Lazy W Marie

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

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thriving (not just surviving) all winter

Oklahoma is deep in the throes of another cold, dry winter. Lots of places have it much worse, and ours might not last much longer, but for now? For now we are freezing our southern-midwestern toes off, okay?

Most of us stumble around, bundled up in layers, sipping hot drinks, muttering to each other in low, vibrating voices the details of our coldness. Checking for weather updates is already a secondary hobby for most Okies; in wintertime, it’s all about wind chill and how close we are to freezing.

We become obsessed with our suffering.

And some of us are coping better than others. 

Klaus going for a stick fetch on our frozen pond. He seeks fun no matter the weather!

I found this article on Bon Appetit’s new “Healthyish” website and loved all of their suggestions. They list nine strategies used by people in the coldest parts of the world, where the arctic air lingers much longer than a couple of months. The list includes tips for diet and exercise, skin care, and more. Lots of applicable wisdom. But in Oklahoma, outdoor recreation is a bit limited because we lack the mountain hikes and the snow silliness. And smoked fish is not a diet staple here, though I suppose it could be.

Anyway. What I’m saying is that winter here is unique. Here are some of the healthy rituals we have been cultivating at the W. Enjoy!

Seven Easy Strategies for Thriving all Winter Long:

  • “Eat More Plants, Do More Yoga!” This mantra has guided me since the holidays ended, and already I feel much better. My internal belly feels softer (in a good way) yet toned, my joints feel spacious and comfortable, I think my posture is improving, and my legs and feet are staying happy for running. Yes to a diet based mostly on plants, both raw and lightly cooked! Lots of soups and crazy salads and roasted things happening here. And yes to yoga every single day! If you need some direction there, allow me to suggest the “True” series by Adriene. It is luscious. She is so fun and smart. We love her. 
Klaus is an excellent yoga partner.
Add olive oil and roasted veggies to literally everything.
Perfect sugar-free oats! One chopped apple, a few tablespoons of chopped nuts, & cinnamon. Microwave it all together with milk.
I spiralized one yellow squash & chopped some mushrooms, sauteed all of that, and added a couple of eggs as it cooked. Easy & delicious!
  • Be Flexible but Stubborn About Exercise. I’m in marathon training right now, so running keeps me moving almost every day. But my treadmill finally gave up the ghost, so on days when the temps or windchill are well below freezing, I am happy to do other things to stay active. And occasionally some intense layering means Klaus and I can go outside for some raking and compost work in the garden, which is a wonderful way to catch some sunshine. Also, every day no matter the weather, yoga. It makes such a difference!

 

  • General TLC. Thicker body lotions, face oil plus moisturizer containing collagen, and vitamins including iron, D, and magnesium (thanks, Kellie!) have all been helping a lot. Also drinking chamomile tea at bedtime usually guarantees a deep sleep. Otherwise winter is a dry and weary time, wow.

 

  • Cozy Atmosphere. The hygge trend is a good one. It kind of speaks to my natural leanings, anyway. Loading up the house with live plants, dozens of strands of white twinkle lights, throw pillows, and extra thick blankets… kind of a no-brainer. We aren’t really candle people anymore, but I have been using essential oils like cinnamon and orange plus one called “Ananda” for cozy, mildly sweet fragrance. And staying on top of dusting and mopping is a must since we are indoors so much more.

 

  • Read and Write. Actual books and actual pen and paper are slowing me down in wonderful ways. I’ve resurrected a journal and daily gratitude practice and am making my way through a Bible devotional, plus trying to stay focused on good novels even when the seed catalogs pull my attention, ha!
My paperwhites are all “Can’t stop, won’t stop!”
  • Games! We have been breaking out the Yahtzee, Uno, Phase 10, and regular playing cards in the evenings. Like old people, sure. But like happy old people who are glad to have a warm home with games to play and television to watch in the background. Gradually I’ve been setting aside my electronics, too, and it is really nice. Speaking of television, are we the only people craving more comedies this season? Maybe because life is pretty dramatic on its own, but we need things to make us LOL. 

