Lazy W Marie

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

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Proverbs 31: Swept and Sprinkled, Ma Joad as a P 31 Woman

   As we sink into the warmth and wisdom of Proverbs 31 
as it applies to women, rather than to kings as in the first few verses, 
a lovely and demanding image comes into focus. 
We begin to see the heart and the habits of a woman who clearly makes her home a priority. 
The descriptions available to us go far beyond dull exteriors, too. 
They evoke purpose, joy, self discipline, industriousness,
and above all… love.
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   Always a sucker for characterization, I would like to propose a literary parallel. Earlier this summer our book club gobbled up a fairly modern classic, Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. If you’re interested, I wrote more on that book here, Trading Wrath for Gratitude and here, the full book review.

   One of the main characters in Grapes is of course Ma Joad. She is the matriarch of her growing and suffering family, and she leads them with great dignity and resourcefulness as they migrate westward and endure one devastation after another.

   Ma Joad cooks whatever food stuffs she can collect, and she does so with aching love. She feeds strangers with astonishing generosity. She washes her family’s dust-packed clothes in brutal circumstances. She keeps her adult children motivated and soothes her husband’s frayed nerves and bolsters his wilting ego. She honors her aging and sometimes difficult parents. (Actually, I think they are her in-laws.) She keeps house in every sense of the word, both physically and spiritually.

   One of the rituals Ma Joad maintains no matter where they camp, no matter who is with them or what is happening that day, seems to be cleaning the floors. Despite the Dust Bowl conditions of extreme dryness and wind-blown dirt that would permeate every crevice, she persists. She places high priority on refreshing her family’s state of mind by refreshing their physical surroundings.

Steinbeck frequently used the phrase, “swept and sprinkled” to describe Ma’s finished house.
And while she did special things for guests, she kept house for her family.

Photo Sourced from Google, original website unavailable.

 
   My husband’s grandparents lived in western Oklahoma during the infamous Dust Bowl. They farmed and raised their families and survived the incredible heat and drought. When I finished The Grapes of Wrath, no doubt still in that afterglow of having read something so excellent, I asked my wonderful father-in-law a few questions about his childhood memories and the stories he’d heard about his parents and grandparents. Among other stuff, I wanted to know more about “swept and sprinkled.” He nodded and smiled knowingly.

   Since the floors were all dirt, Harvey explained, any amount of foot traffic would stir up messy paths all day long. He said that people had a habit of sweeping the thresholds of their homes with a broom then sprinkling the smoothed earth with a little water to settle the dust. He said that this would beautify the home and also minimize the tracking in of dirt.

   So simple.

   And yet, would anyone now really blame Ma Joad had she ignored this task? I mean, the dust was blowing all day, every day. Relentless.

   Sweeping and sprinkling had to be done on a regular, perhaps almost constant basis because of their conditions.

   But she kept doing it. In addition to cooking and washing (by hand, not with a machine) and doctoring and tending, this not young woman made sure her family had a smooth, settled entry to their home. So simple. I find this absolutely beautiful and fascinating.

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   I am so full of wondering about this… Every family is different, every woman is different, and every home is different… But the drive to nest and nurture stretches across cultures and eras and personalities. I’d love some fresh input. Please join me!

  • What simple things can you think of that the modern woman might do just to improve her family’s state of mind, or their basic physical surroundings? 
  • What regular little rituals do you keep for these reasons? 
  • Is there something you do every day that makes you feel like your home is “ready” for your people? What makes you super comfy and might make you say, “We are swept and sprinkled and ready.”
  • How do you feel when you do this stuff? Are you radiating love, or obligation?
  • What tasks do we avoid, just because they are painfully monotonous or repetitive? 
  • What excuses do we offer ourselves for shirking duties?
  • Does not doing something accumulate anything adverse, either spiritual or physical? What are the consequences of this?
   ********************

   I hope this little theme was as enlightening to you as it has been to me. Internalizing the purpose of what we do at home and the true value of the seemingly mundane tasks that comprise home-keeping… these can prompt powerful shifts in attitude. 
   My personal wish is to be more like Ma Joad, for starters. To be more loving in the routine jobs I might prefer to ignore, and to always remember that repetitive tasks sometimes make the biggest difference.
   I wish the same and more for you!! 
   Thanks so much for reading.
“What’s this call, this sperit? An’ I says, ‘It’s love.
I love people so much I’m fit to bust, sometimes.'”
~Ma Joad
xoxoxoxo

The Grapes of Wrath (book review)

   Our famous little book club tackled a modern classic this session, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. Have you read it? Being from Oklahoma, the ancestral land of the Joad family, you might think we all had read it before, but not so.

