Happy Saturday! Handsome and I were up early today. (Sleeping in, if we sleep at all, has become a distant memory.) We drank coffee with his sweet Dad. We watched the molten sunlight spread into every dark crevice of the downstairs. And we sat still, observing and evaluating the gradual acquaintance of our parrot, Bobby Pacino, with one of Harvey’s little dogs, Mia.
Archives for November 2013
Weird Domestic Hoarding
Following two weeks of steady visitors here at the farm, and immersed in this somewhat overnight seasonal shift from Indian Summer to Oklahoma Autumn, right now I am in full-on nesting mode. This is Day Two of deep cleaning, reorganizing, stocking, fluffing, and spit-shining around this place. I’m not subbing for a while, so I can look forward to lots of days like this. I truly love them.
I love the natural pace, the way the sunlight changes hourly, the quiet, the household smells. I love seeing the animals’ faces all day long, knowing they are okay. I love being here in case my husband or his Dad need something. I love the freedom to choose recipes that require many hours instead of stopping for take out. I love having time to bake and run long miles. I really love being caught up on the necessary things like grocery shopping, laundry, and ironing, so I can pursue other things like sewing aprons and painting lyrics on the bathroom wall. And making paper flowers. And maybe blogging.
But in the midst of so much peace and order, I am discovering a troubling fact about myself. I am a hoarder. Of the weirdest things. Today, straightening the kitchen pantry and the laundry corner of our garage, plus a few other spots, has revealed an embarrassing arsenal of purchased goods. I’m admitting it here in hopes that getting it out in the open will be the antidote to future hoarding.
Here are the things I have accidentally collected in excess:
- fabric softener (Even with three people in the house household now, I only do four or five loads of laundry per week. I need significantly less fabric softener than I am buying.)
- fabric spray starch (See above. Only once in my married life have I ran out of starch and really REALLY needed it. It must have been a scarring experience, because I swear I will never run out of it again.)
- lasagna noodles (Seriously confusing. Who is buying this?? I don’t even remember putting it in the buggy. I only cook lasagna like three times per YEAR. Why is there so much in the pantry? Is Handsome buying it secretly as a hint that he wants it? Doubtful.)
- spiral notebooks (Shocker.)
- garlic (Another big surprise. But at least I stopped buying dried herbs.)
- raffia and white twinkle lights (I own enough of these things for like three more houses.)
- Scentsy wax thingies (Save me from myself.)
- bananas (We could survive all winter on banana bread just from what I have in the freezer.)
- cans of crushed pineapple & cream of mushroom soup (???)
- conditioner for my hair (I have three big bottles, and that’s just upstairs. It doesn’t count the half-bottles I donate to the guest bathroom. Pretty sure it’s a fragrance thing, but it needs to stop.)
- chicken scratch and protein feed (Yes, this is necessary stuff, but for a few months now I have been buying too much, and it’s piling up in the barn. The funny thing is that the yard birds are omnivorous and easily the most flexible eaters on the farm. I could lighten up there.)
How it Goes
Last night we celebrated my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary here at the farm. Loved ones came from near and far to congratulate them and encourage them on a hard earned and really happy milestone. It was a lot of fun and much deserved. My parents are the best and are loved by so many people.
Still, of course, it was a terribly bittersweet celebration in the wake of losing Handsome’s Mom. When Judy passed away, she and Harvey were on the eve of their own fortieth anniversary party here at the farm. I don’t think we’ll ever forget that detail. So, as beautiful as the evening was in a thousand ways, it was fraught with difficult emotion. All rooted in love.
I will tell more of these stores as we go. For now, a sudden insight from video gaming.
Today after church, Handsome, his sweet Dad, and I went to lunch with Handsome’s sister and her beautiful family. Everyone is understandably steeped in sadness right now. The shock of their Mom’s death is wearing off. The crowds have all gone home. And the pain is visceral.
In a deliberate effort to lighten the mood and give the kids at the table something upbeat to think about for a while, my husband, “Uncle B” as he is known to the kids, struck up a conversation with our blue-eyed middle-school nephew Koston. About Minecraft.
Koston is a Minecraft devotee. A Minecraft guru. A Minecraft genius it’s fair to say.
Uncle B made a few remarks about the difficulty with which his own Minecraft adventure had recently started. He complained good-naturedly about the built-in obstacles and frustrating surprises that come with trying to build something from nothing in this imaginary digital world. He was playfully soliciting sympathy from his nephew.
Koston, this blue-eyed boy who I have come to love so dang much, grinned just a little, shook his head casually, and said, “That’s just how it goes at first.”
“That’s just how it goes?!” Uncle B objected with a measure of exaggeration. I couldn’t help but laugh. My husband has a way of slicing through a really thick atmosphere. I love him for this. Some people may interpret it as irreverence, but they’re flatly wrong. It’s nothing but love.
