Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

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back into the light

Good Sunday morning friends. I’ll be short and sweet today.

One of the books I’m reading this week is A Million Little Ways by Emily Freeman. It is soaking into me, plumping up the dry corners of my heart and making my thoughts lush again. She is giving me lots of good stuff to reconsider, lots of exciting ideas about the power of faith and imagination, the trajectory of thought and energy. But what’s different about this book compared to the others I’ve read recently is how it’s all based on a firm scriptural foundation.

sunlight green starts

I am a fairly positive person, especially after some hard lessons I’ve learned these past few years. I’ve learned that your attitude and imagination are crucial to your well being. And they are choices.

But when faced with the deepest, heaviest weights in my heart I tend to worry. It’s a slippery slippery slope, you know? One negative, fearful thought leads to another, which makes you start with the what ifs and the imaginary conversations with difficult people and then you are up at three in the morning all week and your husband says you look miserable lately and your best friend is asking about you secretly, is she okay?

Well, by now I know that fear is the opposite of faith.

That appreciation trumps expectation.

And that worry is a sin. It’s forbidden.

These things are firm in my heart, and thankfully the moments I slip up are now few and far between. But they do happen. Because sometimes life is heavy and the people we love are walking in the wilderness. I have so many stories to share with you. For now, let’s see where this beautiful, inspirational book leads:

We all have our unique shape of fear.
There are no greener grasses, only different lawns.
~Emily Freeman

Isn’t that true?

I have a dear friend who is wildly generous with sharing her appreciation and love for other people. She is one of the strongest encouragers I know, among the most passionate and loyal girlfriends I have ever had. But she never sees her own beauty. She often longs to be the women she admires and forgets how loving, smart, beautiful, and hilarious she is. How magnetic. And maybe she thinks all other lawns are greener, not just different. I wish I could help her. I know she would take away my fears and worries if she could. Over the years she has certainly tried, and I love her for it.

disco with green and sun

But neither of us really can operate each other’s mind, which is the real battleground. So we make little loving gestures, send sweet, sincere notes, and pray for each other. We try to insulate each other’s hearts from the cold and the poison of the world so that we can make healthy choices with our own thoughts, our own emotional, manifesting choices.

With the love and care of my husband and close friends and the power of prayer, I really am coming out of the shadow of worry (again). Back in the bright, warming light (again), but in an even better frame of mind than before. Because I learned a lot from this brief second season of dark. I’m not even upset about it, because I know God understands and forgives. He won’t waste this energy slump either.

Jesus shows himself through you in a million little ways.
Perhaps more often than not,
they are ways you can’t plan for,
don’t intend, and may never even know about.
There is no waste in the visible or invisible work of God.
~Emily Freeman

Your life if green and beautiful, even if there are dead spots and even if the weeds and wildflowers look different to you than what you see elsewhere. You can love people even if you can’t live for them. God will help you make use of every single thing in your life. Train your thoughts, okay? Make sure your imagination supports your prayers. Help each other remember. Forgive yourself when you forget. Life is so beautiful and good.

I sabotage the gift with my limited view of God’s provision.
~Emily Freeman
XOXOXOXO

 

 

fast & flourless peanutbutter cookies

The first time I made these cookies, my first daughter had just been born. As I type this she is a beautiful, forward-moving nineteen year old young woman, and I couldn’t even guess how many batches of this recipe I have baked between then and now.

 

pb cookies bowl unmixed

 

When she was a baby, my Grandpa used to call me all the time, sometimes every day, to see how I was managing and could he tell me how to do something? (I wasn’t much older then than she is now. Yikes!) Yes, of course, I always wanted to hear from him! Grandpa Stubbs is one of the most knowledgeable people in my life, and he has always been funny and sweet and eager to share everything with us. Especially cooking and gardening secrets. He was also a traveling and telephone salesman throughout his career, so he knows how to get your attention. Well, one day he called excitedly to tell me all about the best peanut butter cookies in the world. Either he had just discovered this magic or he had just remembered it to share; it’s hard to say.

“Honey, I know you’ve eaten peanut butter cookies before. I am sure they’re good. But you have never and I mean never had cookies like this. Now I want to tell you how to make them, but it’s complicated, ok? And you might need to write down the recipe, are you ready? Okay. There are lots of ingredients. Don’t forget! They are all very important. Ready?”