   Of the twelve ladies who participated this month, only four had read it in school and some of those admitted they might have had help from Cliffs Notes. So in essence this was a new read for everyone. My point is to not feel ashamed if you think you “should” have read Grapes by now, and do not feel guilty if you’ve only seen the Henry Fonda movie. You might be surprised by how many people are in the same boat. Just please do find time to read it eventually, especially if you are from either Oklahoma or California, the two states whose recent histories are so intertwined in these pages.

The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck, a luxurious tray of fruit, and perfect coffee.
I am so blessed.

   Okay. I thoroughly enjoyed this book, you guys. For the important social and historical reasons, for the chapter rhythm of action/insight/action/insight, for the author’s descriptive powers, for the characters, and for the deepening of gratitude it caused in my heart, I loved The Grapes of Wrath.

   This is the story of a tenant farming family from Oklahoma who is driven out of their home because of the Dust Bowl of the early twentieth century. They are a varied group, like any clan, and they follow Route 66 out of necessity, seeking a paradise in California.

   Steinbeck writes in such a way that you feel the excruciating detail of daily life during those hot, dry years; He builds characters worth knowing (my favorite was Ma Joad); and with his words he exposes the natural world in ways that prompt large-scale thinking. Case in point: Chapter 3. It’s all about a turtle and its journey across a road. Steinbeck’s telescoping observations are plain and profound all at once. He inspires humanity in strong, simple ways, just by telling the story of what was happening in our country at that time.

   One of the things that was happening, of course, was a westbound migration, an influx of people into California from here and other parts of the then suffering country, and I cannot help but make comparisons to our modern issues of Mexican immigration and border control. If you only have time to dabble, then please find chapter 21 and allow your heart to simmer in Steinbeck’s perspective on this hot button issue. He paints the picture from both sides and does so poetically.

   Another impression this book made on me was a new understanding of society. Heavily on a few pages about halfway in, but really all throughout the book, the reader sees disconnected people form and reform micro societies. They build social orders and maintain traditions and rituals without being told how to do so. They live and love according to some internal directives, revealing their hearts’ desires and their programmed humanity. This stuff was delicious to me. The cycles of need and relief, pain and pleasure, hot and cool, they made every page tangible.

   At our book club dinner-slash-swim party this past weekend, one member Desiree shared with us stories from her grandfather. Like many of our personal ancestors, he was a small child during Oklahoma’s Dust Bowl and Depression, but beyond that he has vivid memories of traveling to California with his parents. He remembers picking fruit for pennies and traveling Route 66 by car. He remembers returning to Oklahoma to live with his brother, around eighth grade. This turned out to be his last year of formal education, but he went on to become a successful businessman and is today a well respected pillar of the community in Seminole, Oklahoma. Isn’t that incredible? This cemented the Joad family story a little more and is another reminder to me of how much real, pulsing history we have in our grandparents. I am so thankful to Desiree for sharing this with us.


   Something else that we all found interesting was that the term Okie used to be terribly derogatory. Did you know that? I was surprised. I have heard and used this term my entire life and never once tasted negativity with it. But apparently, and certainly in Grapes, Okie was at that time an ugly, demeaning word used to refer to the dirty, misunderstood people from this part of the country. Fellow book-clubber Misti told us Saturday night that it was not until the 1995 Murrah Building bombing that Oklahomans adopted the word as a point of home-state pride and affection. Fascinating. Those of you not from here, have you heard this word? Do you use it? Does it mean anything to you? This is super interesting to me and I’d love some feedback.