 

  • Carpe Diem. We watch those weather details (things change hourly) and get outside in the sun every single chance we get. It’s good, even when it’s cold. And when it’s truly unsafe, then we take the opportunity to really hunker down indoors and fully enjoy the hibernation. Before long we’ll be outside all day and late into the evening. Enjoy whatever details make today special!
In Estes Park last November, before life changed in so many ways. We stayed in a cabin that opened to the river, rushing through snow and ice. Gorgeous!

Truly the underlying theme here is attitude, right? And focus? As always, just frame your circumstances in a way that aims you in the direction you want to go. Nourish each other. Stay cozy inside and out. And remember that winter is only a season. Before long we will be watching green sprout everywhere again, wondering how we could ever give up hope.

“If winter comes, can spring be far behind?”
~Percy Bysshe Shelley
XOXOXOXO

P.S. please continue praying for our Girl.
God is listening. Miracles are happening.
We remain grateful and hopeful,
but we all still need prayer.
Thank you, friends!
xoxoxoxo

senses inventory, quiet windy january afternoon

Have you started writing senses inventories with me yet? I love the practice. It’s soothing in the moment and interesting to read again later, long after you might have forgotten the big parts of your day, much less the smallest details.

And January is a great time to start writing your senses inventories, too, because as I look around, so many people are pursuing a version of mindfulness and want to be more present in the moment. One of the best ways to achieve that is to really sink into the many precise details that comprise your life, your months and days and hours and minutes. Float down into it all, press everything into your skin, absorb it into your memory, and write it all down for later.

Journaling doesn’t always have to have a profound scheme. Sometimes all you need is a true and vivid snapshot.

We write to tatse life twice, in the moment and in retrospect. ~Anais Nin

Okay. Here is a senses inventory I took this afternoon. I spent 9 minutes scribbling it down. In those nine minutes my breath slowed, my thoughts drifted a bit more peacefully and I gained a sort of objectiveness about my day. Like I was an observer. Because that’s exactly what I was. And reading back over it kind of made me want to know more about the scene, as if it hinted at a good story.

Wednesday, January 10, 2018, 3:56-4:05 p.m.

See: Eyeglasses on the dining room table which should be on my face. Porcelain bowl half filled with apples in three different colors. A large clean pickle jar wrapped in black and white fabric and filled with fragrant pine and cedar branches. A chilled pothos beyond that. A thrift store disco ball and twinkle lights in the corner. Afternoon sunlight changing rapidly, the streaks of slate blue and gray, gold and silver, shifting and backlighting the oak trees in our south lawn.

Hear: Wind howling. Pacino clicking seeds and murmuring to himself, dipping his beak in water. Klaus sighing and moaning. Another fire truck in the distance.

Smell: Apples. Hay dust. Pine and cedar. Dried sweat from my tank top and running jacket.

Taste: Granola from an hour ago, sweet well water, hay dust, plain chapstick.

Touch: My calves are a bit tight but comfortable, feet happy to be in only socks after a long day in shoes. Puffy winter coat hugging me nicely, especially the stiff straight collar around my neck. The wooden crossbar of my tall chair pressing hard up into the arch of my right foot. Left leg falling asleep and tingly from being crossed too long. Hangnail on my right index finger.

Think: So many house fires this week. Is she warm enough, safe? What has she eaten today? Is Klaus sighing and moaning from contentment or boredom, or maybe exhaustion? How are Bridget and Bubbins? Do they remember us, do they miss us, are they hungry? What do my running friends think of so many beginners joining the ranks? Should I register for that spring race now, or wait a bit longer?  Is it selfish to continue blogging?

Feel: Phantom feeling like I can hug her, and she hugs me back, wearing this coat. Deep sadness that it’s in my imagination only. So thankful, though, for the endless stream of blessings and encouragements. I am so proud of my husband. I hope my sister loves her quilt. Some reconnections lately have healed my heart. Feeling so aware of the gifts of home and health, closeness to God, and hope. Just so humbling. Encouraging.

