Lazy W Marie

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

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“We are a Team!”

For many families, the timing of Pandemic could not have been worse; but for Trisha and her husband Brad, and their two perfect little ones, it came both when they could handle it and when they could use it to galvanize their union. I so enjoyed talking to her, hearing how she navigated the rough waters and came out plenty wet and shaken but definitely stronger. Enjoy!

In mid-February, 2020, Trisha Whitley was already “married to the news” to stay apprised of political happenings, when reports of the novel corona virus began filtering in. She understood it then as mostly a problem in China and remembers having unsettling feelings for that population, thinking compassionately, “…they’re gonna be in masks again.”

Gradually, she noticed the infection reports moving from China to Italy, to the United Kingdom, then to New York, and finally to Seattle. She just hadn’t imagined the virus would land here, in the United States.

Together with her husband Brad and their two young children, Avery and Scout, Trisha spent the first weekend in March, 2020, enjoying normal family activities. They attended an outdoor birthday party, explored an antique sale at the old Crossroads Mall, watched the skies for spring weather, and more. Right after that, everything changed. At their daughter Avery’s preschool parent-teacher conference, the teacher hinted about something big coming, maybe big changes for the school. The virus had hit Oklahoma, and shut downs were imminent.

Brad and Trisha stood face to face in their colorful, open floor plan kitchen and had a quiet, serious discussion about what to do next. Trisha’s maternal instincts were to “feed and protect the kids” and keep everything “as normal as possible.” Brad agreed. The Whitleys’ marital operating standard is always absolute teamwork, and the bizarre stressors of pandemic, even at this early stage, only served to reinforce that dynamic.

Their first order of business was shopping. Brad found a painter’s N-95 mask in his workshop, which Trisha wore to a nearby Crest grocery store to buy necessities. She remembers sitting in her car before entering, her petite body shaking as she fought a swelling wave of anxiety. Less than a quarter of the people inside were wearing masks, and it was crowded in a way she had never seen before. Chaotic. A long line of people wrapped around the entire width and back length of the store, waiting to check out. She turned one corner to walk down the soup aisle and let out “an audible laugh-cry” at the sight of an empty shelf where the ramen noodles should have been. She knew that people nearby heard her emotional response. The gaping vacancy in the middle of a place of such normal abundance was more than just startling; it scared her. That store still had milk available, but it was being rationed.

Then she began to notice unkindness between strangers instead of the usual neighborly, Oklahoma behavior. People were actually showing hatred toward the elderly in the crowd, and the overall vibe inside the store was something she had never felt before. She gathered the food and bottled water she needed for her family and got home as quickly as possible.

As that surreal shopping experience sunk into her bones, Trisha felt disappointed in herself for not stopping to help strangers, especially the elderly; but at the same time she was unapologetic for being laser focused on a mission to provide for her own children. As she and I would discuss in so many ways during this long conversation, “Kids change everything.” Also, this was the beginning of a long, strenuous tug of war in her tender heart, between concern for others’ needs and that deep, immovable parental love. She described herself as being “divided in half, talking in my head a lot so as to not freak out in front of the kids, and keeping the kids happy and fed.”

Once extra food and water were acquired (they already had plenty of TP, which was good because the store was already sold out by then), the Whitleys settled in for an especially home-centered Spring Break. Brad had already planned to be home with the family for their week away from preschool (a tradition they started when Avery was born). They counted this as a blessing and dovetailed the family time into him working remote for several months, past when many of his colleagues returned to their offices downtown. Protecting each other and their children from exposure to the virus was paramount, and together they found myriad ways to thrive at home.

In fact, thriving and teamwork were their guideposts. Having Avery and Scout to protect and provide for made everything scarier, more intense; but having them to love and entertain also made it both easier and more necessary to focus on the moment. Trisha loves being a Mom and discovered more and more ways to feed their joy daily.

A word about the timing of life: The Whitleys moved to their rural property in 2018 and built their dream home. They put down roots easily, and their sweet, young family of four began to breathe deeply. They spread out and luxuriated into the spaciousness and freedom of country life, just about a year and a half before pandemic gained momentum. This particular blessing is not lost on them. Trisha reflected on how natural it was for the kids to be outside, in their familiar setting, just enjoying their life in every season and in all weather. They aren’t missing much, as young as they are. The extra classes out in the world, like swimming and music, can resume in time. Brad and Trisha feel good on the land, too, sometimes chatting with neighbors from a safe distance, once hosting an outdoor family gathering, but mostly appreciating the space and safety of “home base.”

