Today is my baby sister Genny’s birthday. She is the real deal, and I love her sooooo much, it hurts just a tad. Every year I get better acquainted with the young woman she has become, and so every year I fall a little more in love with her. If you know Gen, then you know what I mean. She is a number crunching, book devouring, roller derby skating, wave making, bungalow buying, friendship nurturing, world traveling force of nature. And I was there when she was born. You’re welcome, world, is what Im trying to say.

   I originally posted my version of Gen’s birth story here two years ago, and if you’ll indulge me I am rebooting it today. http://thelazyw.blogspot.com/2012/01/twenty-nine-years-ago-yesterday.html

Happy Birthday sweet girl. I would love you forever even if I didn’t have to.

********************

   Debbie was already there, too. She was my parents’ good friend, someone who I loved dearly and who always ate granola with honey and who carried a purple backpack full of notebooks and dangly earrings and who went to school in places like Vermont. Vermont! She sent me postcards from college. It was a pretty big deal. She had a gorgeous mane of hair that at one time was shorn off with just a three foot braid trailing down her narrow back. She was a beautiful mystery to me.

   Deb was a midwife and a smart, loving woman, but we were still headed to the hospital. We found the travel bags that had been long-since prepared. Dad helped Mom into the back seat of our cute little white Subaru wagon. She is petite and so fit perfectly on the shallow bench seat. I was perched on Debbie’s lap in the front passenger seat. It was freezing cold, and my teeth chattered. Dad drove. Dad drove like I had never seen him drive before, nor have I since. I doubt he ever blinked once on that drive. 

   We lived only about ten minutes from Baptist hospital in Oklahoma City, and with the absence of traffic in the wee hours of the morning, it should have been a quick, uneventful trip.

   We drove north-west up the Expressway, slicing through the dark with our happy little emergency. I sat stone like on Debbie’s calm lap and did not say a word. In my mind I can remember her patchouli smell, too, and feel her long braid against my shoulder. Her lavender vinyl backpack full of treasures was at our feet. Back then I thought Debbie was a wizened creature of the universe, older than I would ever be, but in truth she was just out of high school, not yet off to college in Vermont. She was surely wise then but very young. Perspective is a funny thing.

   We all sat stiffly in our seats and trembled from the cold and the adrenaline. I remember eventually giggling with Debbie and feeling so grown up and special to be allowed this chance to welcome our new family member into the world. Seeing a sibling born is something that just cannot be duplicated.

   “Joe, it’s time! It’s really, really time!” Mom was nearly shrieking. Shrieking.

   Now remember, in Dad’s defense, there had already been a few false starts that holiday season. Hard contractions were a fact of daily life since Christmas, so much so that I was trained by then to help time them. So Dad had to think it could be another false alarm. And besides, we lived scant minutes away from the hospital and he was already driving that little Subaru like a Duke boy.

   Now, in Mom’s defense, she had already given birth naturally three times in her young life. Even with the season’s false labors, she had to know what she was talking about. From my nine-year old front seat perspective that night? My money was on Mom. For real.

   “I know, we’re almost there. Hang on.” Dad’s focus alternated between the pointless midnight traffic lights, the Subaru’s stick shift, and the reflection of his young wife in the rear view mirror. I cannot tell you with certainty that he was breathing. Or blinking.

   “No, I’m not kidding! It’s really time, NOW!!!”

   “Almost there, honey!”

   “Joe, NOW! RIGHT NOW!! I mean it!”

   Just recalling this moment gives me a rush of fear and wonder.

   Dad zipped off to the grassy center median just shy of May avenue and threw the Subaru into park. He raced around the nose of the car to the passenger side and pulled open the back door. He arrived just in time to catch his baby as Mom pushed. And screamed.

   Just in time.

   I will never for as long as I live forget the moment that Mom’s guttural screaming changed over to laughter. Effervescent, joyful, riotous laughter! Have you ever heard this rare, split second syllable before? Whatever pain and panic she was feeling one moment was instantly and permanently forgotten, as labor pain often is. Her voice was suddenly all thrill and love and peace, elation and amazement in the cold cargo light of the Subaru back seat.

   Then we all started laughing again, and Debbie and I hugged ferociously in the front seat. I remember twisting around to stare at my beautiful Momma, a thick white chenille blanket wrapped around her and slightly bloodied. This tiny, messy, trembling, screaming bundle on her hips. Mom was curling up easily to find her infant’s face and offered the most beautiful, most consuming smile I had ever seen.

   “It’s a girl!” Dad said shakily. I had another sister. And I loved her instantly. We all did.

