Lazy W Marie

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

new aquarius moon, senses inventory

Today is Thursday, Februrary 11, 2021, this winter’s New Moon in Aquarius. According to my journal, it is Day 332 in “quarantine,” although that word has shifted meaning over the months. Nearly a year, though, since all this started. Amazing.

In Oklahoma we have just 36 days till spring and 63 days till danger of frost has passed. My friend Rose will like that number play. In the mean time, we are already bitter cold and bracing for an historic snow storm this weekend.

Earlier today, I spent a few minutes taking a Senses Inventory. It felt like a good day to mark the moment then deeply inhale fresh energy.

SEE: A stack of thank you cards I am writing for our Outreach projects. Two vases filled with dried wedding flowers, mostly roses. Verdant houseplants in almost every direction. Shiny clean mixing bowls drying on the kitchen counter. Handwritten notes from my friends Kelly, Lori, and Brittany. Brightly painted artwork. Snow and frost covering everything I see outside, in the south yard.

HEAR: A rooster crowing about either his breakfast or his love life, maybe both. Klaus snoring gently after a busy round of morning chores. My husband’s muffled voice filtering from his upstairs office, firm and authoritative, serious, on the verge of angry. (Edit to add: he was definitely angry.) Also, music from the kitchen, a rotation of Lana Del Rey and Billie Eilish.

TOUCH: Hot, tingly hands from scrubbing dishes. Legs bouncy and energetic, ready to run! Nose raw from constant Kleenex attention this week.

SMELL: Bleach cleaner, dish soap, freshly baked cinnamon pumpkin bread, and the cold. The cold has a fragrance today.

TASTE: Oily aftertaste of the unsalted pepitas and raisins I ate while baking earlier. Tepid water laced with liquid biotin drops, not quite citrusy, not too good.

THINK: Reflecting on a wonderful dream I had last night. Also thinking about Jocelyn’s first cabin in the mountains, the one she remodeled, and of the time I visited her in April but we got snowed in. We got donuts and made coffee twice and her houseplants were thriving. Later, we hiked on Trail Ridge Road by moonlight. All of Colorado’s magic was housed in her petite body. Today, here at the farm, feels like that day, and I can’t stop thinking about it. About her.

FEEL: I feel amorous, romantic, silly. Also widly hopeful about everything in the world that matters deeply, especially our family. Not the kind of hopeful that is gripping and determined, but rather, the floaty, shimmering, giggling kind of hopeful, like something wonderful is about to happen. I am also very excited for deep snow at the farm, movies, cuddling, and playing games all weekend.

Share details from one of your senses with me!

XOXOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm, daily rituals to thrive in quarantine (or any time)

Quarantine Day 55 according to my journal.

How are you holding up, friend, really? Are you safe and secure? Are you finding ways to cultivate health, and are you choosing joy as often as you see it as a choice? Are you learning anything from this bizarre life chapter, gleaning any new wisdom or opening your heart again to any old truths? Or are you barely scraping by, either physically or emotionally, wondering how you’ll make it through several more weeks or months of unknowns, when so many days are long and heavy as they are? Are you on a roller coaster, trading self awareness for depression, then back again? Are you connecting with loved ones deeply and often enough?

I think many of us can say yes to all of this, if not all at once, then in waves. And I think it is all pretty much to be expected. The good, the bad, the ugly, the beautiful. I am no expert, but this global experience sure feels like just a compression of the human experience, you know? The bitter and the sweet. The high and the low. And so a level measure of acceptance and a hefty sense of humor will serve us well.

Additionally, I find lots of comfort and strength in practicing the habits and systems I discovered in better times. I am leaning hard into those, then allowing space and breath to kind of take over from there.

For a Friday 5 at the Farm post on this gorgeous Mother’s Day weekend, I would like to offer five daily habits or rituals that really do seem to help me feel and perform my best.

1. SPIRIT: I try to read, meditate, and journal first thing in the morning. The perpetual devotional Jesus Calling has been my favorite for a few years now, and I love seeing notes in the page margins from past life chapters. I love reading inspirational material and absorbing directive scriptures while my heart is warm and pliable. Usually, after a good night’s sleep, my brain has lots to download into a spiral notebook, and that first cup of strong coffee facilitates it well, ha! This used to be a truly private few minutes of my day, but lately I have grown cozy with the habit of doing all of this in bed with one lamp on, while my husband watches first the morning news then an episode of Little House on the Prairie. It’s a sweet, mellow way to start the new day. And you wouldn’t believe the symmetry and harmony in the messages I am receiving!