Okay, that’s it!

Quick side story: That photo above is of my view now, as I type this. The Easter lily is cold and weary and aching for springtime. The two paintings stacked on the far wall of the kitchen are recent creations by my husband. Whether he actually meant for me to keep them is a mystery (he gifts most of his fun artwork to friends), but I loved them so much he would have had an awkward time prying them away, haha!

Anyway. Happy Wednesday! And best wishes with your mindfulness and soaking in of all the luscious details of your life. I am pretty convinced that this practice helps with things we can scarcely imagine or articulate.

Check in soon for a roundup of new recipe ideas and favorite podcasts, a running update, and why I am okay with not being in church right now.

Thanks for your prayers, too! They mean the world to us.

Party on, (Bruce) Wayne!
Party on, Darth (Vader)!
XOXOXOXO

 

post holiday thoughts gumbo

After so many days and weeks filled to bursting with activity, work, play, some bitter tears, and still more activity, my mind is swimming with loose trains of thought. Some things are solid. But those are solid enough to wait. The less solid thoughts need somewhere to go. I hope you’ll indulge me a while so I can sort of gather them into a boiling pot. Maybe if they comingle and simmer you add your own thoughts, we will end up with a gumbo of good stuff and the final product will be delicious.

Oprah’s Super Soul Sundays podcast has become my favorite. This is a surprise to me because I have never liked her, generally speaking. Just because the talk show thing has never been my thing. But this is different. This production offers tons of reliably good, nourishing material. One recently that I loved? An interview with former President Jimmy Carter. I loved hearing him talk about space in marriage, daily habits, and the Iran hostages. Weird combo maybe, but he ties it all together. Plus that well worn, gentlemanly southern drawl, ok? So nice.

Have you ever seen the acronym expression of EGO, meaning, “Edging God out?” Yikes.

I have for years thought that life is made worse by over-romanticizing relationships. Which is ironic, because the intention behind romancing stuff is to bring out the beauty, enhance it, press the details more deeply into our skin, right? Shouldn’t that improve life? But placing too much importance on certain relationships kind of sets us up for disappointment, that whole “appreciation trumps expectations” thing.

Maybe especially with parent-child bonds? because (as a better writer than me recently pointed out) claiming your child as yours is incredibly self-centered. Disturbingly ego-driven. And yet isn’t it’s part of our nature, the parenting paradigm? This is a lot of ground to cover, friends. Too much for today, but I welcome your thoughts.

I cannot get enough Christmas lights this year. And happily, our surrounding neighborhoods and parks have obliged. My husband did a great job festooning our own spot of paradise, too. It’s a modern luxury I won’t soon abandon.

I want to do a true study on the occurrence of eating disorders and body image issues among two groups: dancers and runners. I have noticed a disparity, but it’s so far anecdotal and I wonder if (as a runner) my opinion is slanted. Thoughts? Insight?

Made from scratch soft pretzels are incredibly easy and supremely delicious. Pillowy, warm, salty, chewy, satisfying. Amazing. Using this recipe, I am a homemade-soft-pretzel convert. No more waiting for that once a year $8 movie theater splurge! Of course, now I have to figure out the concession stand’s weird runny cheese sauce, but until then some yellow mustard will keep me happy.

Two brand new seed catalogs have arrived at the farm, and my youngest daughter has asked for both cooking and edible gardening lessons this year, so you can safely assume that my imagination is in overdrive. On that note, I am pretty happy about how last year’s compost system is working. So well, you guys. I’m looking forward to having time in January to continue filling, rotating, and spreading the fertile stuff.

Marathon training has started! I barely ran at all in November, for good reasons; and December has been low mileage (128 so far) but consistent. For the next 18 weeks, I’ll be following the Hansons’ Advanced Marathon Plan, aiming for the OKC full in late April. Very exciting! My local running friends have been a huge support and are full of wisdom, most of them Boston qualifiers. This past year I’ve changed my approach to running in lots of ways, so if that’s interesting to you, please check in here on Mondays starting mid-January. Marathon Monday returns!