   In closing, a few nuts and bolts statistics from our group:

  • Twelve fantastically smart, witty, gorgeous, and hilarious women read this book.
  • Only four of us has sort of read it before.
  • Three of the twelve admitted to not quite finishing the book and were honest about why. The turtle chapter was mentioned as perplexing by more than one person. 
  • Four of us would recommend this book to a friend.
  • Another novel is mentioned in the beginning of Grapes and is touted as another important read, probably a strong influence on Steinbeck at the time: The Winning of Barbara Worth  by Harold Bell Wright. Guess what was just added to my encyclopedic Goodreads list?
  • I used an ink pen with abandon while reading this book and estimate about three or four dozen notable quotes and expressions worth exploring further. The Grapes of Wrath is flush with poetry, wisdom, and social commentary. Read it.
   I hope I have encouraged you to spend some time with this novel. If you have already traveled Route 66 with the Joad family, I would love to hear your thoughts! In the mean time, I wish you the safest, surest journey possible. Appreciate whatever ease you have in life. Know that all difficulties have an end.
Proud to be an Okie
xoxoxoxo

 

Trading Wrath for Gratitude

   Today I cracked open our book club’s current selection, which we’ll discuss over dinner in June, The Grapes of Wrath by John Steinbeck. Just in case you don’t know, this is a novel partially set in my beloved home state of Oklahoma, during the brutal Depression and Dust Bowl. It follows the struggle of a native Oklahoma family who suffers from all the ramifications of the agricultural and economic failures of that time. This was a century ago, but how many bells are ringing in your heart right now?

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   I sat down to start this papery adventure after a morning of cruising junk and antique shops that were as lovely as they were tiny and unique, spending a few dollars on perfectly frivolous luxuries. I bought a heavy turquoise pendant handing from an old shoelace; a super long chain necklace with a kitschy locked heart charm at the bottom that desperately wants to be gold when it grows up; a medium sized but tarnished silver tray with wooden handles, the kind you use to serve breakfast in bed or maybe decorate a vintage-themed outdoor wedding which is coming up in seven days; three threadbare cotton handkerchiefs; a set of pink seashell-encrusted salt and pepper shakers from Florida; and an opulently  matted and framed oil painting for my dining room. None of these things were expensive (though the oil painting really should have been), but I acknowledge that none of them are really necessary, either. My life is brimming with undeserved luxury, and I know it.

   In addition to the material bounty, it happens that I soaked up the first four chapters of Grapes of Wrath while soft, cool rain fell in steady showers all over this grand land and flowers bloomed in every available container.

   The stark contrast between feast and famine, parched and verdant, would not be lost on any reader.
   This year, today, in this entire lifetime, I am so grateful. For the rain which is nourishing us again and for the milder temperatures we are enjoying at the moment. For the fields that are stacked deep and dotted and dressed with hundreds of beautiful, golden bales of soft hay. For every lake, river, and pond that glimmers past its banks with clean water. For the animals and gardens that feed not just our bellies, but also our souls. For the people who drive and toil toward every paycheck, especially my husband who has my deepest admiration.
   I am so thankful for living, breathing romance and for solid friendships and for children with better memories than I had feared. I am thankful that for every heartache we see hope. That for every frustration we eventually find relief. And that for every drought, somehow, mercifully, we get to see green again. I am really thankful that my bees are happy and that my watermelon vines are blooming, you guys. You cannot even imagine!
“The unthankful heart… discovers no mercies; 
but let the thankful heart sweep through the day and, 
as the magnet finds the iron, so it will find, in every hour, 
some heavenly blessings!”  
~Henry Ward Beecher
   I still believe very much in miracles. The small, nearly imperceptible sort that we sometimes call minutiae and also the most shocking, most unlikely ones, the ones that make headlines. Naturally tragedies continue and not every prayer is answered the way we expect. But unplanned joy and sudden relief are also facts of life. We just have to seek them out and then celebrate them when they appear. 
   Enjoy the lushness while you have it, however it looks for your life, today. Cultivate joy. Give thanks. Wear way too many necklaces that don’t match, it’s probably fine. Keep hope simmering on the back burner. It will nourish you from the inside out and ready you for the next lean year.
By the Way, Someone is Grateful for You, Too.
xoxoxoxo