“Almost ready Grandpa!” I vividly recall holding my daughter as she nursed, unwinding the long corkscrew phone cord, and finding an envelope to write on. “Okay go.” Even then I loved collecting food and cooking ideas.

“Okay you need some peanut butter. You need some sugar. And you need an egg. Do you have those things?” Looking back, these spontaneous recipe phone calls might have been his and Grandma’s way of monitoring how well I was eating. I catch myself texting such questions to my daughter now. Wait, wasn’t she a tiny nursing baby just a few minutes ago?

“Yep, I have all of that Grandpa, are you sure that’s all I need?” This scored me a deep belly laugh from him, because of course I was obnoxious enough to audit his recipe.

“Yes, honey that’s all you need. One of each. One cup of sugar, one cup of peanut butter, and one egg. That’s it!” Then he laughed again, generously, like he had told me the best joke ever. We laughed together. I love him so much.

These were his gardening boots which he gave to me when we bought this farm. I wear them all the time even though they are way too big. Shoes to fill, and all. xoxo
These were his gardening boots which he gave to me when we bought this farm. I wear them all the time even though they are way too big. Shoes to fill, and all. xoxo

 

Well suffice it to say that I made Grandpa’s recipe that day and fell in love with its heftiness and easy prep. My girls both ate them almost weekly throughout their childhood. And it is probably Handsome’s favorite cookie, too, among many beloved recipes. It’s so reliable, so fast and easy, and so filling!

Here is how it goes:

flourless peanut butter cookie recipe

See how basic the ingredients are? It’s rare that you wouldn’t have them on hand, right? I know.

Just mix up the first four items until you have a smoothish, glossy, well glued-together dough. I have developed an aversion to electric mixers lately and just use a wooden spoon. You do what you fancy. Once it’s a dough, just scoop out a ping-pong ball sized hunk at a time (maybe less) and roll it around in your hands until it is a pretty symmetrical sphere. Then roll that in a little shallow tray of sugar and arrange on a cookie sheet.

I have been using parchment paper liner these days, but it’s not absolutely necessary as long as you watch the baking time closely to prevent the sugar from burning. Also, since this recipe does not contain any soda, the cookies hold their shape. So you can really cram them on the baking sheet and get a lot cooked at once!

When your dough is all sphered-up and arranged neatly on your baking sheets, use a plain fork dipped in sugar to criss-cross the traditional waffle pattern on each cookie. Bake for 10 minutes at 350 degrees Fahrenheit. These cookies don’t really change appearance that much, aside from losing their glossiness. If they turn dark brown, they are ruined.  FYI.

 

pb cookies with title sticker

And that is it! Cool for a bit on a wire rack. They are excellent with ice-cold milk. Great with an apple for a quick, energizing lunch. Packs really well for road trips or freezer keeping (as if).

Now tell me something your grandpa has taught you! Or tell me your favorite cookie recipe! Or what have you been doing regularly ever since your babies were babies? I would love to hear.

Thanks for stopping in, friends. Have the very best weekend.

What children need most are the essentials that grandparents provide in abundance.
They give unconditional love, kindness, patience, humor, comfort, lessons in life.
And, most importantly, cookies.
~Rudy Giuliani
XOXOXOXO

 

 

thanks ebola scare

Monday was weird in mildly stressful ways, but we made it through. Late that night we shared some savory, creamy rice plus garlicky chicken thighs with the skin still on and even found each other laughing by sunset. Capped it all off with some perfectly good romance. Win.

monarch 1

Yesterday was flat out magical, from an early morning with Handsome, daytime field trip with the master-gardener group, and sweet evenings texts with my beautiful oldest daughter. I even had the energy to write a menu and grab all of our groceries for the next two weeks then get my inconsistent self in the gym. (By the time I got home it was too dark to run.) Handsome was gone on an overnight business trip, so the farm was quiet, perfect for draining away weirdness residue and siphoning extra energy. Tuesday’s magic stayed with me all last night and into today.