I asked for details about their daily life in pandemic. I know Trisha to be a great home cook, so I was excited to hear what her stress snack was (I was secretly rooting for tortilla chips because she makes a killer hot salsa). She answered honestly, “Marie, you know what? It was wine. We drank stress wine.” Haha! Beyond that, she actually talked about survival food, not stress food. I was confused. She explained:

For a stretch of time early in pandemic, thoughts of sheer survival and the possibility of being holed up at home for an extended period of time had them thinking of eating more efficiently, less decadently (wine notwithstanding). They settled on a food that was shelf stable and hit big energy needs in a small dose: Taquitos. I kid you not. She bought a huge box of them. The kids ate normal, balanced, kid-friendly meals including frozen vegetables, but Brad and Trisha got in touch with their true survivor warrior selves by subsisting for a while on Taquitos, cans of albacore tuna, and Kraft macaroni and cheese. This strategy eliminated worries over what fresh produce may or may not have been available at the store, and it eliminated unnecessary trips to the store, too. I love it.

Trisha and Brad’s pandemic survival food strategy might sound unconventional, but it’s a great reminder that when it comes to food, flexibility can be a lifesaver. And as much as they relied on simple, long-lasting snacks like Taquitos and tuna, wine still found its place in their routine—particularly during moments when they just needed to unwind. There was something deeply comforting about cracking open a bottle at the end of a long day of uncertainty. In fact, they quickly learned the joys of exploring new wine options online, discovering the ease of having their favorites delivered right to their door. WineOnline.ca became a reliable go-to for their wine needs, providing them with an endless selection of bottles to suit any mood or occasion. When your grocery trips are limited and you’re just trying to get through another day of isolation, having access to quality wine without leaving home became a small luxury they could appreciate.

She also took advantage of offerings from the Oklahoma City restaurant Whiskey Cake. During shut downs, they marketed a clever survival kit which consisted of eggs, cheese, butter, milk, steak, chicken, and bread. Trisha called it “a lifesaver!”

Daily life with a preschooler and her younger brother was full and fun. I could tell Trisha loved diving in and making the most of this unusual chapter, treating it like a true accepting gratefully the gift of extra time with her children at a tender age. And she had lots to say about distance learning, declaring with maternal authority that “Pre-K does not need six hours of instruction/” But she does acknowledge that they thrive on flexible routine, so she crafted a beautiful one, taking cues from the instructors Avery had loved at swimming, music, and other fun classes.

During the distance learning months, their morning started with breakfast and some kind of movement. That was usually followed by a learning activity Trisha had planned, then some reading aloud, and Avery’s virtual class for the day. Then they either played outside or logged onto an online “Cosmic Kids” yoga class and finished the day by Noon. This left plenty of time for them to simply be a young family. It also helped them feel steady and kept the kids on enough of a rhythm to be ready for school once it started again. “As normal as possible” was another of her good and useful mantras.

Parental entertainment was boiled down to great television like Ozark, You, and Schitt’s Creek. She also read more books this past year than ever before, something that makes her proud. She highly recommends This is How It Always Is. Sometimes, after the kids were asleep, Brad and Trisha would steal outside and burn pinion wood in their chimenea for a quiet date night alone.

Trisha gushed so sweetly about her husband and how proud and thankful she has felt all year, that he stepped readily into the role of “ultimate protector.” She said so many times, in the midst of a variety of beautiful stories, “He has been my rock.” And she described how the stress and necessity of pandemic living just reinforced everything they were already doing. They discuss everything together, work deliberately as a team, and support each other no matter what comes their way. They share parenting duties and allow for the ebb and flow of energy. I loved hearing that the collaboration was natural and healthy for them, but I was not surprised. My husband and I have been lucky to call them friends for several years now, and we and feel the strength of their union glowing off of them, like a safe, steady heat. Unquenchable.

Relating to loved ones in the outside world was a lot more complicated than maintaining a good environment at home, no matter how careful everyone tried to be. Brad and Trisha’s determination to maintain social distance invited some quiet conflict with extended family, and it made for some complex holiday and special event choices. From Thanksgiving to birthdays and even Trisha’s youngest sister’s wedding, the decision to attend or decline was never taken lightly. She shared with me that although they did find ways to participate in her sister’s wedding, she is still to this day worried that she “wasn’t there for her one hundred percent.”

