Lazy W Marie

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

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no longer surprised by joy

When I first opened my eyes this morning, sunlight was streaming into our bedroom warm and smooth, molten, kinetic. The walls were pulsing with that wonderful early morning sheen, thick with golden light, and then in a moment it was gone. Slipped away in the cleaner white light of day. A rare moment captured.

Then a little bit later when Handsome and I stepped outside with our mugs of perfect coffee, ushering the chickens and geese out of their nighttime coop and tiptoeing towards Hot Tub Summit, we caught another rare moment. The east pasture and middle yard were capped with a thin blanket of wooly fog, rolled out like a blanket no more than twelve or fifteen feet above the ground. Through that fog, more sunlight streaming fiercely, joyously, making every tree branch come to life despite their dormancy. The backlit fog was stunning. And then it was gone, burned off in the warming rays.

These moments were brief but breathtaking, and I am so happy we both got to see them.

Miracles have been happening in our life. Always, yes I know. Life itself is a miracle. But friends… Miracles have been happening. Some of them have been direct answers to prayers, often desperate ones. Many of these prayers are several years old, too. Other miracles have been complete surprises, wonderful doses of saving grace from near tragedy or windfall joy out of the blue.

I try to move slowly through my days whenever possible so I can notice the details of life more fully, absorb them, and magnify the Light streaming in that gilds everything. Ann Voskamp illustrates this discipline beautifully. Besides making the days more lovely, this also serves to calm me with those yet unanswered prayers. I feel steady and sure, confident in the powerful Love surrounding us.

Today I barely feel the need to ask for anything more because the momentum of miracles in our life is so strong, so kinetic. But we are invited to ask largely, so I will. Before that though, and after it and all day every day, my prayer is Thank You. Thank you, and I trust You. I trust you with everything big and small, seen and unseen. Thank You.

 day lilies cs lewis

Are you seeing miracles in your life right now? Do you need a miracle? They are certainly available, and you don’t have to deserve them to receive them. But you do have to ask and trust.

Wishing you a really gorgeous, happy, love-filled Sunday. Handsome and I are soon heading back outside to soak up more unseasonably warm temperatures (Oklahoma still thinks it April, not February) and see what new miracles are on the horizon. Thank you so much for stopping in.

Thank You.
Thank You and I trust You.
XOXOXO

 

 

sparkling joy

Sometimes when she’s home I want to hug her so close and squeeze her, cup her face in my hands and stare into her ebony eyes. I want to press her close to me and stroke her long brown, satiny hair and smell her and cradle her like the baby she hasn’t been in nineteen years. But I get this feeling of restraint, like when in a sleeping dream, a book or newspaper appears and the harder I strain to focus on the words, the blurrier they become. Eventually my efforts to read wake me up, and the dream is gone. Dissolved. Sometimes I feel like if I squeeze her too tight, if I want her home too much or cause her to feel all the love I have for her, she’ll be gone again.

Jocelyn at age four, Christmas morning. Scrumptious! xoxo She still is, too. Every bit as beautiful, loving, and sparkly in every possible way.
Jocelyn at age four, Christmas morning. Scrumptious! xoxo She still is, too. Every bit as beautiful, loving, and sparkly in every possible way.

That’s fear, not faith. And it’s never love that drives people away; it’s Love that brings them home.

She’s home. Home for dinner, home for movies, home for laughter and silliness and talking about everything under the sun, both serious and easy. Home for her horse and our family and memories old and new. Home to figure things out and also to just relax.

She’s home for Christmas, and my heart is bursting hour by hour, over and over again.

Nest feathering… Preparing the Apartment for her stay has been as much fun (more so even) as decorating a nursery for a newborn baby. I have felt every bit of the same joyful, nervous anticipation I felt just before her due date almost two decades ago. And daily I think of our friends Brad and Trisha who right this minute are expecting their first child, also a girl, Avery. I am beyond words excited for them! They’ll be amazing parents, I know. Avery is already a lucky little girl. And in what will feel like moments Avery will be a young woman visiting her parents for Christmas. And they will be so elated they will scarcely find words for the feeling.