Today I had nowhere to go and no strict schedule to keep. So naturally my eyes popped open thirty minutes early. After coffee, chores, housework, and some lazy autumn decorating, I went outside for a four-mile run and got that old familiar craving for twice as much. Or three or four times, maybe. Everyone around me is training for a marathon or at least a half, and I regret not making a fall race a priority. I miss running being part of my weekly routine, and October first seems like a great time to hit refresh. Wish me luck.

When I’m not running and listening to all things Eminem or Shakira, I am listening to a condensed chapter of Sting music, and it’s so great. My favorite song right now is Desert Rose. Here is the best song lyric you will ever sing to yourself while trying to maintain hope and forward momentum:

Our dreams are tied to a horse that will never die.

The whole song is beautiful, really.

monarch 2

Then after some more stuff I needed to do today, the magic began to fade.

By necessity I performed two mundane, out of the ordinary, and fairly gross tasks: I unscrewed the metal guard and cleaned out the shower drain in our master bathroom, which had recently become… let’s just say… insulated with my long hair. Then I bleach-scrubbed the whole operation until my eyes were oozing something like watery milk. Then I dealt with a possum in the chicken coop who was eating barbarian-style our prettiest butterscotch-colored hen. In broad daylight! And by “dealt with” I mean I closed the beast up in the concrete house, shooed away the rest of the flock, and started trying to reach my husband, who was at that moment still in Dallas, Texas.

I feel like impressing on you the crucial detail that I performed both of these unpleasant farm duties while in full date-night make up (yes, folks, even eye shadow) and with my hair freshly washed, blown out, and curled and teased like nobody’s business. I was even wearing a clean, pretty sundress, because October or not, Oklahoma is in the 90’s again.

Chances are good that I lose some “hobby farmer” creds by not dealing with the predator more directly. (I may or may not have posted a rabies-related plea for help on Facebook before finding my own gun.) But on the other hand I did locate the appropriate screwdriver for the shower job then replaced it to the correct toolbox immediately. So there’s that. And let’s not forget date-night makeup on a Wednesday afternoon, okay? It counts. With our schedule lately, it counts for a lot.

Between book club titles, I am reading Dorothy Must Die which is difficult for me to groove. More up my alley is A Million Little Ways by Emily Freeman. Have you nibbled it yet? My gosh. I mean, you guys, please read this book. It’s short, beautifully written (along the flavor of Ann Voskamp but somehow more youthful sounding), and inspirational from both the artistic stance and the spiritual. If you have any ache in our soul or itch in your body to be creative or discover your purpose in life, give this slim volume some of your valuable time. You won’t regret it.

One of her early chapters offers this:

As we continue to uncover the shape of our unique design, we need not feel the pressure to figure out what to do with it.

Believe in myself and I sink into the waves of worry, procrastination, daily tasks, and diagnoses. There is no dry ground in sight. But sink into God and he will buoy the soul on top of the water.

Which obviously reminds me of the Sting song Shape of My Heart which happens to be playing as I type this.

This afternoon, once my eyes cleared of the watery, milky, bleach-related secretion, I walked out to the vegetable garden to empty some kitchen scraps into the compost. Excited to see how much my small square of kale had grown in two days, I was in for more unpleasantness. Someone, probably Lone Wolf the rooster, had eaten it! It was all chewed down to dark green nubs. Deep breath.

So… a possum eats a hen. And a rooster eats my kale. And I am wearing really good makeup, but it’s all smeary from bleach fumes. I cannot decide if this is some strange brand of reverse karma or just your run-of-the-mill weekday chaos.

What phase is the moon in right now?

Thank goodness for monarchs and soul-nourishing books. And Sting.

I blame the Ebola outbreak for most of this.

The End.

close and closer still

I am the only one awake in the house, probably the only one awake on the farm, except for Geoffrey our ever-hunting-and-prowling barn cat. The morning is so quiet. Not even a tree frog croaking. Just the buzz and click of my laptop and the hum of the refrigerator. Every window is still black with night sky. Strong coffee smells are warming up the room, making my mind more pliable and my eyes less bleary. I am wearing my much loved grey book club t-shirt and pink sweat pants given to me by my friend Marci when spontaneously one day we decided to dye every piece of fabric in sight the color turquoise, including the jeans I was wearing. The table where I’m writing this morning is covered in a bouquet of fading zinnias and half a dozen pieces of fruit plus the only attempt I have so far made toward autumn decorating. And a bottle of nail polish weighting down a story idea scribbled on a wrinkly paper towel.

