Lazy W Marie

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

happy 28th birthday to my girl

You are twenty eight tomorrow. Twenty eight!

I remember your twenty first birthday. And before that, the day you first left for Colorado. I thought it would only be a few months, a seasonal internship.

Even earlier, the day you called me from Target. “I’m free,” you said. Your year of cross country. Your driver’s license and graduation. Your emergency appendectomy and volleyball games and love of horses and dogs and iguanas. Your Australian Outback birthday party. Your favorite pajamas and the way you loved to smell like vanilla bath products and how tireless you were in the pool. My little bronze fish. The summer you made a habitat for roly polys and wrote a care schedule that included “freedom time.” How precisely and imaginatively you played Pokemon and Zoo Tycoon. How fiercely protective you have always been of your little sister. Your first day of Kindergarten. Your first wobbly steps on that red carpet in our second apartment.

.

Of course I remember so vividly first seeing your delicate self and holding you and nursing you. That first night was perfect. You were perfect.

I remember the terrifying day I first learned I was pregnant and then the thrilling night a few months later when I had that vivid dream of your beautiful face, yet unseen. That dream was accurate; you were soon born looking exactly as it showed me, and it was only the beginning of vivid dreams about you. I have dreamt of you more than anyone in my life. Just a few weeks ago I had a very specific and encouraging dream about you that I have only told one person. I would love to tell you about it. The details have been shimmering in my body.

I also remember every separation, both small and brief like the first day of school or a difficult drop off  at day care or your Dad’s house. Certainly the longer, more traumatic goodbyes are etched in my memory.

I remember how it felt to hope and pray and worry all those years. I still feel these in cycles but have learned to worry less, to instead trust and imagine you as happy as possible.

I have so many beautiful memories of reuniting with you. I will forever be buoyed by the immense, overwhelming joy of seeing you happy and in your element.

On Trail Ridge Road, June 2015.

Many years ago I glanced at a belief system which holds that not only are human souls eternal, which means that each of us has always existed somewhere and could be born to anyone, at any time; but also that children choose their parents. I don’t know how to reconcile that.

a Christmas memory from during the Colorado years

Occasionally someone will ask me how long it has been since I have seen you, and I have to really think. Not because I don’t care or keep track, but because in a very literal sense you are always with me. I probably think about you more than anyone in my life.

You are the first person I pray for every day. You are the first person my thoughts find in a quiet moment. Alone with our animals all day long, I talk to them about you. I make sure that Dusty and Chanta especially hear your name plenty, for when you come home.

I still listen to music you shared with me in Colorado, mostly Skrillex while running. If I cook something you might like, your slim body and enormous brown eyes are with me in the kitchen. I imagine you getting all worked up about the ingredients and aroma but getting full after barely half a plate, ha!

grinning up a storm while campaigning for me
to drink some Gatorade rife with chia seeds.

Anything with a spiral shape belongs to you because you were once so passionate about the beauty of the Fibonacci Sequence.

When I hear anyone tell stories of Colorado, I think possessively, that is hers. You will always be Colorado to me. Snowball fights in April, under moonlight on Trail Ridge Road, hiking to Gem Lake and Angel Pass, through wildflowers and innumerable trees. Living with bears but not worrying because Bridget has it under control.  Remodeling your first cabin. It was tiny and perfect and strong, just like you.

I keep photos of you close as well as childhood toys and clothes. I use your patchwork twin quilt all the time but might need to stop, because it is threadbare now. I stopped buying gifts for you at holidays only because I think rationally of where you are in life now and realize I have no idea what you need anymore. A stack of gifts sits unopened in the Apartment closet. But I still have the urge to shower you with gifts every Christmas and every birthday. A basketful of treats at Easter. I would so truly love to watch movies with you and cook daal again and let you paint the Apartment for me this winter. A mural of your own imagining.

You occupy so much space in my heart, and have so constantly for more than twenty eight years, that the cold hard “fact” of not being in your life right now feels bizarre and unreal. So when people ask me, I fish for the answer and add up the months. I feel the nausea.  Sometimes shame too, because how could a mother survive being apart from her firstborn this long? Sometimes fear, both that you are better off without me and that you are not. Two awful possibilities. I always return to Love and Hope.