In July, Brad’s much loved and young cousin Scott died tragically (unrelated to covid). Brad and Trisha were devastated to not travel to attend the funeral and grieve with family. That is something covid took that cannot be replaced.

Throughout our conversation, Trisha revealed a depth of love for everyone in her very full life. The residual conflict obviously still makes her ache. But she is steadfast in the choices they have made to keep their family unit safe and healthy.

We talked more about the booming infection rates and the fluctuating social dynamics this past long year. All spring, the Whitleys’ efforts to stay safe paid off. Trisha even admits to feeling a bit of pride for having avoided the virus. Then summertime hit, and covid spread rampantly through her extended family. One person after another contracted it, including her parents who very much and understandably wanted to be around their grandchildren, her brother in law who is a small town firefighter and works in unavoidably close contact with others, also both of her sisters, one of whom is a school teacher and the other who was pregnant at the time (both she and the baby are ok). It was a long, tense, scary summer; but thankfully nobody’s symptoms were bad enough to require hospitalization. Some of the family still has lingering side effects, but overall they are doing well and counting their blessings.

In broader social circles and society at large, Trisha watched the spreading darkness and hate speech, the oiliness of fear and hatred seeping everywhere. She wonders, looking both back and forward, about misinformation and poor leadership, the misconceptions we might have about herd immunity, and what is next for our country. We talked about some of this but did not discover any magic answers. It’s all more of that ever present weight and worry. “How could we have done better?” she said, “Have we learned our lesson?” Excellent questions.

Brad and Trisha decided early on to not fill their kids with fear of the virus but just instill a healthy respect for germs and teach them to avoid hugging others. They watched kid-geared educational videos on germs. Convincing other people to avoid hugging their kids was the hard part. (Those two are scrumptious!) Also, their household chose to refer to covid as “the Germ” in a casual, matter of fact way, so as to not create a huge looming covid monster in the world. It is just a germ to avoid, that’s all.

The winter holiday season was extraordinarily difficult for her extended family. Thanksgiving is especially sacred to everyone, and celebrating apart from each other was hard. “Life is so fragile,” Trisha said sadly. And I know she meant not just the flesh and blood of bodily life but also the spirit of bonds and relationships. At the end of the day, though, mortality was the foremost concern. Trading special gatherings for health and safety made for one excruciating choice after another. The guilt of isolating themselves is still heavy.

When the
vaccine was first approved, Trisha was among the earliest offered her first
dose, thanks to her up to date license to practice as a dental hygienist. She battled
more guilt and inner conflict about accepting the vaccine when so many others
needed it, but eventually she relented and today is fully vaccinated. To be
clear, her hesitation was never about trusting the medicine itself; she knew
the technology existed to thoroughly and safely green light the vaccine. She
has full trust in the scientific process and the community that keeps it
moving. Trisha spoke with awe and reverence, saying, “I find it humbling,”
about the work being done behind closed doors, to keep the world safe. “Those
people love their job so much!”

Still, as much as the story of vaccines is one of hope, it is also a reminder of the complexity surrounding medical progress. Rare complications can and do arise, and while they do not diminish the overwhelming benefits of immunization, they require honest discussion and support for those affected. This is where compassion and accountability must intersect, because someone facing an unexpected outcome may feel overwhelmed by both the physical toll and the bureaucratic process that follows. Having a trusted vaccine injury attorney can make a profound difference in ensuring those individuals are not left to navigate their struggles alone. It is a balance between celebrating the lifesaving impact of vaccines while also acknowledging the human stories that unfold when medicine, in rare instances, takes an unintended course. Both truths can exist together, bound by the same respect for health, safety, and justice.

Both kids are back to school now, and Brad is back at the office. They all continue to take precautions but also live life fully on their land. One of the best gifts pandemic has afforded Trisha has been extra time to research her own gardening methods, and she is elbow deep in top soil, wildflower seeds, and young peppers, painting gorgeous murals, and making memories with her babies.

Sweet Scout turns four this April. His doting parents are gently brainstorming a way to celebrate with loved ones, maybe something outdoors at a safe distance. Surely they will make the right call. After a year of so many weighty decisions and so much navigating of complex people dynamics and health concerns, the Whitleys’ rock solid teamwork will no doubt rise to the occasion. (I just wonder if they will serve wine and Taquitos.)