   Then I got a glimpse of the gross ropy alien umbilical cord, gagged a little in my throat, and turned back to face front.

 

I remember very few details after that except arriving at the emergency room drive up doors. Dad escorted Mom with the baby girl and several happy nurses into the cavernous mouth of the hospital, and Debbie and I were on our own for a while. Family legend has it that Debbie fainted at the hospital! I wish I had more of that story for you. But I was only nine years old, and quite sleepy by then.

 

All was well. Both Mom and Genny were healthy and perfect, and that Subaru would go down in history for sure. I wonder if Dad ever drives west on the Expressway without thinking of that night. Another family legend is that we almost named Genny “Toni” because she was born directly across from an Italian restaurant, Tony’s Vi Aroma. But instead she became Genevieve Michelle Dunaway, and when I returned to fourth grade to tell the story I proudly said her name was Guinevere. Everyone believed me.

   Friends, being one of the first people to see my beautiful little sister Genny sort of gave me the idea that she was partly mine. Helping to cuddle, change diapers, and entertain tiny siblings is one thing; witnessing that first moment of air-sucking emergence into this crazy world is quite another. It doesn’t hurt that she has remained perfectly adorable and loving in every way.

   Thanks for sharing in this happy memory today.  Please feel free to leave a birthday wish for Gen here.

   Do you have a cool birth story to share? I would love to hear that, too!

I love you Gen, More than you know.

XOXOXOXO

 

My great-grandfather, Papa Joe Nieberding, was a large animal vet and a beekeeper in northeastern Oklahoma. My childhood memories are sweetened by quarts of his gleaming raw honey sitting in our pantry, and my imagination runs wild with stories about a crocodile that may or may not have lived in his watery cellar. His beautiful wife, my great-grandmother Mimi (Velma) Nieberding, was a homemaker, an accomplished writer, and an Oklahoma historian. Their old, interesting house in Miami, Oklahoma had a most magical second-story library. It was tucked neatly into the recesses of a broad wooden staircase, and it had odd little places to sit with a pillow and get lost in mildewy pages. The small library nest overlooked an expansive room with bare plank floors, layered area rugs, and a rock fireplace. I remember dozens of green house plants and long games of cards or chess at sunny window tables here, but I do not remember a television. The kitchen was adjacent, and a big table there was always circled by adults drinking coffee and laughing, discussing mysterious adult things. Probably politics, possibly bees and the weather and farming. Maybe that crocodile and its appetite for naughty children.

A few months ago my Uncle Tim visited the Lazy W to help celebrate my parents’ fortieth wedding anniversary. I have always loved him so much. One of my Dad’s little brothers, Uncle Tim was young enough when I was a little girl to feel like my own big brother, something I don’t actually have except by marriage to Handsome, which gave me Eddie. Well, Uncle Tim surprised me with the most amazing gift. He brought me this gorgeous ancient notebook, its spiral binding rusted and tight, its green plastic cover brittle and smudged with dirty fingerprints, one humble skinny sticker on the front bearing Papa Joe’s name and mailing address.

I was speechless then, but not now. Exploring this journal (so carefully because the pages are extremely delicate!) has been thrilling, and I want to share parts of it with you.

Late Winter 1972

This is the time of the year when the Sunshine Days are appreciated the most. All those dark rainy days when the nights are so long makes us really yearn for Spring & Summer. I go to the bee yard and see bees frantically searching for pollen and nectar. Back at the house I find a few crocus in bloom and note that the bees are testing each bloom every few minutes. I think if one had a large planting of these very early flowering plants it might be of value for pollen.

My daughters were both babies when Papa Joe passed in 1997, and for so many reasons I wish I could sit down with him now and talk about his bees and his gardens, his life. I wish I could sit down and talk to Mimi Nieberding, too, about hundreds of beautiful things. Who knows how she gently influenced my life passions? Instead I will pore over Papa’s scribbled thoughts and glean what I can then share it all here.

Also, tonight is the first Frontier Beekeepers’ Association meeting of the new year, and I plan to bring this journal with me. Papa Joe kept a list of his fellow apiarists in the front of his notebook, and believe it or not I recognize at least one gentleman’s name as being an active member still. The whole of the Oklahoma beekeeping community is rather small, after all. This should be fun.

“Carve your name on hearts, not tombstones. A legacy is etched into the minds of others and the stories they share about you.”  ~Shannon L. Alder

XOXOXOXO

Well hello again! Today I am posting an easy little update on my marathon training progress. In fact, this may become the regular Monday blog feature: Marathon Monday!

