Lazy W Marie

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

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worries melting like snowflakes

This morning Handsome and I crept outside for a later-than-usual Hot Tub Summit. The air was cold and gray, the sky already quilted white and releasing a slow, reluctant curtain of snowflakes. We soaked up both the cold and the heat and unbraided ourselves from sleep. With nowhere to go today and a blessedly short list of duties, we had a really easy time staying relaxed. Oklahoma weather teams have been preparing us all week for a snowfall today, maybe an inch. And while we never fully trust the forecast, we did get a little excited. If not for the cold (Handsome belongs only on the beach), then certainly for the unwritten excuse to hibernate. We are happily immersed in season two of Dexter right now. Plus, so much romance… We have lots of ways to pass the time.

While we were sitting in the steaming froth I watched several fat, lazy snowflakes flirt in circles in the cold air around us. They melted easily, even before touching our skin. The steam probably dissolved them. I closed my eyes and took a silent inventory of all the little dagger-shaped worries that have bothered me this week. So many small, panicky moments, so many sudden fears piercing my happiness. Mostly what-if thoughts about my children.

Phantom worries that never came to fruition.

I am so lucky to be nourished by crystal-clear scripture, good literature, the best of friends, and more than my fair share of Love. Basically, grace. Loads and loads of grace. Had those dagger-shaped thoughts landed on a cold heart they might have stuck. They might have pierced me through and drained me of all my life. But instead, they fell over and over again on a warm, healthy place. They melted before they really touched me.

I have nothing against the snow. It’s beautiful and muffled and rare. It is infinitely more pleasurable that ice, after all, so when we get a blanket of the magical stuff I don’t mind celebrating it. I especially don’t mind hibernating with my handsome husband.

In the hours since this morning’s hot tub magic, we have received much more than the single inch the weather folks predicted. The farm is heavily snowed under, thick piles of it everywhere. But the message is still clear to me: Tiny worries melt quickly in the heat of faith and Love. They can pile up too, if we let them.

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Please forgive my mixed metaphors, friends.

More importantly, feed your faith. Nourish you heart and keep it warm. Stay healthy and receptive to the best of things. It helps you resist worry. It helps you stay whole.

Signing off to count my blessings and go watch a baby llama play in the snow.

Thank you for stopping in, friends.
Much love and many melted snowflakes to you.
XOXOXOXO

Senses Inventory: Friday of Possibility

   By 9:07 this morning I had finished my strongest run of the past week, 
started a big load of laundry, fed the animals, 
and fought off no fewer than six moments of deep despair 
over things beyond my control. 
Walking back outside with my last cup of perfect coffee,
I noticed the sky was different. 
I remembered a recent love letter from my husband. 
And I saw the day ahead of me as a clean canvas. 
Giddy over this complicated spark of energy 
cupped in my hands like that fated Baby Bumblebee 
that is always getting carried home to someone’s mommy, 
I sat down to take this inventory.