I crave salad every day, probably my body’s way of saying, “Enough chocolate-toffee-shortbread, ma’am,” but it’s so cold in Oklahoma. Can you microwave salad? Maybe I should make more soup.

Ann Voskamp can probably do no wrong in my eyes, which clearly means I am on the verge of putting her on a pedestal, which clearly means I should take a breather before reading another of her books. Right? Just kidding. I already started it. A generous gift from a wonderful local writer. I think she wants to be anonymous. Maybe she doesn’t want to be known as my Voskamp enabler.

Enabling is not funny, though. We have had some excruciating decisions laid before us this year. This month. Just yesterday, in fact. It’s ongoing and very real. But prayer keeps up afloat even when we are at our weakest, emboldened on good days, clear-headed and hopeful.

“Welcome to Costo, I love you.” haha We don’t even have Costo in Oklahoma, but this is super funny. We do have Aldi.

Roasted veggies! Duh. When it’s too cold for salad and soup takes too long. Roasted veggies.

And this tea:

If you have 2 hours to snuggle up and feed your brain and imagination, I highly recommend the Netflix documentary called Cuba and the Cameraman. This is a cultural and anthropological indulgence, not a political statement. Pinky promise. Then, if you want to binge watch something beefier, please consider the related Netflix series on the revolutionary history of Cuba, which reaches all the way back to when European explorers “settled” there. Fascinating! Maybe a touch political.

My friend Kellie knitted me the thickest, most luxurious grey infinity scarf. I am smitten and get so many compliments on it. Thank you, Kellie!! Also, she recently agreed to a carrot cake cookoff. I’ll keep you posted. I hope to be in the mood for sweets again by February or March, haha.

Did you have a magical and peaceful Christmas weekend? I sure hope so. Christmas is meant to be magical and peaceful and more. It’s okay to enjoy all of it, every big and little thing.

We thank you for your love and prayers. I am trying to figure out what’s wrong with my blog dashboard, keeping me from responding to comments. But every single word you send is deeply appreciated. Truly.

“There are two types of beings in this Universe.
Those who dance, and those who do not.”
~Guardians of the Galaxy
XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

 

 

counting it all joy

If during this recent life chapter, the message I have most received is “Witness Me,” then the message my husband has most received is “Count it All Joy.” He started noticing a stream of such reminders over a week ago, and although that divine conversation has been his and it’s really his story to tell, I want to share some thoughts with you guys. It’s almost Christmas, after all, a season for seeking and sharing both comfort and joy.

Joy on bright days and joy on dark days.

Joy when it’s easy to be joyful and joy when it takes all of your strength and concentration.

Joy when it’s natural and joy when it’s a deliberate choice.

Chalk stuff up to joy, even the pain.

Count all the joys. Number them. Make an inventory of joys, big and small.

And when your joy falters, recharge it. Re-joy yourself. Rejoice. 

Of course, I recall the Joy Dare by Ann Voskamp in One Thousand Gifts. That act of listing all the things you can articulate that bring you joy until you reach a thousand. I did that a few years and filled several notebooks (way more than 1,000 entries) with handwritten phrases and sentences. The activity has a way of building momentum, sparking a gentle heat at first then flames and then a roaring fire. Lots of good, warm power.

Speaking of good writing by Voskamp, I have been sneaking downstairs early most mornings to read in the quiet her book of Advent devotionals titled The Greatest Gift. Every bit of it is just wonderful, but look at this, from the December 19th pages:

Struggling and rejoicing are not two chronological steps, one following the other, but two concurrent movements, one fluid with the other. As the cold can move you deeper toward the fire, struggling can move you deeper toward God, who warms you with joy. Struggling can deepen joy.

Isn’t that beautiful? Struggling can deepen joy. And the whole notion that the two are (or can be) concurrent… It releases my guilt for having struggled in the first place.

Just a few paragraphs later, she writes:

The secret of joy is always a matter of focus: a resolute focusing on the Father, not on the fears. All fear is but the notion that God’s love ends.

