Happy Monday! Here’s a quick bit of motivation for your fresh new week.

As I was wrapping up my run this morning I was tired and hungry and honestly amazed by how drenched in sweat I was despite the cool temps. (Hashtag humidity)

I could easily have stopped right there at 7 miles to eat and rest but wanted very much to start the week with a good, solid ten miles, hungry or not. It just sets the tone for all kinds of productivity and high energy work at home. So I distracted myself thinking of how many things we can endure if we choose to.

Human beings can really endure some stuff!

Just for fun, here is a list of endurance trophies we can earn for ourselves. Most of them are running related, but not all. And as always the running lessons translate beautifully into the rest of life.

In celebration of Boston Marathon registration opening this week, I made the list exactly 26 items long:

1. Hunger or thirst (just imagine that first drink or first bite, it will be so delicious!)
2. Boredom (cultivate a strong, flexible, inventive mind. Put your imagination to good use!)
3. Copious amounts of sweat
4. Wet feet & slippery socks
5. Chafing
6. Sore muscles
7. Sheer exhaustion
8. Anger
9. Sadness
10. Stress
11. Distractions (Practice new ways to slow down & focus.)
12. Hot hot hot sun like it will kill you
13. Rain like it might flood and also drown you
14. Loneliness
15. Self Doubt (long runs are excellent opportunities to prove yourself wrong about some insecurities.)
16. Disappointments (“Sweet isn’t sweet without the sour.”)
17. Shock
18. Grief (Have you read the Buddhist Mustard Seed parable yet?)
19. Tight finances & limited resources (Some of our happiest memories have been made when we were flat broke.)
20. Awkward social situations
21. Mondays. (Make ’em count!)
22. Long drives through Kansas or the Oklahoma Panhandle (I mean probably)
23. That awful pleasure-pain of a deep tissue massage
24. Waiting for a prayer to be answered (Trust Him, it is worth it.)
25. Listening to an ok writer try to tell a story verbally. (See #20.)
26. Winter

Speaking of human endurance, when the time is perfect for her I will be so excited for you to read what my sister Angela has to share. She has endured far more than some hard miles in fancy shoes by choice. She is the real deal, and her life proves that endurance is vital and life-giving. We can absolutely survive more than we think we can, and it makes the other side of things so much more beautiful when we make it.

Hang in there, friends, endure it!!

“Endurance is not just the ability to bear a hard thing
but to turn it into glory.”
~William Barclay
XOXOXOXO

 

Hello friends and thank you so much for the love and encouragement you guys showed after yesterday’s post. Your comments here and on Facebook and in email all helped me feel very normal and not alone in the brackish water of life. We do all swim in a wonderful mix of good and bad. And you helped me want to write again, but more deeply, with more purpose. Thank you. 

You may have seen on Instagram later in the day that after that blog post, life served up another curveball. Sort of.

On one hand, it’s another emotional shock. On the other, it’s exactly the kind of thing that tends to happen just before a breakthrough, which I have been feeling was on its way. So, I actively choose to trust God. (What good is it for me only trust Him in easy, happy times? He’s got this, and so do we. We can do more than we think, and we can pray our way through any unknown, believing that His strength is made perfect in our weakness.)

Jocelyn has apparently moved back to Estes Park, or at least is traveling there now, we don’t know. As I told my husband, it hurts because I have already been missing her so much, even as nearby as she had been while living with her paternal grandparents in Oklahoma City. The physical proximity was slightly comforting, but our contact was limited and strained. So I just miss her so much, despite trusting God with her well being. 

By contrast, I remember feeling so close to her last September and all those three years leading up to that time. Just beautifully, intimately acquainted and well bonded. As I type this we are just past the three year anniversary of Joc moving to Estes Park for what was supposed to be a six-month YMCA experience. She stayed, obviously, and followed her heart in unpredictable ways. She grew and deepened and found herself, which I celebrated and shared sparingly here and there. We all just felt our way through every curveball, relinquishing control (which is an illusion) and grasping to our relationship instead. I visited her as often as possible and during those weeks we made thousands, millions, of beautiful memories. 