If you know me in 3-D then you are probably sick of hearing me talk about this; but the thing is, is, it’s exciting and a big part of my life this spring. Prepping for my first marathon consumes a reasonable amount of emotional and mental energy, not to mention the physical stuff.

Today marks the beginning of week four of the Higdon Marathon training program for “Novice 2.”

http://www.halhigdon.com/training/51138/Marathon-Novice-2-Training-Program

Until this past week I was woefully behind, thanks in part to Oklahoma weather. I’ll happily run in the cold, just not on ice.

.

But now I am super happy to report that those missed runs are all caught up, and (if I am allowed to count a handful of miles from elliptical workouts) I have officially clocked 54.3 miles since December 30th. Close enough for now. More exciting to me, though, is that my endurance is up significantly. I have discovered that my biggest personal obstacle is not ability but boredom.

I discovered this by mistake.

Opportunity knocked last week and I answered the call to run through downtown city streets, alone, wild. I ran through gaggles of business people and dog walkers, around city buses and speeding cars, through traffic lights and up and down concrete staircases. I began to regard those digital crosswalk countdowns as tiny race challenges. Can I make this intersection in 9 seconds? 4? 2?

It all felt amazing, like childhood, running free and silly, untethered and unmapped. I had no plan or route in mind; just a good swift pace, incredible music, and the craving to deplete my muscles and energy.

Well, it worked! For three days straight I went on 5-6 mile runs without getting bored, without quitting after a certain number of exhaustive oblong laps around the back field, and without falling further behind on my Hal Higdon plan.

So this is going to become part of my personal formula, adding to a few other things I’ve learned through trial and error:

• Run early in the day, and celebrate the chilly mornings!
• Run on an empty stomach (coffee is ok)…
• but while really well hydrated.
• Keep a notebook handy for post-run idea scampering, because good runs always produce good ideas.
• Eat more protein than breads, etc.
• Eat fruits AFTER running, not before.
• Find ways to bust up the monotony so you will choose to run longer.

Are you training for anything right now? Would you agree that most of the training is for your mind or your willpower, rather than your body? I do. I believe we can do things physically that would shock us, but our limited thinking keeps us tethered. 

This coming week, Hal Higdon asks us to run a total of 23 miles plus an hour of cross training. I’m excited! It should be a happy, idea-rich week indeed!

Think big! Think fast, think happy. Think good things into your life and act on them.

Happy Running!

XOXOXOXO

No more fear. This year, faith is taking center stage.

I have finally learned, internalized really, that the two are exclusive opposites of each other and that I cannot feed my fears while claiming to have faith.

I certainly cannot enjoy the blessings and fruits of a faith tree well tended while chopping at its base with the blunt edge of worry.

I cannot wring my hands and squeeze my eyebrows together in pursuit of those terrible “what ifs” while smiling wildly and raising my arms in praise of the answers and celebration of grace already given.

This flip side relationships between the two is so obvious to me now, it’s a wonder that all these years previous have yielded me any answers or any peace at all. Because fear and worrying have come so naturally to me. But they can be trained out.

Were you here at the digital W when I had that slightly mystical Worry Door experience? It was August 2012. And it was intense. 

http://lazywmarie.com/closing-the-door-to-worry/ This was the original post. A vivid sight and powerful message for me.

Well, that door has crept opened and been slammed shut too many times since then, and it all has been a beautiful learning curve for me, one for which I am so grateful. The times over these past seventeen months or so that  I have succumbed to that weird temptation to peek behind the Worry Door and examine the shadows, pet the darkness and soak in the ick, have yielded me confusion, bitterness, a sense of defeat and exhaustion, and plain inactivity. I have been easily paralyzed in my beautiful life just by gazing at what I thought I should be worrying about. Big things by the way, important things. Things of the heart and building blocks to life and well-being. Still, I knew better. Worry is not the answer.

On the other hand, miraculously, those times over these past seventeen months or so that I have consciously turned away from the Worry Door and rejected fear, have yielded incredible peace and joy. More than emotions, though, my life has seen very real changes when I have acted on faith instead of acting on fear. God responds to our faith expressed, and He wants us to trust Him with everything. Have no fear. He invites us to enjoy confidence, deep in our bellies and bones, that He hears every whispered prayer and every groaning, and He loves us and is able to help.

How will my days be different without fear?