“Dig deep in your heart and find love,” my beautiful friend pleads with the world, “Use that.”

XOXOXOXO

she is full of freedom

On March 6, 2020, Kellie Sperry went with friends Roanne and Rose to the Lauren Daigle concert in Oklahoma City (it turned out to be the second to last live concert Daigle performed before shut down). The night was filled with inspiration, emotional release, and some much needed connection to God and faith and peace. That next week was when the Thunder basketball game emptied out before tipoff and everything changed overnight.

A licensed counselor by trade, Kellie’s already heavy job was about to take on brand new weight. Add to that, the traumatic ending of her marriage of almost 25 years, and everything was in flux.”Flux is the story of my life,” she claimed peacefully.

To borrow her metaphor: When a person’s life is turned upside down and all the contents tumble out of so many boxes all over the floor, it is messy. Decades’ worth of memories, habits, effort, fear, values, hopes and dreams, loves and hurts, plans and mistakes and victories and so many other things, are strewn about in unpredictable, sometimes startling new shapes and piles. Some forgotten things are exposed to the light of day in new ways. Some things are beaten and crumpled a bit more than others, maybe shattered beyond repair; some things need to be either purged forever or dusted off , polished, and quickly put back in order. Many things can wait while the storms rage. Flux.

Kellie’s past year has been like this and then some, but she is flourishing in all the colorful chaos, despite the added layer of pandemic storms that roar all around her. Forty-five years old, newly divorced and living alone for the first time in her life, rebuilding friendships on her own terms, helping clients navigate an unprecedented time in history, she is centered in Love. She is looking honestly at the overturned boxes of her life and feeling a delicious calm, no trace of panic for all the mess, in fact, some excitement for her sense of autonomy.

 “So far I’ve landed upright, and that’s all that matters. And everything else will be where I place it.” When she said where I place it, I got chills. It reminded me of the power, the responsibility, of deliberate living.

So many people are in flux.

Without a doubt, this past
year has taken a toll on people’s mental health. Groups and individuals of
every variety, everywhere, have been pushed to new thresholds and challenged in
ever compounding ways. Historically, this pandemic may even surpass the OKC
bombing and the 9/11 attacks, due to its global scale, sustained force, and ongoing
traumas. “This is unprecedented,” she said, more than once. And for
the first time in her career, counselors were walking their patients through
trauma that, largely, they themselves were also facing. “Both of us are
coping with the same stressors,” she said, a weirdly unique situation.

The pandemic has made it clear that mental health isn’t just about what happens in therapy sessions—it’s about the daily rituals, the self-care practices, and the holistic approaches that help people regain balance in a world that often feels unsteady. For many, this means turning to alternative therapies that complement traditional mental health treatments, providing an additional layer of healing and resilience.

One such approach gaining attention is acupuncture. Rooted in ancient Chinese medicine, acupuncture has long been used to address physical ailments, but its benefits for mental health are just as profound. By targeting specific points in the body, acupuncture helps regulate the nervous system, reduce stress hormones, and promote relaxation—something desperately needed in a time of heightened anxiety.

Those searching for acupuncture near me are often looking for relief from chronic stress, insomnia, and even depression, seeking a way to quiet the mental noise that has only grown louder over the past year. As people explore new methods of self-care, acupuncture offers a gentle yet effective way to restore equilibrium, helping individuals find moments of peace amid the ongoing uncertainties of modern life.

Her group practice made the switch to Telehealth (remote counseling
sessions) around March 24th. This of course brought its own inherent challenges, but overall Kellie describes it as, “an extraordinarily rewarding and more intimate” setting. She misses the intimacy of sharing physical space with and reading body language and energy from her clients; but that has been traded for glimpses into their homes, quick appearances from pets and toddlers and partners, not to mention her own physical safety and comfort in her newly feathered, solo nest. It is all “complicated, beautiful, challenging, and rewarding.”

However, the move to Telehealth does raise questions for those interested in starting their own mental health practice. For anyone wondering how do i start a mental health business, the shift to virtual services has created both opportunities and challenges. Starting a mental health business today requires an understanding of the technology involved, how to maintain client confidentiality in an online space, and how to build a strong rapport without in-person interaction. With the right tools and approach, though, Telehealth can offer a unique way to connect with clients while ensuring their safety and comfort, both physically and emotionally.

How wonderful that our society is changing its outlook on mental health! How wonderful that more of us are seeking therapy in proactive ways, without the old stigmas, as an integral part of our human experience.