Oh man, you guys. All fear is but the notion that God’s love ends. It never ends, we know that. So nothing in life is outside of His reach. I can’t help but think of The Shack and that grieving dad’s need for the Father’s comfort, and how endless that Love proved to be. And I can’t help but notice the tweak in language here, from my own anthems about “positive thinking,” etcetera… I talk and write a lot about choosing joy and deliberately focusing on the positives in life, which is fine, but this heats it up a bit. This reminds me that there is more to it than just being positive; there is the Father, always and forever. Maybe I meant that in my heart all along, but maybe I should have been saying so too.

We can either count our problems or count our joys. We can let ourselves feel overwhelmed by either, too. I’d much rather be overwhelmed by joy. It gives me the strength to deal with real problems, and it helps the phantom worries disappear.

Fear is always this wild flee ahead.

Another quote from the same Advent devotional. This wild flee ahead. Like imaginations that have run wild. That ugly broken record of what ifs. My husband’s grandmother once said of a worried family member, “She’s just borrowing grief from the future.” As if grieving ahead of time will somehow lessen the pain? It doesn’t.

Handsome has taken some hard-earned time off from the Commish, just in time for Christmas. With our family’s recent trauma, we could easily have surrendered to heartbreak and neglected all the joy available to us. But that message reverberates: Count it all Joy. So we give each other a pep talk now and then, and we cry sometimes, but day to day we are clinging to healthy routines. Looking for the good stuff, which by the way is abundant. We first tiptoed into Christmas; now we have relaxed and sunk in.

((can you spot Tigger on the tree?))
xoxoxo

Counting it all joy and surrendering, instead of to heartbreak, to mercy and Love and all the miracle-working power that Christmas actually, truly, always brings, when we allow it.

Merry Christmas weekend, friends! I will check in again soon. I really want to talk more about how to actively count the hard stuff as joy. Until then, everyone from the Lazy W wishes you lots of warmth and Love, some surprises big enough to be called miracles, and ample time to count your joys. It matters.

“The answer to deep anxiety
is the deep adoration of God.”
~Ann Voskamp
XOXOXOXO

 

 

“Witness Me”

Witness Me.

This message has been swimming gently in and out of my vision for over a month, eventually coming into sharp focus, now glowing and pulsing at me like a neon sign.

Witness Me.

The first time it appeared was on November 7th when we had made that first red-flag trip to Colorado. I happened to glimpse it on her refrigerator, scrawled in dry erase marker in her neat, unmistakable handwriting. I think it was blue ink. I didn’t ask her about it then but it struck me. No context at all, not even punctuation. Just, witness me

I wondered if it was song lyrics, or was it a hint at her own heart? That day I knew she was hurting and thought I understood, thought I could help. I did feel a storm building but had no idea how big it would be.

The following week is when all hell broke loose. We had come back to Oklahoma briefly and returned to Estes Park again, this time in a panic. She was in crisis and we found ourselves in a torrent of new information, one heartbreaking revelation after another. Those ten days felt like months, and we lived every hour on high alert and in fervent prayer.

One of the patterns that emerged then was the rhythm of our constant prayers. It was like untangling delicate thread as quickly as possible, to sort through all of our emotions and to cope with all of the shock and constantly changing details. We did a lot of talking to God, you know? A lot of crying straight out to Him. And in those ongoing conversations, my husband and I found ourselves just sort of describing what had happened, as if God didn’t know. Describing everything in audible voices, like desperate, emotional sportscasters, all the terrible things and all our fears, but also all of the incredible things God had done that day or in some particular situation. It buoyed us, fueled our “big asks,” which were numerous. And when we needed to remember, we called out so many of the miracles He had performed for our family over the years. Specific things. Big things! Unlikely things. It all just poured out of our bellies naturally, and often we could barely keep up with the stream of words.

Witness me.