Of course, our baby (not a baby anymore, I know!) is a busy girl, so it’s not like she’s here all day every day. But she’s here. Close. It’s music to hear her walk in the front door, her pretty, sing-song voice saying, “Heeeyyy, we’re here!” (She often brings a friend.) And it is beautiful just to see her tiny-feet sneakers paired up against our work boots. Cooking for her is a total pleasure, too. It’s become a running joke that somehow on the nights she eats at the farm, I manage to repeatedly serve either some variation of pork chops or spicy Italian food. It’s the weirdest ongoing coincidence ever. Last night we had homemade chicken and dumplings, so maybe the streak is finally broken.

Sometimes when the house is quiet and I am thinking about all that God is doing for us, in this arena and others, I can’t stop smiling with my whole face.  My back teeth chatter together gently, and I giggle until I cry. Of course there are still needs in life, still unanswered prayers. We know that. Except that they aren’t unanswered. Every wish deep in our hearts has already been heard and addressed. Every tear shed, already invested in laughter in the future!

This is for you too! All the faith you have been living is already accomplished in a miracle bigger than you can even imagine!

Brad and Trisha are experiencing a miracle different from ours yet still very much the same. They have been waiting to be parents for a long time, just like us. They have loved their daughter without seeing her, just like us. They have trusted God and the power of love and prayer, just like us. And their broken hearts are mending. Only to burst again with joy. Just like us.

Sparkling joy,
joy unspeakable
XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

good news brewing

You who stop here and read my farm stories and book reviews and clumsy philosophy or spiritual meanderings, my running diaries, sporadic garden ideas and recipes and Ted Bundy memories, you are very special to me. You are friends who accept the crazy, irregular things I have to offer, and you often return the favor with so many beautiful thoughts and words of your own. While writing itself is cathartic, your support and affection truly nourish me. And I know you have hundreds of blogs available where you can spend your limited reading time. I know that. So I appreciate your attentive hearts all the more.

I like the idea of you sitting in my living room with your feet up, like this, dirty garden boots and everything. I just made you coffee and biscotti.
I like the idea of you sitting in my living room with your feet up, like this, dirty garden boots and everything. I just made you coffee and biscotti. We discuss everything under the Oklahoma sun.

In addition to being so generous, you have also been very patient with certain measures of ambiguity.

Over the years I have alluded to changing family dynamics and a deep grief I have carried for my children. Maybe you know part of our story, and maybe you don’t. But with few exceptions this blog has been a safe, prayerful, encouraging place to sort of synthesize all of my thoughts and feelings. Here, I get the chance to put into words not just what’s happening inside me or around me from day to day, month to month, but more importantly… the possible meanings behind things. Lessons to learn and hope to cement. And I know that usually sounds like stuff about the miracle of seeds germinating or the strength of a honey bee colony. Apparently this is the arena where God speaks to me.

God has been so good to us. He has sustained us over the years in amazing ways, and I try to celebrate that here and share it with you. He has been good to us in the garden, with the animals, and with our children, even (especially) when the pain has been excruciating, both for us and for them. And things have been hard. No doubt about it.

In recent weeks though, we’ve been more than sustained. Love is transforming things. As filled with miracles as our life has always been, this showering of grace and revelation is unprecedented. And resisting the urge to write about it all has felt unnatural, itchy. I am omitting the biggest stories in our life to talk about, what? What is more important?

So.

I’ll still be guarded with what I share, mostly because these stories are not all mine to tell; but I will begin to share some of the amazing things God is doing for our family. I owe at least that much. And honestly I can hardly hold it in any more.

joc sunset dusty

So this is me taking a deep breath and preparing to share some good news with you. Tentatively, with carefully chosen words, but still with so much unbridled joy!

Thank you so much for listening and praying.
You have no idea how much it means.
XOXOXOXO

 

low visibility

All week we have been wrapped in thick, wet fog. Cool, gray, drizzly, dense fog that keeps our vision close and our temperatures low. And for all the dreariness, it has been magical. Oklahoma rarely has this many consecutive foggy days. I find it perfectly enchanting.

Walking around the farm, the intense moisture slicks my eyeballs and makes my wavy hair curly. The ground is saturated. Spongy. We look for the animals around the farm but only see them as blue shadows and silhouettes emerging from the blurry distance. And barely a breeze moves the naked trees.

The Pine Forest is a still life of flat, sharp edges, a painted cardboard scene for a fairy tale puppet show. All dressed in that enchanted fog.

I can feel the clock hands slowing down under the weight of it all, and it is wonderful.

fog, lazy w, oklahoma, faith
Dulcinea in the denim blue, foggy twilight.