2. WORK: My daily work is truly a pleasure and has for a long time been boiled down to a succinct list of “Minimum Daily Actions” which can be accomplished in about an hour. It’s just the basics that keep our house and animals tended, and the walk-about is my opportunity to plan further tasks. That leaves the rest of the day for all kinds of deeper housework or tackling interesting projects, but the first hour of work feels almost sacramental. I love getting dressed to do what absolutely must be done, and Klaus, my constant companion, loves it too. He knows the exact order of our chores, he knows our rhythm, and he understands a few phrases that signal changes. I walk and feed everyone and smooth things and align lists and supplies and give thanks, actively. This sets the framework for an easy, productive day, and it really can feel sacramental. Meditative.

3. MOVE: Daily exercise for the sake of exercise, something outside of normal activity, is a game changer. And for me, daily exercise apart from marathon training has been deeply refreshing. I try to give myself ninety minutes of conscious variety. Triggered by a little injury, I am learning to listen to what my body needs day to day, not just run all the miles. The time for that will return soon enough. For now? I am embracing the pleasures of yoga and strength and mobility work, with treadmill and trail miles sprinkled in, and hopefully soon we will ride our bicycles too. Movement equals energy and endorphins!

4. SKY WATCH: If at all possible, and it almost always is, I love to be physically outdoors when the sun rises and sets, and when the moon is visible. It does wonders for settling my spirit and helping me watch the slow passage of time. Oklahoma has famously picturesque skies, too. Such a simple, profound way to see what God does for us over and over again.

5. CONNECT: I am making a deliberate effort to make eye contact with my husband when he speaks to me, and to be a better conversationalist in general. Being alone most daytime hours, then being only in each other’s company after work hours, as much as we enjoy it, I tend to take him for granted. This is common, I know, but I want to be better than common. He is my favorite person, and I don’t want to waste these weeks of quarantine by slipping into sloppy autopilot. (Also, I am susceptible to losing my verbal skills entirely if I don’t make an effort to speak full sentences and use more than the baby talk I use with the animals. Anyone else? No, just me? Gulp.) Connecting with friends and family has been vital, too. Weekend Zooms, a virtualgame night here and there, a surprise day of chalk art, and lots more actual phone calls have all kept my most precious bonds thriving.

So that’s it! Five ways I am keeping myself more or less on a healthy track, more or less connected to a sense of purpose and wellness. What are you doing to feel your best? I would love to hear. And happy Mother’s Day weekend to my friends and family!! Talk soon. Love you.

This is temporary.
Soak up the beautiful parts.
XOXOXOXO

february refreshment

At some point every winter, a point that varies in both duration and location on the calendar, I get noticeably tired; and the feeling of being so tired first catches me by surprise then worries me. I am surprised that an abbreviated work day (ending at sunset, between 5 and 6 p.m.) can drain me so thoroughly; and I am worried whether the fast approaching longer workdays (also ending at sunset, but gradually closer to 9 p.m.) will be sustainable.

Then we are gifted a late winter weekend like this, and everything feels right and natural again. Everything feels possible after a few consecutive days of clear blue skies, sublime warmth, and trace breezes. We indulge in a long, slow series of outdoor projects and hobbies, shedding first our gloves mid-morning then our coats by lunchtime. Eventually we bare our pale arms and maybe legs to the almost forgotten throb of true sunlight. Having endured so many months of that filtered silvery gray, that colder atmosphere that is beautiful in its own way but still distant, impersonal, this sudden onslaught of heat is buttery. Seductive. Very personal.

indoor green keeping my blood flowing

So I am no longer worried about being able to keep up with the lengthening days. I trust that my energy and life force will soon redouble. This gorgeous first weekend of February has reminded me (again) how energizing the sun can be, how it helps us meet the clock. This productive and happy first weekend of February has reminded me (again) of how motivating and sustaining new work is. Progress. Enjoyment. Long hours spent lost in work that we truly love.

Johnny Cash the gander loves to hunt treats…xoxo

The fabled groundhog, by the way, assures us of an early spring this year, which echoes the Almanac. We could still see all kinds of crazy weather over the coming weeks, but after the past few days I feel neither tired nor worried about that, either. I am excited head to toe, inside and out, by all of the work before us. Grateful that such bliss can be called work. Wide eyed about nature and cycles and the myriad possibilities being laid at our muddy feet.

Happiest of Februaries, friends!