This year, of course, many people are seeking help to cope directly with, well, all of 2020, including but certainly not limited to the virus itself. Kellie and her colleagues have seen a dramatic uptick in anxiety disorders and trauma responses. People have been stirred up by the political divide and social unrest. There is just a lot to process, and most people’s mental health has fluctuated wildly all year long. All of that is normal. In fact, Kellie hopes we can normalize talking about our feelings more, acknowledging them, and seeking to understand each other better. “I am okay, even though…” is a phrasing exercise she shared with me. She even bravely suggested that we face all our fears and express gratitude for what we discover in the pit, when we land there sometimes. Because we don’t stay there, and we can learn from it.

That kind of honest emotional inventory—“I am okay, even though…”—is more than just a coping mechanism; it’s a gentle reminder that strength and struggle can coexist. Anxiety doesn’t need a dramatic reason to show up. Sometimes it’s loud, sometimes it hums quietly beneath the surface, but it’s always real. And for many, the rollercoaster of recent years has magnified its presence, bringing suppressed emotions to the forefront.

Therapy becomes essential in these moments, not just as a crisis intervention, but as a form of self-respect. And with online counselling becoming more widely available, support is now more accessible than ever. It means people can connect with professionals from the safety and comfort of their own space—whether that’s during a lunch break, after the kids are asleep, or in the middle of a sleepless night.

This ease of access matters, because when anxiety feels overwhelming, even getting out the door can be too much. Online platforms remove that barrier, giving more people the chance to process, heal, and grow—without needing to wait for the perfect moment. Healing, after all, often begins in the mess, not the miracle.

Besides counseling, what can people do to improve their mental and emotional well being?

Kellie advocates strongly for physical activity, not just for the obvious bodily rewards but also for “how it impacts mental health.” I asked her how much we need, and she answered swiftly, “As much as you can get.” She mentioned again the widespread prevalence this year of anxiety, depression, grief, and trauma; and she affirmed that moving your body can help with all of those ailments. Her own regimen has been a steady dose of walking every day (in the sun as often as possible) and attending Orange Theory. “OT Fitness is a gift,” she said blissfully. The gyms were closed for several months, of course, but now she is attending classes three or four times per week and loves it. She loves it for the endorphins and the muscle conditioning, and she loves it for how it helps her release pent up emotion. She also values the community there, all of which contribute to her overall well being.

She and I commiserated on other basic human needs like drinking lots of water, practicing good nutrition, seeking sunshine in all kinds of ways, and feeding true human connections. Connection is a big one, kind of a headline this year. “Go deep or go home,” she said, smiling and shrugging. The value of deep interpersonal connection is huge. We all have felt its absence then enjoyed its happy return, maybe this past year more than ever. Cultivate it in your life.

Kellie also urges everyone to consider what self care looks like, specifically to you. Be honest with yourself, test your instincts and hone them over time, then go ahead and tend to your needs. It’s ok. Maybe learn about the characteristics of introverts, extroverts, and ambiverts. The best self care you provide “will come from a place of truly knowing yourself” and “noticing the moment, being truly present in it.”

I wanted to hear some details about Kellie’s personal pandemic memories. Her favorite stress snacks were miniature chocolate-peanut butter cups from Trader Joe’s. Yes, she always had more than enough toilet paper. Yes, she started a new hobby, gardening, though that is an example of how pandemic woke her from what she called “sleep walking.” She had been craving to start a garden for years, but a brief inkling of food scarcity in the grocery stores plus an abundance of time at home finally prompted her to just start. Yes, her first garden was beautiful and rewarding, and she plans to continue! Yes, she did plenty of baking, but more batches of cookies than loaves of bread, as she is still getting acquainted with the unfamiliar counter space in her new home. Did her view of essential work evolve over this past year? “I love the UPS drivers. I want to say thank you so much for working!”

And yes, she too is weary. She is weary of missing people, of missing community. Pandemic woke her up to many values, perhaps chief of which is that of defaulting to “Love my neighbor.” She has struggled with how some Christians resist masks and assert their beliefs in unloving, selfish ways.

Kellie is more intentional these days and is working to squash some people pleasing tendencies, choosing instead to listen to her gut and live authentically as much as possible. This has been empowering, and she does not bemoan the process. “Pain makes us grow,” she observed.  

