel.

I was dancing and smiling up until Train sang When I Look to the Sky. It wrecked me.

When I look to the sky something tells me you're here with me
And you make everything alright
And when I feel like I'm lost something tells me you're here with me
And I can always find my way when you are here

I closed my eyes, and all I could think of was my sweet boy watching over me. Aunt Val hugged me tight, our faces wet with tears. That song was a message to me. I know Chandler is here. I just wish I could touch him…hear his voice.

As Father’s Day 2019 comes to a close, I am grateful tonight that my kids have a dad who loves them fiercely. He has always done whatever he could to make sure they have opportunities to explore their passions — soccer, music, education, travel, BMX biking. He is their fan and wants them to pursue what fulfills them. He has always been playful, not afraid to get in the mix and look silly.

Chandler was so proud of his dad. They shared a passion for golf and swapped stories all the time. Chandler’s famous line was, “You should have seen me on the range.”

God, please continue to comfort Chip’s heart. Thank you for giving him the strength every day to keep putting one foot in front of the other despite the heaviness. Thank you for giving our kids a dad who truly enjoys being their dad. Amen.

Blessed by the Heart of a Child

This week my friend Heidi called and told me her son Max wanted to go clean up Chandler’s bike memorial and bring some fresh flowers. Chandler used to give Max golf lessons. I remember Chandler making lunch to take to Max for the lesson. He took seriously the trust Dave and Heidi were placing in him to teach their son the basics of golf. Heidi asked if I wanted to join them at the bike memorial. We decided on today at 2:30.

I arrived first and looked through the notes that have been left in a little wooden box beside the bike. Some of them are nothing but faded ink on slips of paper, evidence of the frequent rains we’ve had since the memorial was set up. Even the faded, wordless slips speak to me of love for Chandler.

When Dave, Heidi, and Max got there, Max set to work with “grandma’s special cleaner” wiping down the white bike that reminds everyone who passes that somewhere a mother, a father, a sister, a brother, an aunt, a grandmother, a friend is hurting.

Heidi hugged me. I cried. I realized that in just one hour, it would be exactly six months ago that the unthinkable became reality. I hate….I absolutely hate….what happened to my son at that place. I don’t know if I will ever stop battling images of the story my mind seems bent on creating about that afternoon.

There was a reverence in the way Max approached this sacred task. He took such great care. He had picked out the flowers himself and arranged them thoughtfully in the vases that were sitting in front of the bike, vases that had recently held fresh flowers offered with love for Chandler. Max brought a ceramic bumble bee from a state report project he had done at school. He wanted to leave it for Chandler.

My heart is moved whenever I see something new on the bike. It reminds me that people are still thinking of my son, missing him, wanting to demonstrate their love for him. Today I saw a golf ball on the bike seat with the brand name “Legend I." That is fitting. Someone else brought a golf club, and there were a couple more golf balls.

Before leaving, I told Max, “Thank you. I know this means a lot to Chandler, and it means a lot to us.” He said quietly, “I just wanted to come. I just wanted to come and clean it.”

God, thank you for laying it on a young man’s heart to come and care for Chandler’s bike memorial on a day that you knew I would need some extra TLC. Amen.

Amazing Grace and Barbecue

This morning at Mission Hills, we had a time of worship to start the day. I couldn’t sing. I just cried. My heart and soul resonated with the words of each song — “Amazing grace, how sweet the sound…I could sing of your love forever…Lord, you are good to me.” I stood in my weakness and smallness and infinite need and basked in God’s strength and greatness and sufficiency.

And it still hurt like hell.

Can I say how good it feels to fall into the arms of a friend who cries and hurts with you, when all you can do is sob and say, “It’s just too much…too much”? Thank you, Gail.

Tonight I went to SweatStar for hot yoga. It’s been a while because I had that post drilled into my bone for the dental implant last week and was supposed to stay out of the extreme heat. Guess what my word was tonight on the mat? Surrender. That is the theme of my life right now.

Surrender. In “12-step” terms, that’s another word for “turning my will and my life over to God.” That pretty much covers everything. I am open handed. I don’t have a lot of answers right now. So I wake up and pray, “God, I give you this day and everything in it. I have no agenda or strategy. I just need you to be with me and help me take the next right step, do the next right thing.”