Is time elastic for you?

I believe firmly that it is, and that Love stretches and fills the space, the calendar, in weird ways I can barely comprehend, let alone explain.

Had someone told me when I first dreamed of your face that a time would come that I didn’t see you in the flesh for this long, I… Well I cannot say what I would have done, but it would have been incomprehensible to me. It still is, and yet.

You have proven your independence and your inner fire so many times, in ever more daring and beautiful ways. You have survived more pain, abuse, close calls, and disappointment than most people know, and I am sure there is much no one knows at all. But there is also a wealth of Joy and experiences we would all love to hear about.

Jocelyn, you are finally past so much. You are so loved, not just me but by a big family who misses you. You are so filled with talent and strength and beauty. This world was made infinitely better when you joined it. You have a terrifying life force for which I have always been grateful. Now more than ever.

I trust that you have made a beautiful and genuine home for yourself. I trust that if you are dating anyone, you feel like you can be yourself with them and are receiving all the love and respect in the world. You are so good at making friends and maintaining community. I trust that your friends appreciate that they have in their midst one of this world’s finest artists, most loyal companions, and smartest adventurers. I trust that you are doing work that brings you more money than you need so you can play and explore and enjoy your life. I trust that Bridget still loves to hike and that she still fetches rocks. I miss her too.

If your thoughts turn to me, to home, to anyone here, may they be warm and strong and feel good. A woman should always feel most at home with herself, of course, but I pray that you feel at home here again too, in your own time. May your memories and curiosities about Home assure you that you are safe here, that you are only loved, and that a lot has happened in the past few years to bring peace, healing, and understanding. Room for life to grow for everyone.

I hope someone is helping your birthday feel extra special this year. You deserve it.

I love you so much, baby.
Happy 28th birthday!
XOXOXO

a dream and a prayer

I had the most wonderful dream about Jocelyn last night.

Last night she came to me as a toddler, a baby really, those enormous dark brown eyes twinkling at me, her tiny pink mouth smirking and smiling. Her little body was bouncing and trembling with happiness. She wobbled around a table to me and reached up to be held, and in that dreamy way I could physically feel the smallness and buoyancy of her body. I could smell her milk breath, her soapy soft skin. Her fists grabbed at my hair and tugged it with baby strength.

Last night we traded deep stares and touched noses and clung to each other. We relayed our thoughts easily, without speaking. Everything was understood perfectly. No interference, no missteps, no regrets. Though she was a baby, she had already lived so much, and she was letting me know she was okay. I could, in a few giggling cuddles, relay my intentions. My immense love poured out and wrapped her up. She let me know she sees it all, even Colorado in retrospect, and I am here now, Mama, I love you, I need you.

In just a few minutes of cuddling, we burned through so many years of other people’s lies and abuses. I had time to correct my mistakes. We simmered in a chance to reclaim what was lost, and even more. Not just years but also memories, plans for the future, everything.

As I recall the details of the dream, I cannot remember how it ended. Just that we stayed together all day, in love and peace.

I miss her so much. I miss you so much, Jocelyn. I know I am supposed to focus on the good, and I really try to. I believe that Love wins and that what we have lost can at any moment be returned tenfold. I have been dreaming of her a lot lately, and maybe these dreams are gifts to remind me of that feeling. Because most of the time, awake, I just feel so much ache for my firstborn, anger and grief for the things she has endured, sadness mixed with admiration for the way she is forging through the world on her own. Just pain for the gaping emptiness our family feels without her.

I know she’s not a baby anymore, and she never will be again. But to me she will always be that beautiful and perfect, that full of energy and love, all promise and joy. To me Love will always win in her life. And I will always be here, ready when she is.

Until then, I am so grateful for every dream where she appears.

I love you, Joc.
XOXO

a nightmare, a memory, and promises

I am never not thinking about her. Day and night, whether I am alone or with people, she is there in the periphery at least but more often right up front, an up-close but silent line drawing around every face I see, every activity, every thought.