Kellie is in such a wondrous stage of metamorphosis, I wanted to capture the moment while anticipating what might come next. I asked her for a message she would give to her future self. She took a deep, calming breath then said, “Be present. Listen. Have fun. Chase sunshine! And Love your neighbors.”

Amen, my beautiful friend.

“I am full of freedom.”
~Kellie, November 2019
XOXOXOXO

pandemic honeymoon

Please meet two of the warmest, steadiest, most fun and truly loving people in Oklahoma, Tom and Raylene Harrison. They are parents to one of our best friends Meredith, grandparents to my little garden buddy Maddie, and regulars at the annual Lazy W Talent Shows, among other events. They were kind enough last week to share their pandemic memories and insights with me, and I am so thankful. Enjoy!

Before the novel corona virus arrived in Oklahoma, Tom Harrison was “not at all” aware of it. His wife Raylene had caught a report about it on the CBS morning news but was not worried. They were busy about their lives, volunteering in the community, working in their small church, and loving their big, beautiful, multi-generational family. In early March, 2020, the Harrisons remember doing things like enjoying a Saint Patrick’s Day-themed Bunco party and attending a Master Gardeners’ board meeting in Oklahoma City. Their daughter Renee and her husband John had just celebrated their wedding anniversary. These would be the last normal feeling events in the Harrisons’ life that year.

Together with seven other devoted people, the Harrisons lead the First Christian Church of OKC, which is housed at the locally famous “egg church” on northwest 36th street and connected to the Jewel Box Theater. They boast a small congregation centered on serious, joyful love and unqualified acceptance. “We like quality over quantity,” Tom quipped cheerfully. And I believe him.

Their Sunday morning service on March 15, 2020, is when things began to seem different. The threat of the virus felt real, so they reluctantly announced that morning that it would be their last church gathering for a while. They quickly reorganized to accommodate the roughly 50 members with phone contact, mail outs, and online service. Tom and three of his colleagues continued working at the church office for a while, getting everything set up.

With church plans tucked in and underway, the Harrisons turned their attention to quarantine preparedness at home and to caring for Raylene’s then 93 year old mother (she turned 94 this recent January). At her adult daughters’ urging, Raylene began shopping for groceries exclusively online, disinfecting all surfaces, and avoiding public gatherings. As the limited science filtered in about covid-19, their biggest mission became clear: Keep Mom safe and healthy. She lives near them, in her own home, and is thankfully healthy and vibrant. They were determined to keep it that way.

I was entranced listening to Raylene share her own Mom’s memories of the polio scare when Raylene was a toddler. She reports that they faced “antivaxxers” then too, and that yes, even then, without the internet, the masses found ways to politicize public health. The social divide was very real. She herself had no vaccine hesitation, no fear then or now. “We’ll get through this, we’ll persevere,” she assured Raylene, who in turn assured me.

I was curious how pandemic affected their day to day life, how their eating habits changed, how they spent their free time, how they communicated. They indulged all my curiosities and then some.

As for their quarantine diet, Tom nodded slowly as he announced rather matter of factly and without a trace of regret that they have made “very little effort to be wise.” His dryness about it all actually made me laugh, whether it was meant to or not, ha! He said they enjoyed lots of mashed potatoes and gravy, biscuits and gravy, and plenty of their favorite homemade desserts. Comfort food, though, not stress snacks, because there is a difference. Though Raylene did not herself join the sourdough craze, a friend of hers kept their house full of fresh baked bread, and in June they received a porch delivery of homemade cinnamon rolls. So, yes, they ate really well.  

Tom and Raylene have always been avid restaurant goers and are movie buffs, favoring actual brick and mortar cinemas in normal times. This year they have missed eating at places like The Red Cup (on north Classen, a really nice little vegan coffee shop!) and an Italian spot on Paseo called Picasso’s. In fact, Picasso’s might be their first restaurant visit when everything feels safe again. They have only been to a movie theater twice this year: Once to see Tenet (Tom neither liked it nor got it) and once with their grandson to see Croods 2 (more on that later).

Thankfully, though once Tom was briefly exposed to the wife of a positive-testing congregation member, both of the Harrisons remained healthy and covid-free all year, as did Raylene’s Mom. During the incubation period for Tom’s possible infection, Raylene spent fourteen days at her Mom’s house and cared for her there. They couldn’t risk both of them being sick at once. She also stayed with her Mom for nine days during the blizzard.