And He just keeps showing up.

Oh, also, today….there was barbecue.

Beyond the Grey

This morning I woke up to a greyish sky outside my window. I decided that, at least for the moment, my mood was not going to be grey. First, I brushed my teeth. While getting ready, I played Third Day’s God of Wonders. I needed to focus on God, on how much bigger He is than anything I am facing or could ever face.

I’m not minimizing or denying my pain or the difficulty of my circumstances. They are real, and quite honestly, I didn’t check these boxes.

But often when I choose to acknowledge God in His holiness — that He is perfectly complete in love, wisdom, power, righteousness — I open myself to hope. I find strength. I see possibilities. My heart feels lighter.

This is not a formula for bypassing grief. There are times when listening to a song about God just makes me sad that Chandler is with Him and not with me. I haven’t mastered the art of engineering all my neurons to fire, “Don’t worry be happy because, after all…there’s God!”

I can say that more often than not, when I turn my thoughts toward the truth of who God is, it just helps me. Whether I’m facing a grey morning or a painful memory or a crappy situation, I am trying to learn to shift my focus, at least for a couple of minutes, to my Higher Power. When I use that term, it captures exactly what I need…to be reminded that He is higher, bigger, greater. And yet, He is right here with me.

Thank you, my loving Higher Power, that I can look to you and find some respite from the grey. Thank you for bringing color and light. Amen.

Bowling with the Tribe

Last night, Chase, Karen, Charli, Chance and I had a blast bowling with the Tribe, some of Chandler’s best friends. They really are simply the best. And, as usual, there’s nothing better than having my kids all together. Not even sure who won, but I’m pretty sure I know who lost.

According to Charli, my form was way off. I fell on the lane three times. No alcohol was involved. If alcohol were involved, perhaps I would have done better. Even with two strikes and a couple of spares, I think I barely broke 60. Why can’t they give a handicap or something like in golf? If you get it in the gutter half the time, you get to add points to your score because you’re showing consistency.

It did my heart good to see everyone having so much fun together. We didn’t pick bowling randomly. It’s something the Board & Brew gang does together…that Chandler used to do. Brendan says he was really good, had a crazy spin shot. And I’m sure he looked good doing it, nasty bowling shoes and all. What I wouldn’t give to have had him filling the final spot on our lane last night.

There will be many more hangouts like last night. It’s good for all of us.

Today I popped into our kindergarten graduation at Mission Hills, but I couldn’t stay long. Memories of how cute Chandler was at that age flooded my mind, and I left in tears. Like I said before, sometimes you can predict what is going to punch you in the gut. Other times, it just comes out of nowhere.

Also, I think I pulled a glute muscle while executing one of my special bowling moves I like to call “the kick back.” It ends with your legs sprawled out in the lane while your butt is resting just behind the foul line. Don’t try it. It’s only for the pros.

Surrender

Out of every crisis comes the chance to be reborn, to reconceive ourselves as individuals, to choose the kind of change that will help us to grow and to fulfill ourselves more completely. Nena O’Neill

God is doing something deep in my heart. It has been shaken to the core, gripped with grief, shattered in pieces. And yet, it still beats. It has been rearranged. It will never look the same. And yet, it still beats. It still hopes.

In the midst of the shuffling of priorities and perspectives that comes with grief, something else is happening. Something beyond just trudging through this muck and mess of pain and missing and gut punches. God is at work. He is loving, kind, patient, gracious, gentle, wise. I don’t know exactly what He’s up to, but I know that whatever it is, it is good.

Today while driving, I listened to a song that broke me the first time I heard it years ago when I had three little boys — I Surrender All by Clay Crosse. I was driving home from a spiritual growth conference, and I popped in this new CD. I was a bit overwhelmed with all the busyness of being a mom to three spirited little boys, and I was lamenting that I just wasn’t “accomplishing” very much.

As I began listening to the words of this song that day, tears started to flow. The chorus says:

I surrender all my silent hopes and dreams
Though the price to follow costs me everything
I surrender all my human soul desires
If sacrifice requires that all my kingdoms fall
I surrender all

The most important place for me in that season was right there with my little boys. Reading Chandler’s message to me from a few Mother’s Days back confirms it. There are some things in life that maybe I will regret. One thing I was never willing to regret — not being present for my family. This song was part of my journey toward giving up and allowing myself the freedom to embrace every messy moment of those busy days with my sons without angst about what “greater” thing I wasn’t accomplishing.