“That’s just how it goes.” Koston chuckled a little and shrugged one shoulder. I am guessing he thought it hilarious to be giving any kind of instruction to his tall, strapping, accomplished Uncle, the man who is anchoring the entire family right now. Koston’s blue eyes were as clear as Mexico waters, just gazing steadily through his few words. He knows his stuff. Especially when it comes to Minecraft.
“Okay! I guess!!” Uncle B laughed too and threw up his hands. Then he continued his mocked up complaints and prodding to get his boys to smile for a moment longer. For the most part, it worked.
I just keep wondering about the simple assurance Koston was providing with a grin and a shrug. That’s just how it goes at first. So true. What’s also true is how things tend to get better with time and effort. How the many games we play are still worth playing, no matter how difficult.
And I keep hoping that everyone has lots of people nearby to give them this assurance when needed. I know I need it. Life is hard. A lot hard. And that’s just how it goes at first. But I believe deep down that it gets better.
Be gentle with each other.
XOXOXOXO
Two Weeks Later, Love Remains
This is gonna be an unusual blog post. Please forgive me if it’s even more rambly than normal. I want to organize my thoughts and relay them poetically, with some meaning or message, but all I can muster right now are observations and a few cell phone photos.
The last two weeks since losing Handsome’s Mom have in many ways been unlike any others in my life. Daily, hourly, by the moment, life has been unpredictable and volatile. On the other hand, some beautiful, familiar ribbons of love and stability have carried us from day to day. While we are once again broken in many places, the most important things between us have not changed, they have only strengthened. For this I am so grateful.
The shock is just beginning to really fade. In its place I am seeing pain, confusion, loneliness, and much more. A flash of anger here and there. Judy was so much to so many people, that she is leaving a void no one person can fill. And she is gone far sooner than anyone was prepared to let her go.
This is a time everyone relies on God to fill the gaps in our hearts, and He does, if we wait. We all try to be of service to each other, to be used in any way He asks. Preparing meals, cleaning, laundering, driving, listening, praying, organizing, repairing… Anything. But the grief is so ongoing, so revealing of a love that is deep and forever, that no tasks we perform from day to day really feel like enough. So we just keep trying.
brightontheday |
Handsome’s sweet Dad, Harvey, is staying with us at the farm for as long as possible. I hope to share lots of his stories as time passes. He is wonderful, and many days I feel like I love him as much I love his son. We really appreciate having him here, and I only hope the togetherness is as good for him as it is for my husband. The farm had been filled with dozens of other beloved visitors day in and day out for the past two weeks, so now the three of us will begin to discover a new daily routine. I know already that everything will be different. That’s okay.
God is so good. I don’t have to look too hard to find hidden blessings, special skinny little silver linings that take the edge off the pain, but I also feel incredibly guilty enjoying those gifts. The circumstances under which they have been sent are so hard, and most times as daughter-in-law I feel like on onlooker, sometimes even an intruder into a dark, terrible, intimate family room. I loved Judy very much and admired her perhaps more than I ever realized, but my grief is completely different from everyone else’s. That’s probably normal, I don’t know.
The Tiny T love story will continue. I don’t feel like writing it exactly, but last week I was really surprised to learn that my in-laws had been reading the series together and had even started making guesses about what kind of woman T would end up with. So, especially because I love my father-in-law so much, T will return pretty soon. I missed the 31 day challenge again, but the love story will keep going for as long as it needs to.
The farm is torn between cold and balmy, between new life and a deep, chilling slumber. Several of us noticed with lots of wonder that the forests were all lush green until the day after the funeral. Now every branch is bearing as much gold, crimson, and russet as green. Still, though, the apple trees have been blooming again, like it’s spring time. The herbs are still growing like it’s June, except for the tell tale seed spikes begging to be collected. And we harvest peppers and tomatoes, day after day. Kind of amazing.
The horses have already found their thick, fuzzy winter coats. Chanta is so silky right now, so tempting. When I need to cry I go to the middle field and lay across him, combing my fingers deep through the gold and white hair all over his big belly, and he wraps his neck over me.
Today my baby brother and I will be preparing a fortieth wedding anniversary celebration for our parents. It’s a wonderful occasion, and I’m so excited, but of course it’s bittersweet. Judy passed away just hours before we were to celebrate forty years for her and Harvey. See? Life is so wildly extreme. So all over the place. We must be limber and strong.
As I finish writing this, the late morning sun is streaming passionately through the big east window. Mammoth plants and flowers from the funeral are everywhere, gilded now and illuminated by the fresh new day. Really pretty and really sad. Just like every other detail lately. The living room is absolutely pulsing with color and light, and I have no idea what to do about that.
Thanks so much for all of your kind words, for all of your prayers. Every single speck has been relayed to the family.
There is much more to say. I don’t know when I will write again, or about what, but for us life goes on. Love is steady and reliable, stronger than ever. There are dishes to rinse. Beds to be made smooth and comfortable. Animals to feed. Aprons to sew. There is plenty to do. And once again, for this I am so grateful.
Work is love made visible.
~Khalil Gibran
xoxoxoxo