“Often, the sweeter the first fruits of a habit,
the more bitter its later fruits.”
~Frederic Bastiat
French economist
(quote found in Atomic Habits by James Clear)

turkey palooza love letter to my family

In our family, every person counts. We are a big, rambunctious crowd, and while from the outside it may seem that anyone could get lost in us, we always feel the absence of any one member.

In our family, we tease each other mercilessly, sometimes bordering on meanness, but we love each other fiercely and will defend each other to outsiders with everything we have. Sincere efforts are appreciated, too, and applauded. We love doing things for and with each other.

In our family, we value fun and silliness. Greatly. We laugh loudly and a lot. And at everything. Over and over and over again. We play games chance we get.

In our family, kids are precious. And the adults are also kids.

In our family we weep with each other. And although we no longer attend church together, we all feel and benefit from each other’s prayers.

We all crave deeper and continuing connection with each other. We are gently competitive, but we mostly help each other. Everyone contributes. Even the Whos in Whoville have nothing on our family’s sense of teamwork. You know what we should do? Go on Family Feud or maybe The Greatest Race or something.

For us, there is no such thing as a black sheep, because we all take turns being the odd man out, ha. At some time, each of us has wandered from the fold, and we always come back. This gives us hope for our babes who are hurting. We have learned that each of us has an ongoing need for grace and mercy. We all have said and done things to hurt each other, we all have been forgiven, we all want everybody else to stay close immediately and from now on, ok? There are no outsiders in our family. We are all of us, together, even when we are far flung. Every person is worth waiting for.  

(Come home, Joc. We miss you. We need you. We are here for anything you need.)

We love each other. We love each other’s babies and puppies. We feel at home in each other’s homes. It feels like childhood after a few hours or especially a few days together in a shared, confined space.

In our family, we eat really well. We are, I like to think, health conscious hedonists. Giving us home cooked food with whole milk and eating dinner at the table for 90% of our meals, Mom and Dad raised lots of very enthusiastic cooks! This Thanksgiving, two of their adult grandchildren some cooking for the feast, and we were so proud.

We care about beauty and lushness, but we are not too fancy.

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We value lots of traditions, if they serve our communal joy, and we won’t be shamed out of it. We don’t mind test driving new traditions either! The Saran Wrap game is only a few years old for us, but it’s not going anywhere. We also love to share memories and figure out which details we retain differently. (If you think we didn’t have a pet ferret, though, you’re wrong.)

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In our family we work hard and expect accountability. For example, when a projects falls flat, Dad might say, “What did you think would happen when you did that?” And this question doesn’t sting; it only points us back to the process.

We nap hard. We dance, draw,  create, play music, imagine, climb trees, study, clean, and work. Hard. Really hard. All of it.

Our family takes lots and lots of photos! Of everything. We do this because we are amazed by how quickly time passes. We want some documentation of all this life happening. But we also hate for our own photos to be posted to Face book without permission. Ask Genny about having cheeks full of banana at the 5K.

For our family, the two people who started everything as bright eyed, glossy faced teenagers are now our matriarch and patriarch, and for all of our juvenile complaining and petulance in the past, now… none of us know what we would do without them.

In our family we celebrate each other’s successes. We ask a lot about the future, and we love talking to each other about our plans, whatever they may be, big or small. We encourage each other. We have learned to not dwell too long in the past, except to celebrate it and hopefully laugh. We have learned that every single one of us needs some forward momentum. Some encouragement and a push here and there. Also some grace and compassion, all of which we happily provide for each other.

In our family, it’s a lot. It’s a lot of a lot, with no signs of it ever not being a lot. But we love it. Our two sweet members who married into all of this A-Lot-Ness  probably feel it the most. BW and Halee are often a bit wide-eyed by the end of a good reunion, but we trust that they too value the whirling dervish that is our family.

We all need a nap now. And a bit of quiet, maybe some Febreeze for the house and a few raw veggies for our bellies. But truly we just love the happy chaos so much. We love the intense texture and noise and wild flavor of us all together, because as messy as it is, as overwhelming as it can be, as much as the togetherness may stretch each other’s boundaries, this is where each of us originated.  This is the very real and powerful nucleus of Love and Intention and Effort from which all five of us sprouted and grew. How wonderful that we all have grown in such different directions and still “come home” to celebrate so often.

Come home. Touch base. Home base.