And I don’t know how much I am allowed to talk about it because at this moment there is nothing we can do but pray.

It’s not all worry or grief. I just plain miss her. Her voice, her smile, her skin. I miss her sense of humor, her plans, the way she loves her dogs and the mountains, the photos of what she’s cooking (she is such a wonderful, creative cook!). I miss our conversations, both deep and silly.

I miss that cozy assurance that she is my daughter and I am her mother and that no matter what happened during those years apart, no matter what people said and did, no matter how much time passed, it was always so. And it will always be so. I miss that assurance a lot. I fight voices every day whispering that the last few years were a lie, that she didn’t love me or that we didn’t actually regain that intimacy. That I was blinded by desperation.

She does appear in my dreams still, but less often in that magical way I experienced during her first long absence. Lately, they are nightmares, although sometimes those can deliver a spark of hope too. 

Two nights ago I dreamed she was an infant and we were swimming together in dark purple water, barely lit from above by a single light source. It was a deep, narrow chute of water, like an underwater cave surrounded by nothing. She was drowning. Her tiny face angry and contorted, so blue it was almost black, silent but screaming, panicked for air, furious that she couldn’t breathe, terrified. I was below her. My legs were tied with corrugated pool hoses and wires, tied so tight I couldn’t kick. My arms were reaching out, my fingertips barely touching her. In that dream, I could feel her tiny, fleshy body bob against my hands. It was visceral. All I could do was just barely tap her through the water, toward the surface.

When she had an emergency appendectomy several years before all of this, her recovery was a miracle. Leading up to her discharge, she very much wanted to do everything the doctors told her to do, such as sit up on her own and learn again to twist out of bed. She was fighting both an infection from lack of antibiotics at the hospital and the normal abdomen pain from the gas they used to inflate her little belly for surgery. Moving on her own was important but uncomfortable, and it was difficult for me to not help her. One moment in particular as she was struggling to sit up, and I was struggling to watch her, she looked at me so sweetly and said, “Just a little nudge, Mama?” I rushed in and gave her the smallest nudge on her lower back and a little pressure on her upper arm, and she gripped me for balance. She twisted and sat up straight and stood up on her own. Gradually she walked and soon she felt so much better.

Just a little nudge, Mama?

In the dream, she was just a baby but she looked at me with those big brown China doll eyes and begged for help I couldn’t provide. Pleaded for it. Her face blue and her body slipping down into the dark water, her pale chubby legs kicking against the shadows.

Again I nudged her lightly, barely a tap, and the water floated her for a moment until she sank again. I cried out to God silently in my thoughts, “SAVE MY BABY, PLEASE COME GET HER, DON’T YOU SEE HER?? I CANNOT REACH HER, SHE IS SINKING!!”

Screamed it.

And He did. He reached down in that instant and pulled her swiftly to the surface, where she found air and warmth and sunlight just in time. I couldn’t see her anymore but I was relieved. I still felt could still feel the hoses around my legs and the thick, oily cold water all over my body, those details only dreams can make you feel.

She was gone but safe. And I woke up.

A little while after waking up I cried telling my husband about the dream, it was so terrifying. But saying it out loud I finally heard the promises:

  • God rescues when we are powerless.
  • He does see.
  • He does hear our silent screams.
  • He will show up just in time.
  • He loves her now just like when she was an infant, just like when she was a little girl in the hospital. Just like always. 

Please keep praying for her.

There is so much more I could say, about what we have learned regarding helping and enabling, or maybe the differences between protecting and teaching, I don’t know. I don’t anything really excpet I miss her and love her so much. And she is so much pain and danger, and I cannot help her. Cannot even give her a nudge right now.

So my days are filled with animals and housework, running and cooking dinner. Unprecedented miracles (how can I tell them?) and awful nightmares. She remains with me every second, an indelible line drawing. My first baby, my friend, and so much more I cannot even express.

Several of you have loved ones in similar peril. I want you to know that every day when I pray for her, I pray for your babies too, no matter how old they are. 

Several of you have reached out to privately share some of your own stories about overcoming, recovery, and straight up the miracle-working Love of God. I cannot thank you enough. It is all oxygen to us.