Their physical health only suffered a little, with regard to stamina and very minor weight gain (same here). But gardening season always helps (yep). Raylene loves to stay active and predicts big improvements to her vitality this spring and summer.  In addition to this, Tom was honest about his mental health, admitting that it went backwards for a time, wondering aloud if maybe he enjoyed being alone a little too much (again, me too!). “There is a sense of relief from obligations,” he said, “but that can lead to too much isolation.”

Both the Harrisons are civic minded and generous to a fault, so I have no doubt that when they are ready, their calendars will fill up again. But how much, and how fast? Raylene said gently, “We want to have some control” and that they will “enjoy doing what is not a burden.” (Gosh this is a great reminder for me.)

They absolutely managed to adapt, choosing to have fun and see all their new challenges as opportunities. Normally Tom is responsible for one sermon per month at their church. During shut downs and remote worship services, he employed all kinds of graphics, music, and other technological wonders to spice up his messages. He rarely showed his face but had lots of fun being creative and engaging members who might not normally feel comfortable with online church. He used old music recordings, too, and to date the community has not missed a single Sunday service. They may even continue some of their multimedia efforts after they return to traditional gatherings.

For such a tightly knit family, centered around Choctaw and Shawnee, how did the Harrison clan stay connected all year? Well, they just did their best. They worked to “meet them where they are” as Raylene described it, which is also their approach at church.

They missed each other dearly and especially missed out on connecting with the grandkids. But they made efforts to talk on the phone more, use social media, and be creative as the months wore on and the changes and challenges persisted.

In June, Tom and Raylene opened their gorgeous backyard for a masked, well distanced family gathering, sans food or drink. They all just needed to see each other. It was the only such gathering all year, and Raylene shared that she cried after everyone left.

Then in August, 2020, when Oklahoma was baking beneath the summer sun, indifferent to the pandemic, and everyone was exhausted from, well, everything, Raylene was inspired to try something new. Her brother Jerry was in hospice care for stage four cancer, and the pain of not being able to see him was enormous for everyone, especially for their matriarch, who had been safely quarantined all year. Raylene consulted with Tom and her sister to plan a trip to Branson. They announced the idea to Mom, who needed little convincing. The heartbreak of not being with Jerry was somewhat lessened by a deliberate choice to be together in a safe way, and in a new environment for just a few days. It was less a vacation than a family retreat, a few days of grieving and safe harbor, together. They felt “blessed to be together.” Jerry passed away on September 1st.

For Thanksgiving, everyone ate at their respective homes, then they hosted a family game night on Zoom. The next month their nine year old grandson chose to quarantine himself for two weeks in order to safely visit his grandparents for three days at Christmas. To make it special, the trio found the movie Croods 2 playing in OKC. They were the only people in the theater, and they had a blast!

Tom and Raylene have been married for 32 years. I was really excited about our Zoom conversation, eager to listen to their stories and glean how this bizarre time in history might have affected such a well established couple. First, a few observations from me: They never interrupted or over spoke each other. Sitting shoulder to shoulder, they glanced and smiled at each other almost constantly. They told the same stories, together in harmony, without exactly finishing each other’s sentences. I heard lots of sweet “yeps” and “vice-versas” from Tom and saw many slow, gentle nods from Raylene, both of them smiling.

I finally asked them directly how pandemic affected their marriage. I loved that they were both willing to explore that. They agreed that they are both good listeners by nature, which made an unusually quiet year seem extra quiet. But? They didn’t necessarily see that as a bad thing. They seemed to enjoy the opportunity to talk more with just each other, to make even better connections. They agreed to feeling closer to each other now than they did one year ago, which they  both found reassuring. (Note to young couples: Even after 32 years you can grow closer and discover new depth in your union. You can also still need these things more than you realize.)

Like Tom, Raylene confessed to liking the massive shed of obligations. They had been keeping pretty hectic schedules prior to shut downs, even deep into retirement, volunteering and staying active in the community. To fill their new wealth of free time, they did a handful of fun home improvement projects. They de-cluttered everywhere. They relocated their dining table and chairs to a more spacious room. They painted one half of the rooms in their house, added a custom wooden beam mantelpiece to  their fireplace, and continued doting on Raylene’s extensive indoor garden, which miraculously survived our insane winter.

They nested! They had a little pandemic honeymoon, and they nested.