Seeing:  Metallic gold and silver clouds filtering the brilliant sun in the east and low, dark purple clouds sheathing the sky in the south and west. More pools of shade on the ground than I have seen here in weeks. A giant red wasp hanging the air above the water sprinkler, which is providing a wet playground for our five geese and occasionally a few of the chickens. Shimmering wet grass beneath all of this activity. Big trees waving their leafy arms at the new day. Four leggeds calmly finishing their breakfast.
Hearing:  The chit-chit-chit and then the giggling spray of the helicopter water sprinkler, the authoritative drone of the pool pump and too-loud suction noise of the filter there. Chickens clucking, geese whining, and guineas doing their necessary battle over property and sex. (They can’t live with each other; they can’t live without each other.) Locusts filling in the gaps between all of these sounds, a constant humming backdrop that feels meditative today, not desolate.
Smelling:  Sunblock. Sweet, sharp horse manure. Something full of pollen in the flower bed behind me. And dirt. I love being able to smell bare dirt. It smells clean, which is funny.
Tasting:  Salty sweat when I lick my lips and the last long swallow of sweet coffee, cold now because I have let it sit on this patio table too long while I soak up my surroundings. But it’s still delicious, and I can chew on the grounds that have fallen to the bottom of my cup.
Touching:  Breeze! An almost cool breeze, refreshing and light, not like the furnace blast we are so used to feeling these past few weeks. I still feel heat on my bare skin, but it’s comfortable at this early hour, still that pleasant summer heat that makes me want to invite all of our friends over to cook steaks and watch the fireflies come to life. The kind of pleasant summertime heat that makes me glad for bikinis and chlorine, watermelon and sweet iced tea. I also feel the rough plastic of my sunglasses’ arms behind my ears, where I have probably held them carelessly between my teeth. And I feel the excellent plush lawn chair cushion holding me firmly in this moment.
Thinking:  About the power of positivity, of gathering together your strengths rather than all the time searching out and magnifying your weaknesses (and those of others). Thinking of the gardens, of how many weeks might be left before the beautiful transition to autumn veggies and fruit orchard work. Thinking of my Mom and what it was like for her when I left home. Thinking of how much I have in life versus how much I give or produce.
Feeling:  Relief to have spent time with my girls yesterday, to see them so healthy and vibrant. I hope they are as happy on the inside as they appear to be on the outside, and I hope they know the truth of things despite some ugliness surrounding them. I hope they don’t mind resembling me so much, as sometimes teen aged girls hate to look like their Moms. Feeling worry for my sister and her children, confidence in my husband, excitement over a new writing project, and an overarching, belly trembling hope for our immediate future. I feel happier and more stable than I have in a long time.
Here at this farm we are not without problems, confusion, grief, or failure..
But we are so flooded with help and miracles!
We are steeped in natural beauty that reminds me of this grand design.
We are given morning after morning to start fresh, to enjoy the small rituals all over again, 
to try once more to not only get things right but also to build things up.
We are surrounded by good, strong, smart people who despite our failings… love us.
And together we keep circling this dream and this root of love 
that is worth everything.

Wishing You a Perfectly Love Filled, Miraculous Weekend!
Take a Minute to Notice Your Beautiful, Unique Life.
xoxoxo

Self Sufficient (Small Stone January 18th)

   This morning was cold. Beautiful, yes, but definitely colder than the deliciously warm days we’ve enjoyed all month. The pond wore a thin skin of ice even where the sun could reach.  The grass was crunchy with frost. And all the animals were heaving out plumes of steamy breath as they patrolled the farm. One of my jobs this morning was to make sure everyone could find fresh water to drink throughout the day.
   I did that and some other things and was quietly distributing piles of hay for the four-leggeds and tearing off bits of stale bread for the birds when I heard it. A loud, crushing sound and then a splash behind me. Chunk-hi had hammered his great, square chin and then his massive horns against the ice in his trough, releasing the loose water beneath it.

   “Oh I’m sorry, little buddy, I totally forgot about your trough!”

   “That’s okay, Mom. I got this.” His long beard was dripping with water, his horns shiny and steaming. Long black eyelashes blinking calmly at me.

   He can’t really talk, you guys. He’s a buffalo. But we understand each other just fine.

Thursday Potential (Small Stone January 12th)

   After what might have been the deepest, most solid sleep I have enjoyed in weeks, maybe months, I sit here on Thursday morning facing a long, solitary day that pulses with incredible possibility. It is thrilling.
   Snow covers the ground, not deep and fluffy, but crusted and bitterly cold, probably something closer to ice. Yet the sun is bright, loud in his brightness, defiant of the single digit temperatures. I feel grateful to not have to drive anywhere today, fortunate that my place in this world is a cozy one, a safe, happy, meaningful one. 
   Over the next eight or nine hours, what improvements can I make in our little corner of the world? What reaching out can be done? How much can I strengthen our foundations and adorn our dreams?
   Choosing how to funnel my abundant energy is often my biggest daily challenge, and today is no exception. but today it is a motivation, not a burden. Today the possibilities are potential.
   I cannot help but wonder how much of this feeling has to do with my hair being freshly washed and blown dry.