“And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?
Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea;
And there was a great calm.”
~Matthew 8:26
XOXOXOXO

jocelyn’s amazing colorado tiger butter

This past week, since writing to you guys about our recent feast on Soul Cake, we have feasted on the glorious stuff even more. Our oldest surprised us with a visit home from Colorado, and now she is home again, back in Colorado. She is at home with herself, really, and with her sweet pup Bridget, but that is a whole other blog post. Anyway, to say that Christmas came early to the Lazy W is quite an understatement.

Today, while the details are fresh, I want to share with you a recipe she taught me this week: Tiger Butter. You just might find it useful for an upcoming holiday party! Then soon, more Soul Cake stories, because my gosh… xoxo

jocelyns-amazing-colorado-tiger-butter-c

Background: The Girl worked a brief stint at a well known candy shop, The Rocky Mountain Chocolate Factory. While there she learned all kinds of great tricks and secrets about candy making and has been eager to share it all. Most notable to me is how she learned to measure ingredients by weight, not volume. I had read a little about this in Julia Child’s book My Life in France but never really considered the practical differences until Jocelyn stood in front of my Oklahoma stove puzzling out her chocolate-peanut butter ratios. After a few moments she declared with that signature doe-eyed confidence, “We’re just gonna eye-ball it.” Okay! And it turned out so good.

Tiger Butter is a bark-style candy flavored like Reese’s and named for its stripes, which you achieve by dragging a knife through contrasting flavors/colors of molten yumminess. It has precious few ingredients and comes together more easily than I expected. Tiger Butter is so rich that you must nibble it slowly, in tiny cold pieces, so a batch seems to last forever compared to, say, a big heap of chunky oatmeal cookies that can double as a meal for yours truly. According to Joc, and I heartily agree, a mouthful of Tiger Butter requires a chaser of ice cold milk. I would suggest strong dark coffee too, but the combo of high sugar with high caffeine might be… Shaky.

Okay.

What You Need:

  • 2 microwave-safe bowls, one medium and one small (Yes, you could certainly do this stove top instead.)
  • a shallow freezer-safe dish lined with waxed paper (we used a petite glass one, somewhat smaller than 9 x 13)
  • about 2 cups your favorite peanut butter (We used just less than half of a 28-ounce jar of Peter Pan smooth. She said crunchy is also delicious if you like added texture.)
  • 1 bag white chocolate chips
  • 1/2 bag your favorite chocolate chips to supplement the white chocolate (I think she chose semi-sweet. This was part of the confident eye-balling in lieu of weighing out the ingredients, so you should do the same, knowing that this chocolate will blend with the peanut butter and white chocolate flavors.)
  • up to but not necessarily a whole bag of dark chocolate chips (for the top layer)

That is a lot of richness, right? Straight peanut butter and at least two bags of chocolate chips. But to my surprise you need neither butter nor evaporated milk like with pralines, no eggs, etc. Tiger butter is a rich, dense, straight to the point, focused indulgence. A lot like my girl, if you ask me.

Okay.

What You Do:

  1. Line the shallow pan with waxed paper and set aside.
  2. In medium bowl, combine peanut butter, white chocolate chips, and extra chocolate chips (as needed) then cook in the microwave, stirring occasionally, melt some more, get it smooth and shiny. (Joc said the proportions should be approximately 1:1 peanut butter to chocolate, but she also tasted it and adjusted between melting sessions. You can scarcely make this wrong so no worries.)
  3. Pour this pale colored lava into your prepared dish/pan. Admire the sheen and the shimmer. Set aside.
  4. In smaller bowl, melt the dark chocolate to the same glossy gorgeousness.
  5. Dollop this second chocolate onto the pale layer gently, maybe on alternating sides. Think of this step as your chance to be creative. You are staging the origins of your stripes.
  6. Now use either a butter knife or a toothpick or a chopstick (something more delicate than your finger, though you will be tempted) to drag slow, deliberate lines from one dollop to the next, leaving drag marks as you go. Drag all the way across the pan then start again, going in opposing directions. Again, get creative and have fun! Joc said she once drew her name in the chocolate. So somewhere out in the world a stranger has enjoyed handmade chocolate with my daughter’s name frozen in the face of it. If you move in an even, checkerboard pattern your dark chocolate layer can achieve a feathery effect, which is beautiful.
  7. Once you like the look of your creation, place the whole thing in the freezer for a couple of hours. It will harden nicely without changing design at all. Later, if you lift it out by the waxed paper hammock, you can then cut it uniformly with a sharp knife or break it into irregular, craggy shapes. It packs great for gifts or a potluck party or a dessert bar, whatever your plan. Remember a little of this rich treat goes a long way!