In September of last year, Joc was still living in EP, in a new apartment with her two pups and her boyfriend at the time and sometimes another friend. She was working two jobs and loving life, beginning to consider some college classes. She had just celebrated her twenty-second birthday, and  I sent her a gift package including homemade granola. Pumpkin-spice with pecans and coconut. She said opening it smelled like home. I felt her love and believed she felt mine. We talked on the phone several times per week and traded notes daily. Whatever was going on behind the scenes, my husband and I were in that blissful ignorance of how everything was about to implode.

Back to yesterday. I cried for a while after hearing the news that she was gone again, but I was not terror-stricken like before.  Nor was I, really, all that surprised. Just very sad. She is and will always be my baby, as trite as that sounds. I love her name, her face, her skin, her voice. I love her taste in music, her passions, her athleticism, her sense of humor and her unmatched artistic talent. I love her dogs. (I miss Bridget and Bubbins so much I sobbed through yoga three days ago. Will they remember us?)

And yet, yesterday as we absorbed the news, God was physically in the living room with us. I felt that familiar glowing, insulating sensation He brings every time we grieve hard and deep. I knew He was aware of every detail, including the things we didn’t and might never know. This assurance slowed my breath and just kind of stilled everything.

He loves her even more than I do, and His power and protection reach all the way along the interstate through Kansas, all the way up that mountain, and into every cabin and restaurant, into every complex human condition which might affect her. He has always been with her when I wasn’t, and He always will be.

Life goes on, all around us.

Before hearing that news, Monday was fairly productive. Early in the morning, I did some sewing and ironing of BW’s work shirts. Then I wrote that blog post and did morning chores around the farm, indoors and out. The gardens were happily unharmed by the overnight frost, and I silently congratulated us for having brought the potted plants indoors and for making sure the flower and veggie beds had all been deeply watered and mulched ahead of the cold snap.

I drove to one of my nearby running spots and luxuriated in 8 easy miles on dirt trails, listening to a mix of Oprah’s podcats and Skrillex, then grabbed the few household supplies we needed from Walmart. You know, like clearance Easter chocolate.

And extra white thread!

The sewing projects I mentioned include curtains, aprons, and other kitchen treats for Jessica, now 20 and chipping away at some thrilling goals she has set for herself. She found her first (very tiny and extremely adorable) place and is moving in this week! We are so happy for her, so excited! This chapter of anyone’s life can be one of the most fun and most memorable, and she is on the right track to make it so. I’ll share photos only if and when she grooves it. Just know that she is as bright and beautiful and you can imagine.

Parenting note: I have had to make a conscious effort to limit how often I mention Jocelyn’s first apartment, which you might recall was that perfect, tiny cabin she renovated. Remember the blue kitchen and pegboard storage wall we installed? I understand now how well-meaning parents of adult children might accidentally frame little stories as competition or comparisons. That is never my intention. It’s all just part of my life. Has this happened to anyone else? 

Also on Monday, I received the most wonderful surprise in our mailbox. Rachel Forest is a mother, writer, and public speaker who also handcrafts gorgeous leather and beaded jewelry. Exactly my style. She and I met when we were on the same cast for LTYM, and for that, I am so grateful. Her story about redeeming motherhood was powerful. She sent me this gorgeous pair of turquoise earrings, very unexpectedly! And the handwritten note is so beautiful. The timing of her gift was perfect. To hear from a friend I made while sharing my motherhood story, on a difficult day in our ongoing parenting saga, had God written all over it. Thank you, Rachel. xoxoxo I can’t wait to wear these and will pay your kindness forward.

Tuesday should be full. I am headed out now to tackle The Big List, run slightly more miles than yesterday (plus hip strengtheners because it’s helping my feet of all things), and hopefully not get blown away by the wind gusts here. What does your day look like?

Thank you again for your loving words. I hope if we cross your mind for any reason you will consider praying for Joceyn’s safety and happiness, for her to hear God’s voice for everything she craves and needs. And for Jessica, that she continues to find her own footing and know how loved and supported she is at this exciting time.

You have our prayers too, any time you need them.