The Bridge says:
Everything I am, all I’ve done and all I’ve known
Now belongs to you; the life I live is not my own
Just as Abraham laid Isaac on a sacrificial fire
If all I am is all that you desire
I surrender all

I had no idea that so many years after hearing that song the first time, after having it become an anthem for a season of transformation, that I would listen again, under circumstances I never dreamed I would be able to bear. And again, it would become an anthem for a new season.

Jesus, I don’t know how to open my hands any wider. I surrender everything. You are the one who loves me most, who knows me best, who created me, who is always, ALWAYS, going before me to make a way where there seems like there’s no way. I trust you with my heart. I trust that this good work you are doing in me will continue and that I will look more like you because of it. Amen.

Everything in Order

This morning, a former Mission Hills student and friend dropped by with a coffee boba for me — WHAT!!?? It was one of the best bobi (bobas just doesn’t look right) I’ve ever had. What a great way to start my day — surprise drinkable bliss within five minutes of arriving at work and a hug from Hannah, the bearer of this newfound flavor delight.

But I saw tears in Hannah’s eyes, and she asked, “Have you heard yet?”

The husband of one of our friends and former Mission Hills teachers had passed away early this morning. Immediately, it felt real. It’s not a foreign concept for me any more. This sudden ripping away of your normal. The ground opening up and swallowing your life. Or at least the part that really means something to you. My most authentic response is, “That just sucks.”

After Hannah and her mom left my office, I sat there alone for a minute. I felt sad for my friend who is now a widow. I felt especially sad for their three daughters who all celebrate graduations this month…now without their dad.

I felt selfish when the sadness turned inward and triggered my own pain. It’s like the movie that was playing scenes of what was happening for my friend right now suddenly changed reels and began showing a trailer of a movie called Losing Chandler. I started to cry. By that time, another friend at work had come in to ask me something, and I told her this was bringing back everything. She hugged me and prayed for me. Thank you, God, for my Mission Hills family, for my safe place.

I was glad that I had a counseling appointment and a float session scheduled for this afternoon. I’m doing everything that I think will be helpful for me to take care of myself. It’s taken me a long time to learn that it is not selfish to love yourself. Why would we be called to love everyone else, but not ourselves? I am responsible for myself. I don’t need to wait for someone else to say, “Maybe you should rest…or exercise…or nourish your body with good food…or go to counseling…or…….”

Aaaaaahhhh, my float session. Just like last time, I fell asleep. It’s so weird that you can sleep while floating and not drown. I’m becoming a pro. Didn’t even need the spray bottle of water because I know all the tricks for not getting salt water in my eyes now. I left feeling calm, refreshed and rested. It’s like some kind of brain rewiring that makes all the static go away.

The best part of the day — I picked up Charli from the airport after her trip to Georgia to visit a friend. Between my float and the airport pick-up, I dropped by Grocery Outlet and picked up some groceries and healthy snacks I knew Charli would be excited to try. I did have a momentary lapse where I looked at the milk and thought, “I should get a jug for Chandler.”

I love Grocery Outlet. I spent $125, saved $119. Booyah!

We got home from the airport, and I escorted Charli upstairs to her room. She was shocked! My friend Penny had come on Saturday to help me organize Charli’s room before she got home from her trip. In less than three hours, Penny did the miraculous. The entire floor in Charli’s room was visible, clean clothes were all neatly put away, and everything was organized. Then, and this is how crazy Penny is, she asked me to please let her fold the rest of Charli’s clothes after I had washed the FIVE laundry hampers we had collected. I could have resisted, but who am I to rob my friend of a blessing, right?

I wish sometimes life could be like Charli’s room. Everything in order. Everything making sense. Everything neat and tidy. That’s not how it is. Not today. Not most days. Just like Charli will begin to live in her room again and it will no longer be the picture-perfect Marie Kondo-ized space that I’ve been in awe of since Saturday, so it is with life. It is messy and painful and confusing and joyous and celebratory, and most often, it all gets mixed up together. Sometimes all in one day.

A day of boba, bad news, welcome home hugs, and perfectly folded t-shirts.