After several days we began to see more and more that God was taking control. That sounds great, of course, what could be better? Except for how it feels at the beginning when He pries it out of your hands and as parents, you begin to panic. It feels like your child is being taken from your grasp, and truly it takes a while to realize there is no better place for her to be than in His hands.

The accompanying message was unmistakable:

Witness Me. Watch and see what I’m gonna do for her! I can do more than you could ever dream of doing for her yourself!

Friends, I still get chills thinking about that, the first time this washed through my thoughts and my body. Humbling, but encouraging. Thrilling.

Around this time Handsome and I both were coping with a growing hatred for the mountains. We woke up in a different hotel room every few days, staying as close to her as we could. Every morning after a broken sleep we saw these incredible panoramic views. We breathed in the strange cold air and just hated everything, every detail that we might normally have relished. It’s hard to hold affection for a place that tries to kill your child.

But God corrected us.

One morning, in particular, He showed me the sky and the mountain range in Colorado Springs and asked (not gently), “Do you remember Who made them?”

The sky broke apart in golds and silvers. Enormous shadows and frothy clouds slid down the slope of Pike’s Peak and it all hit me at once, so much sorrow and shame for my misguided anger. All my fear for her, an ocean of uncertainty, repentance for doubting God. I could not stop crying, right there in the breakfast room of a La Quinta, holding a Styrofoam cup of bad coffee.

Witness Me.

cell phone snapshots will never do justice to the views

 

Witness Me.

It would be almost two weeks later, back at the farm again, wrestling with a brand new ugly reality and still reeling from her most recent departure, when the message appeared in much more than a whisper. I was rounding the dining room table, navigating Klaus and his fetching energy, having just done morning chores. One warm fresh egg was in the pocket of my quilted vest. No doubt I was in active worrying mode, trying to muscle my way into positive thinking. Sometimes that’s easier than others, you know?

And suddenly, Klaus at my feet and that single warm egg in my bare hand, in my pocket, those same two words slammed into view, this time into my actual ocular view, in neon:

WITNESS ME!

Kind of startling. But in seconds all of my anxiety dissolved.

I stopped and said, “Okay,” and just started listing the things God had done that day. Then I went back to the day before. Then the day before that. And the energy built. I listed mundane stuff, because it matters too, but mostly I let my heart settle on the amazing answers He had been sending us, resolution like a wide, rushing river. Twists of circumstance and provision you would hardly believe!

Then He made me look directly at the worst of it all, every horrible fear, made me stare right at it, and held me the whole time, whispering again, saying, “Witness me, not the darkness.”

This is not the first time in life we have been warned against worshipping problems. Remember the Worry Door? And I haven’t even shared the sermon we heard the month after 9/11. God so clearly wants us to trust Him.

Okay. I had planned to actually list every single thing God has done for us this month, right here in this blog post; but that will have to be a separate effort. We do have a notebook full of memories from this ordeal, and we continue to add to it daily. It’s an ongoing drama but also an unfolding love story. God is so good and strong and generous. Despite all the grief, He is moving and answering. Mending our lives in unprecedented ways. Opening and strengthening our hearts and our relationships.

If you have been praying for us, for her, know that it is working. And thank you so much!

If you need prayer, know that it will work. There’s just no maybe about it. God is more powerful than your problem. He is more capable than you are to handle it. He might guide you to act for a while then remove it all from your grasp, but that’s okay.

Witness Him.

Notice the things He does for you. Keeo your eyes fixed on Him, focused on the light, not the darkness. When the darkness seems to swallow you, close your eyes and remember Him from before. Bring that light back into focus.

Witness Him to yourself privately and to each other intimately, to the world around you. See His works for how beautiful they really are. Help each other cling to hope.

I am so sure, deep in my bones, that all of this matters a great deal.

Thanks for reading, friends. As always there is more to say. But I needed to share that much with you while it was available to me.

I hope you have a great Thursday and that whatever you are facing, you find a moment to witness Love in action. Let it take over your mind!

“Call unto me, and I will answer thee,
and show thee great and mighty things
which thou knowest not.”
~Jeremiah 33:3
XOXOXOXO