“A single act of kindness throws out roots in all directions,
and the roots spring up and make new trees.”
~Amelia Earhart
XOXOXOXO

 

 

Yesterday evening after a wonderful Easter dinner and board games, my sister Angela and I stole away to our childhood kitchen to talk. We covered a lot of ground in a few solitary minutes, and one thing that came up was social media and what I choose to write about here on this blog. (Social media itself is a much-happening conversation in my life lately, by the way; an interesting shift is happening amongst my friends.)

I shared with her that over the years I have at times written very personal stories and enjoyed the warm embrace of whoever my readers were at that time. Sometimes though, and almost always at the times it would hurt the most, I have shared deeply private things and felt some serious backlash. So I lately tend to keep it pretty much on the surface.

Anyway.

All that to say that I have so much more to write about. Stuff beyond more frequent updates about #farmlife and #slowfood and my ground-breaking salad ideas (ha!) and running goals. Not that those topics aren’t fun! But they only scratch the surface. The daily fabric of life is important and how we relate to each other. But certainly, we all have secrets and tragedies and spiritual battles, family histories and terrifying giants that we’re trusting can be felled by five stones in God’s name. We relate to each other this way, too. It’s just that shame, fear of backlash, and other reasons keep us from sharing those stories.

So there are many, many stories like this that are begging to be written. And I would hope that the writing might be more than cathartic for me; I would hope to buoy someone or shed light into a murky situation, at least.

For example?

What really happened in Colorado last November and where Jocelyn is now. And what our friends and family did to help us. Why I know we did the right thing, no matter what is being said about us now, by the same people who called us for desperate help then.

The advice my Dad has given us since November. (I should really share this because maybe you need it too. He’s a really amazing Dad and I am so lucky to have him.)

Why my children were gone for so long (at least as I see it).

What unprecedented miracles have happened in recent months to restore our family.

The time DHS appeared at the farm. And how vicious a custody battle can be.

Why I tend to form resentments against certain “types” of mothers. And how I am trying to soften my heart in that respect.

What happened with my husband’s sister and her adult son, what they did to the home where we raised the girls.

And the restorative miracles God has provided since then, both financially and emotionally.

The nature of addiction and the foul, destructive ways it has permeated our family (and my ex-husband’s) throughout generations.

The actual differences and similarities between Catholicism and Pentecost, in my own experience.

Why I am at peace with our church being closed. How much deeper my spiritual walk has been since, and yet how much I do understand what all those years meant to my husband (and to me for that matter).

The time we have been spending with new friends at monthly small group discussions.

Our new Lazy W Outreach project.

The deepest reasons I love running. (Five years into this, it’s about so much more than weight management now. Man.)

What my sister Angela’s life has been like these recent years, and the years before that, and what she has learned about fear and love, all about the same time I have been learning it too. And why I have resented her so bitterly. And how we have finally made peace and started a brand new friendship.

The sight of a woman I used to respect and admire, strapped to a hospital bed following a suicide attempt. And the precipitating storms since then.

What it’s like not having a “real job” in our stormy climate of feminism and all that jazz. And how it feels when people assume I have gobs of free time available for the taking. And how much I love having time free for my own taking, and my husband’s.

The few vivid and unshakable reasons I will always “unfriend” people on social media and why I am quick to burn certain bridges, seemingly out of the blue.

The first thoughts I tend to have when someone says they are trying to have a baby, or they are battling infertility.

How Jessica is faring and what her journey has looked like this past year especially. I want to tell you all about her stay in Germany with the Benedictine nuns and also all about her next chapter.

How I can tell the difference between a dream that is mental junk and a dream that is a message from God. Also, how I know His voice in the daytime. I’ve known since I was about six years old.

Why book club ended so suddenly, according to me.

And so very much more. Honestly, the things I could write about but choose to protect far outnumber the things I could write about but just don’t take the time to, because I do stay pretty busy these days. I am sure if pressed, you would say the same about your own life.

Life is messy and being a human is complicated, as my friend Mickey says.

You might glance through this quickly brainstormed list and easily peg the topics that I would protect mostly because the stories belong also to other people. Our lives are interconnected after all, and my own experience is only ever one of many overlapping circles, you know? I would never want to dilute someone else’s truth by highlighting my own.