That’s it! Some chocolate chips, some peanut butter, your microwave and freezer, and a little time. You will be elbow deep in homemade candy and also have a cool connection to the Rockies and my beautiful firstborn.

Thanks for checking in, friends. I hope your December has been filled with surprises and miracles like ours. I hope you try making your own Tiger Butter! And I hope to see you here again soon. Lots more fun stuff on the horizon.

Be sweet
XOXOXOXO

 

the ways she makes us better

Today we celebrate twenty-one years of a certain girl making this world so much better. Let’s count some of the ways.

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blue hair don’t care

Because of her, we have more art. Really great art, in several mediums. She has for all her life churned out beautiful creations; and now as an adult she has a special knack for deep, artistic thinking. Anyone is lucky to stay up all night talking with her about life and the Universe. 

Because of her, there is more good sportsmanship floating around and lots of under dogs are being uplifted and defended. Sometimes this puts her in a painful situation, but she is true to her own heart and conscience, and the world is better for it.

She has a heart for saying heavy things and for sensing when people are holding difficult feelings close. Her appetite for truth and substance means that those close to her are challenged, nourished, and awakened. 

Over the years, dozens of horses young and old have felt her wide-eyed, little-girl love and affection. Dozens more since then have experienced her strength and skill in horsemanship, and we all know that this story will continue for decades. She applies this wisdom and understanding to nearly every part of her life, and it yields some incredible depth.

She has broken a few hearts already and spreads a veil of fun and romance everywhere she goes. At twenty-one this girl is beginning to sense her own feminine power and is finding her own strength in solitude. This will only intensify her future relationships, and it will only make her happier in the mean time. She is becoming more and more at home within herself, which makes everything she has to offer more special. 

International students who have crossed her path return to their home countries with stories and memories of a sweet, wild girl from Oklahoma who changed everything for them in Colorado.

She is an adamant music lover and appreciator of complex musical efforts. I believe one day the world will enjoy her artwork on really great, well chosen album covers. Until then, everyone’s playlists are more interesting.

This world is much richer for all the good, meaningful conversation she insists on having. With everyone. All kinds of people. She is not much one for surface scratching, and for this I am thankful. The world needs a little less small talk.

If our global cultures rely on cross-pollination, then she is a valuable pollinator. She attracts and processes new ways of living and is never afraid of trying new ethnic foods and customs. She wants to know how to say “I love you” in multiple languages and values travel and life experiences over material possessions. 

Her attention to detail means that the fresh water aquariums in her care are spotless, filled with life, happy, and beautiful.  Her fish love her so much they never let her sleep late, ha! And one extremely lucky little rescue dog knows more than anyone how much difference this young woman makes in the world.

Thanks to her, the mountains in Colorado have been lovingly hiked and admired for hundreds of extra hours. She is evangelizing their legends and stunning beauty to anyone who will listen. In the near future we believe she will be guiding fellow adventure-seekers on more hikes, adding to the already long list of people who will always remember her as the best camp counselor ever.

I could go on and on. This porcelain-skinned beauty is daily changing the world around her. Her twenty-first birthday will mark the beginning of even more life. I am wildly grateful to be close to her for this gorgeous chapter. And I am so proud of the influence she is having on everyone and everything she touches.

But of course, somehow I was lucky enough to be first. She changed my world forever, a little more than 21 years ago.

Happiest of birthday wishes to my beautiful baby girl,
my belly-kicking, giggle box, doe-eyed treasure, all grown up.
I love you more than I can ever write!
XOXOXOXO
~Mamasita