“Safe!”
(unless you are playing Wago)
XOXOXOXO

using shadows to see the light

Once in a blue moon, I allow myself to wander the shadowy landscape of What Might Have Been. I briefly revisit so many surreal weeks in hospitals with our girls when they were tiny. Family funerals over the years. Bizarre relationship changes. Job loss and all of the precipitating life evolutions. Near misses on the highway. Injuries and illnesses with our farm animals. The terror of everything that happened in Colorado two years ago. All of the scary parts of life that my mind is mostly trained to not glorify, I will just sometimes glance at again.

I don’t do this often, or for very long, because I have learned that imagining things can bring them to fruition. Our most vibrant emotions have the power to magnify; they can either fuel or fight against our prayers. Those idle moments lost in thought can sharpen unseen possibilities, good and bad. So I am careful.

But I am as susceptible to triggers and as filled with memory as anyone, so sometimes I let it all drizzle over me for a few moments. If I am feeling strong and focused enough, I allow a good, steady gaze straight in the face of all those phantoms. I remember the terror, the grief, the uncertainty, whatever it is. Or whatever it was or could have been. I think that’s key.

Then inevitably I am flooded with visions of reality, for how things actually are, and I am shaken to my core with gratitude. At that point, my indulgence is over. My mental habit is to give thanks for as many true details as I can scoop up. Gratitude is easy for facts like sunsets and gardens. Art and music. Fat horses. Dramatic Oklahoma skies. Life and redemption. Lies burned through with truth. Healing. Financial provision. Relationships strengthened. Children returned home. Addictions dealt with. Breakthroughs. Peace. Unbridled joy in the midst of so much suffering.

I return intentionally to reality, to the present moment. And the beauty of the present moment always outshines the shadowy, phantom past.

A few weeks ago, on a whim, I texted a phone number still programmed in my phone to Jocelyn. It is no longer hers, I knew that, but in the bounce back of one of the indulgences I just described to you, I had to try. The new owner replied and I asked, if they knew Joc, to tell her know that her Mom loves her and misses her so much. This was a silly thing to do. I realize the odds of that person knowing her were ridiculous. But this person responded with compassion and a wish that I find her and that she knows we love her.

Then, just a few days ago, Handsome and I were driving on Northwest Expressway and stopped at a traffic light across from Baptist hospital. This was exactly the last part of town where I last spent time with Joc and her little sister, almost a year ago. Stopped at that light, in the driver’s seat, I spotted a petite young woman with dark hair and slim legs, an oversized coat, backpack on one shoulder. She was waiting to cross the Expressway. It only lasted for a moment, but I thought it was her. My body flooded and tensed with adrenaline, and I very nearly threw the car into park and flung open the door. I was ready to scream her name and sprint to her, but the young woman turned her head and showed me a face that was not Jocelyn’s. I sat there just kind of crumpled, you know that feeling when a flood of adrenaline drains quietly. It’s always such a sickening, nauseous moment. I held my breath, begging silently for the green light. When Handsome saw my face, all I told him was that I thought I had seen Joc. He put his hand on my leg and whispered a few words of prayer. Everything was warm and steady again. That familiar sensation of God being near us dissolved the sick.

I miss her. I miss so much I do not have the words for it. And I am dealing with lots of anger, too, with other adults in her life and her sisters’, in their upbringing, in their adulthood, just the world itself is so violent and treacherous. My beautiful, innocent babies. Yet… Layered with and connected to this ongoing grief is a strong, brilliant assurance that every single prayer is already answered. Reality is both; they seem inseparable.

If we never revisit the old wounds and fears, either near misses or catastrophes that actually did happen and actually did reshape our worlds, I think our gratitude can become dull, theoretical, rote. But laying hold of our darkest feelings and offering them to God is a good way to transform them. It’s that miraculous alchemy again. The gratitude that comes next is textured and colorful, vibrating with life because we know our gifts are real and worth appreciating.

  • Admitting our broken relationships and failures then giving thanks for the healing that has come since.
  • Looking at where we have been emptied out and scraped bare then giving thanks for the unprecedented ways God has refilled our stores, emotionally, financially, physically.
  • Remembering lost loved ones so we can keep their characters alive and also more actively treasure the people still with us.
  • Excitement in advance for miracles still brewing.
  • Gratitude for the true elasticity of time and for the timeless, omnipresent, unstoppable force that is Love.

Faith cooperates with imagination, but it hardly an imaginary whim. Every one of these moments in life, each choice to redirect our energy and recommit ourselves, counts. And the sharp contrast between Fear and Love is so delicious, such a gift in itself.

Come home, baby. I have so much to tell you.