My heart is incredibly still. Not everything is settled yet exactly, not by the world’s standards, but everything is alright. No, everything is amazing. I can see, feel, smell, and taste that every prayer we’ve uttered in faith is already answered. And that we will be seeing the proof of that slowly, bit by bit, in God’s time. They’ve been answered for years, really. And as new crises have happened in our life, those too have come paired with their own solutions, if only we would stop and focus and breath deeply enough to see. If only we would get close enough to the Problem Solver to no longer see the problem. I miss you Harvey. Thank you for teaching me that. It has changed my life.

Yesterday between working in the barn and playing in the garden, I stopped to feed my bees and the llamas all visited. Dulcinea was particularly kissy. I discovered this photo on my cell phone later and was overwhelmed with the feeling of being so close to God, like a little girl. The feeling of being face to face with Him, silent, cuddled, held with strong arms. Maybe like Scout sitting in Atticus’ lap in To Kill a Mockingbird.

get as close as you can until He is all you can see
get as close as you can until He is all you can see

A rooster is awake now, though the windows are still inky black. My husband of thirteen years will soon appear in the stairwell with a towel for me and a kiss, ready to stumble outside for Hot Tub Summit, as is our early morning custom. I will give him freshly brewed coffee that he bought for me at midnight last night because I foolishly left my can of it at book club. We will admire the last stars of night and maybe the first colorful streaks of dawn. We will take note of the llamas and cats and buffalo and horses and help each other kill mosquitoes but not honeybees.

Then later today we will work together at church, getting the physical space ready for spiritual work. We will pray together and face everything together then rest in this home we’ve made, this love we’ve curated. Keeping room for every seed of hope we’ve ever planted.

My friends are all facing big trials and heartaches, just like yours. My family is in crisis, just like yours. And I ache for them just as they have ached for me. But I feel such a flood of hope and assurance right now! The dawn is finally cracking open on a long, bitter night. I just want everyone to fix their sight on where that is happening. The Source of every solution, all the Love that we will ever need. Do not let anyone distract you with worrying or over-analyzing or thinking that you alone can do it. Be firm on that, okay?

Get so close that He is all you can see.

Happy brand new day to you! You are loved and you are needed to move that Love around this world. Be a conduit. Be happy.

It’s not time to worry yet.
~Atticus Finch
XOXOXOXO

 

 

harper lee for mama kat

Hello again! This week Mama Kat invited us to share some favorite quotes. Cool!

I am a quote fiend. A quote fanatic. Quote-and-prose obsessed, it is fair to say. So narrowing down my list of faves was not easy. But this month our famous little Oklahoma book club is reading both One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp and To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee. Don’t we have good taste?

Anyway, these two books are rife with well crafted, substantial lines. And as I am reading through the latter title I am recording in a fresh new spiral notebook all the sentences that speak to me. It’s so fun! Believe it or not this is my first time reading To Kill a Mockingbird, and I clearly see why it is a beloved American classic. So good. I am halfway through and have cried three times and laughed a lot more.

I will admit that taking so many notes alongside reading just a 248 page book is taking me an inordinate amount of time. Maybe I should just read it straight through? I don’t know. But every paragraph is a gem. It’s all so beautifully written and filled with good messages, how can I pick a favorite even from this one book?

Here is one that glows on the page and is so relevant to my life right now:

to kill a mockingbird quote

It can be difficult, right? Abandoning the need for approval or affirmation when we think we’re doing ok? And on the flipside it can be tempting to preen our egos with other people’s approval despite what we know about ourselves deep down. It’s a cheap balm. Both are traps. Caring too much about what other people think while neglecting our well bred conscience, it’s dangerous. It starves us. Distracts us from the real work and joy of living.

Which leads me to an older, better known quote:

A clean conscience is a soft pillow.

Thanks for the short, sweet writing prompt, Mama Kat! You da real MVP. But don’t take my word for it.
That’s the kinda thing you hafta know for yourself.
XOXOXOXO

Kat Bouska
http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/