Of course driving in the heavy fog takes special care, too. You absolutely must go slowly, and your lights cannot be too direct, too far reaching. The fog draws us in, folds us over onto ourselves a bit, shrinks our vision. This frustrates some people, but it’s temporary.

Everything, after all, is temporary.

Mysteries that seem unfathomable are dissolved in the warm light of truth. Terrible walls crumble apart. People are reunited by Love in ways that no one might predict.

The fog eventually lifts.

So if you are feeling socked in by life, if you’re having trouble seeing very far into the future, take heart. Sometimes that’s just how it is. Take a deep breath then let it out, slowly. Be very still and quiet. Take a look around yourself, right exactly where you are. There is plenty to be done in this moment, and there is plenty to enjoy, too.

Don’t be bothered by the fog. It will eventually thin out and disappear completely. The horizon will be clear again, your vision full. Soon the sun will be dazzling bright again, maybe when you least expect it.

Until that moment, be here. Be very present and calm, very still and safe in this moment, and enjoy the world’s magical appearance. Soon the rest of it will be revealed.

Take therefore no thought for the morrow:
for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself.
Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof.
~Matthew 6:34
XOXOXOXO

what I learned in november

Hi friends! Welcome to Tuesday. For the first time ever I am linking up with Emily over at Chatting With the Sky. She is the sweet, smart author of A Million Little Ways which I devoured recently and have been pushing on my friends the same way I push food onto my daughter when she visits the farm. (Translation: So much and with gobs of effusiveness!)

Once a month Emily hosts a cool link up for people to share what they’ve been learning. Anything at all. Fun, right?  I know! So here’s my contribution for November:

 

what i learned in november

 

Baby llamas can flat-foot jump four-foot high fences. And it’s awesome. Meh, about five months old now, recently displayed a new talent. In order to reach Handsome on the other side of a four-foot predator fence, with no running start whatsoever, he just sprang vertically into the air and landed with aplomb on the earth not two feet away. Probably for a cookie. We were duly impressed. And now we have to keep the front gate shut at all times.

"Meh." xoxoxo
“Meh.” xoxoxo

Crocheting scarves is a great way to pass some time while watching Dexter with Handsome. I’m getting pretty good less terrible at a single-double chain stitch. Very relaxing and somewhat productive.

Hens are vain creatures. We accidentally left the front door open a few days ago and turned around to see Red Nekkid Neck hen and this gorgeous black hen exploring the living room. Just, you know, pooping on the wood floors. No biggie. The nameless black hen was perched on my favorite green chair, staring with deep and fascinated longing at herself. Do you have name suggestions for such a vain creature?

aww you sexy thang!
Aww, you sexy thang!

Mixing both sides of our family at a tenuous, change-filled season for everyone was at once genius and insane. We hosted our two nuclear groups at the farm for Thanksgiving this year, and we made a thousand memories and had a great time, truly. But I learned that spreading myself too thinly among people who have to make a great effort to blend with each other, well, it kind of leaves everyone feeling awkward. It is wonderful too, don’t get me wrong! But it was a learning experience. If someone ever asks my advice on this issue, I would say that overextending yourself in grief-stricken times, with limited hours available to spend with your loved ones, can leave everyone feeling a bit shortchanged. Sometimes it’s better to really water your families’ roots deeply. One at a time.

Listening trumps talking. And believing the best in people and in uncertain situations makes a difference. You know, faith is a force to be reckoned with. This past month I have literally fallen asleep giving thanks so many times. And my waking hours have been blissfully free of worry. It’s the most amazing transformation ever. I am learning the fruition part of the power of imagination, the potential of faithful prayers. How are you doing with this?

Adult footie pajamas are the bomb-dot-com. Have you seen them in retail land yet? Super cute. And even moreso soft and comfy. I can’t even tell you how fast you should go out and buy some for immediate cuddling, pretend flying through the air, and extended air-ninja-battles with errant poultry. We recently rearranged the living room, allowing for a long, wide path in the wood floor. Wearing my cool footie pj’s I can slide right down that slick alleyway like Tom Cruise in Risky Business. Not much less awesome that a jumping llama.

supergirl footie onesie pajamas

And it’s December! I am two days deep in decorating, organizing, fitness, reading great books, and generally loving life. Now I’m off to see what the other guests at Emily’s link up have learned. Thanks so much for stopping by! What are you learning?

“I am learning all the time.
The tombstone will be my diploma.”
~Eartha Kitt
XOXOXO