• More reaching out to loved ones, especially my girls, without fear of rejection or confrontation.
• Interesting, life affirming new experiences without fear of looking silly or failing. (I went for several city runs this past week, a brand new experience for me, and it was amazing! That first one was fearful, but I am SO GLAD I got past that! LOL)
• Deeper involvement with our church without fear of not fitting in or disagreeing.
• A renewed effort with beekeeping and horse training without fear, once again, of failure.
• A calmer, more relaxed marriage without fear of Handsome finding someone else more… everything.
• Finishing a written work, like a novel, without fear of criticism or forgettability.
• Running a marathon without fear of running a marathon.

And so many other things are possible, too. Maybe this sounds like a broken record to those of you who have been reading along with me these past couple of years; but clearly it’s a lesson aimed straight at my heart:

Do Not Be Afraid

Marinate in Love so deeply that you ooze it. Receive your promises and act on faith. Be confident and steady, not fearful. When you recognize that you are torn between the two, choose wisely and start celebrating the answers ahead of time!

What might be different in your life if you abandoned fear? What possibilities would be unlocked?

You block your dream when you allow your fear to grow bigger than your faith.
~Mary Manin Morrissey

XOXOXOXO

I am linking up this week with some of my favorite bloggers

to share our “un-words” of 2014.

My un-word is fear.

Check out the other pieces written by Edie, Darlene, and more!

Hello again, and happy Mama Kat Thursday! I’m once again linking up with this fun group of people, today in response to Kat’s wondering… What are five of my favorite things?

I like things. I have plenty of them, and I have a pretty particular taste with most stuff. But I honestly had a hard time getting excited about things I could tell you to go buy. I’d much rather tell you about things worth enjoying. Cool?

1. Waking up (almost) every day with Handsome. He is my husband, my best friend, my fierce protector, and my constant provider. He makes me feel the best of all feelings and challenges and inspires me too. He drums up cravings to show strong, active love, something much deeper than sheer romance or companionability. Waking up next to this man and starting our days together… Then reuniting (almost) every night and blending our limbs and our hearts… These are precious gifts to me. Also, it’s been a lot of fun lately to hear which new iPhone alarm sound he chooses for startling  us out of our deep slumber. The A-Team theme song has recently given way to a dolphin’s eeeee-eeeee-eeeee-eeeee!!! Soothing. Soothing is what it is.

2. Nourishment. Perfect coffee early each morning and so much healthy, decadent, wonderful food every day, every week. Only occasionally do I partake of coffeehouse indulgence, but I am today. The rest of the time this girl is frighteningly good at brewing cheap coffee at home and dressing it just so to taste like a $4 cup. Yum. And the blessing of being so well fed the rest of each day is far from lost on me. My favorite eats lately are kale, oranges, eggs, anything with salsa or avocados, mushrooms, roasted garlicky chicken, ceviche, and any kind of oily pasta. Ok aaaaannnd… I am so hungry.

3. Hearing from my daughters. Any little snippet about them or especially from them infuses my day as with essential oils. This special contact is healing to me, perfuming, invigorating. Just plain wonderful. My heart is confident in them and in each of their futures. I know beyond any earthly fear that God has been with them all along and that He always will be. I’m also making changes in the Apartment because I feel some farm visits coming soon… This, friends, is a truly precious gift, this deep maternal knowledge. My girls are such beautiful, fascinating, gifted young women… I am abundantly grateful and hopeful.

4. Running. I’ve stepped up my marathon training just a tad, which is to say that I am almost on track now, haha! I’ll get there and will write more of a Hal Higdon update later; but in the short term, making running a part of my daily routine four to five times per week has been one of the best life changes I have ever made. My husband would certainly agree, because at the very least I am in a fantastically better mood on the days I run long.

5. Late winter garden daydreams. Oh the lusty, intoxicating, full-self stimulating business of imagining and planning next season’s gardens. I have been enjoying this gardner’s private ritual for years and get more serious and more carefree about it every single January. Right now I’m deep in the belly of the beast. When I emerge with something worth sharing you’ll know. Because I’ll be shouting it from the rooftops.

So these are five of my favorite things about life, lately. Of course my list of passions and blessings is at least a thousand times as long, but as always there are other things to do besides write.  And Kat only asked for five. These five are the shining, throbbing hallmarks of my days lately.

Do you share any of these with me? What are your top five faves?

If you’re stopping in from Mama Kat, welcome! I would love you to stay a while. Please consider adding to our little chain story from earlier this week. http://lazywmarie.com/lets-build-a-chain-story/

To my other friends, pop over to her blog and check out some of the other fun entries!  http://www.mamakatslosinit.com/blog/

Y’all have an amazing Thursday. Count your blessings, big and small. Actively enjoy them, or they are wasted. Smile big and silly. Life is good.

XOXOXOXO