(That is exactly why writing for Listen to Your Mother last spring was so difficult. Which is a whole other story to include in this list!)

Lots of shame, too. And even without shame, lots of things in life are just plain difficult to explain fully, and it hurts to live them over and over again. I have healed from plenty over the years, just like you have, and if given I choice I always choose to move forward.

Face the light, celebrate the miracles, live in the moment, today. Expect good things in the future.

I believe this stuff.

So why do these things keep circling?

Okay, friends. I don’t know what this means for this blog, going forward. I just needed to catch my breath and punctuate this a bit. Thank you for reading today and every single time you visit here. Thank you for your kind comments and emails, always, and for the unkind ones too because they have taught me a lot. Thank you for good vibes and prayers. You have mine always!

Now, on this chilly April morning, I am going to check on the animals and my gardens, because we woke up to a frosty farm. And then I will run 7 or 8 easy miles and go buy some white thread to finish a sewing project for Jessica and work on aprons for friends. And then? We will see. The list is long, as always, just like yours but probably very different too.

“Courage starts with showing up
and letting ourselves be seen.”
~Brene Brown
XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

 

 

 

Every day here in Oklahoma we are seeing unmistakable signs of springtime. The new growth and pops of brights pinks and yellows, of course, but more than that. Stronger signals here at the farm, and they are echoing in my heart.

Our hens are becoming possessive of their eggs. It’s so fun. For many weeks now, the daily count has been holding steady at around eleven, but twice recently I was pecked and complained at for making that collection. And judging from the roosters’ songs, they too have the idea that babies would be a pretty fantastic goal.

Our two horses are shedding in earnest, suddenly. I noticed some shed a few weeks ago, before that ice storm, but they grew fuzzy again, and I have to admit, that brief and light fuzz loss could have been from brushing. What I am seeing now is unprovoked. And voluminous. Also, Chanta and Dusty can often be found with full bellies in the full sun, napping in the middle field. The siesta hours are sacred to them, and I plan to join them in this habit soon.

Meh is less of a napper, for sure; so how he tells me it’s springtime is by swimming in the pond more often. And if Klaus is outside with me and catches sight of this, I am soon greeted by a dripping wet and very muddy but very happy Shepp. He chases that llama like it’s his job. And if he has to suffer through a pond romp, then so be it.

I have barely started planting cool-season flowers in the house gardens and have been cleaning and trimming back everything everywhere else. That can be done too early, I suppose; but it’s not too early and I will prove it. Today I slipped off my denim work gloves and sifted the loose earth with my bare hands. It was warm and silky, almost moist with the perfect amount of crumble. I felt three plump earthworms wriggle quickly through the stuff, thread through my fingers, and race back to the shadows. Springtime.

Following the much-debated Daylight Savings Sunday, this work week has been extra beautiful with so many late sunsets. Two nights in a row Handsome and I have gone to bed early and in the Apartment instead of our bedroom, just so we could watch the very edge of dusk collapse over the pond. Then from our vantage there, we can see the stars take over the sky and enjoy the undulating sandy hills washed in moonlight. 

We have actually heard frog song already. And so many birds, every day.

Finally, say you want about Bradford Pear trees, but the grove next door in front of the Pine Forest is in full solid white bloom right now, and our honeybees are obsessed. I walked there yesterday to collect branches, and the collective hum and buzz sounded amplified. 

 

Next Wednesday is the official start of springtime. And our nights could become frosty for several more weeks, still.

But I am happy. All of these beautiful details are sure signs to me, of abundant Love and fresh energy. We are surrounded by trustworthy reminders that new life always takes over, no matter how hard and bitter the dead times have been.

I’ll take it slow and easy and let it all unfold with some delicacy. A measure of patience. It’s not my design, after all, nor my plan, just my paradise to enjoy and tend.

I’ll let the Oklahoma winds blow away fear and regret along with the dead oak leaves.

A handful of pleasures every day. And miracles right around the corner.

XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

 

 

 

All of this beauty already, and soon, day by day, we will be tasting the air a bit differently. Everything will be new again.