Also? How delightful to learn that these smart, community minded, deeply loving, spiritually alert people were not above some indulgent television watching during pandemic. The shows they remembered easily were The Crown, The Queen’s Gambit, and Cobra Kai. Lots of Netflix, but no bingey repeats, which is a detail that sets them apart.

Talking to Raylene, I felt like I benefitted from a secondhand conversation with her 94 year old mother, too. She has a warm steadiness about her, a pragmatic spirit which she has imparted to her entire family (her granddaughter Meredith is one of my best friends so I am an expert in this matter). She seems to understand that energy is something you can choose spend, so why waste it on things you cannot control? She (and, accordingly, Tom & Raylene) teaches an appreciation for quality of life. How beautiful that she also is enjoying longevity.

Today, the Harrison clan is healthy and almost fully vaccinated. Going forward, they expect to be more of aware of infectious diseases in general. They are open to wearing masks in some situations, too. No surprise to me that Tom and Raylene managed to unearth humor and love in this exceptional year. They left me with simple advice: “We’re all in this together. You don’t have to say everything you think. Just think about your audience, who you’re saying it to.”

There’s room for everyone at the table. Walk in love. And go ahead and have something with gravy.

“We’re all in this together.”
XOXOXOXO

shelby, tender & immovable

Welcome to the first of many Covid Pandemic Interviews! I am so happy to introduce my sister in law’s sister, my brother’s sister in law, and my friend, Shelby. I know you will love her and be in awe of her story.

Before the Storm:

In December 2019, Shelby and her husband Mark returned to live in their home state of Oklahoma after a short chapter on the east coast. They were drawn home by family, numerous small town Oklahoma festivals, and the superior Tex Mex food culture here (amen). An experienced cardiac step-down nurse, Shelby began work in one of Oklahoma’s largest hospitals on January 6th, 2020. She worked in the Intensive Care Unit, unaware that within weeks she and her team would be at the eye of the storm.

By early February, 2020, Shelby had heard of the novel corona virus but not experienced it firsthand. Testing was expensive, scarce, and mostly being done for patients who had recently been overseas.

The last normal feeling thing Shelby remembers doing was eating at Ted’s Escondido, enjoying one of those much anticipated Tex Mex dinners she just couldn’t find on the east coast. Soon after, cases in Oklahoma started to rise and the hospitals filled up with very sick people. On an otherwise normal Monday at work, in early March 2020, she said everything felt different. She and her team were assembled and instructed to wear both surgical and N-95 masks at all times, a behavior which suggested that they themselves might be contagious. This seized her attention. The fear of spreading the virus from hospital patients to loved ones at home was forefront, so Shelby immediately chose to self-isolate, spending more than a month sleeping in the living room, separated from Mark and keeping her hospital clothes apart from his, just in case.

Ground Zero:

Shelby worked at a hospital where patients from around the state were transferred, when smaller hospitals could not treat them. She described their atmosphere as one of extreme caution, since the virus was so new and so many questions were being raised every day. “The science was unfolding before our eyes,” she said, and they were “learning as they go.” Before long, they were at 110% capacity, with 38% of those patients very sick with Covid-19. People were dying horrible deaths, PPE was being conserved, and the doctors and nurses were scrambling to learn enough to effectively battle the new enemy. The hospital was overrun and understaffed, and growing more so as lucrative travel team jobs lured nurses away to even harder hit states. Shelby chose to stay, both to be near her family and because she already felt invested in her team and mission.

Prior to the covid-19 pandemic, Shelby was a nurse in the cardiac step down unit and was happy there. But her initiation into ICU just a few weeks before such an exceptional time in history seems almost predestined. In the midst of so many horrors and so much uncertainty, she found deep purpose in caring for the extremely sick and called it “an honor” to hold the hands of so many who would not survive the virus. She and her teammates at the hospital, her “work soul mates” as she affectionately called them, made sure no one ever died alone. Shelby was among the nurses we have seen on television who used Zoom and iPads on wheels to help loved ones say goodbye.

One of the difficult realities of the hospital being so overrun was that chaplains on staff could not often see dying patients. For this reason, Shelby and her team were frequently tasked with providing more than medical care. She was put in a unique position to minister to people in their final hours and moments. She always asked, “Would you like me to pray?” And, she said, they always accepted. No patient ever told her no.

For those patients who recovered, left the ICU, and were eventually discharged, Shelby and her team celebrated. She said it was a victory they shared together, because they all cared so deeply for the people entrusted to them. They loved and prayed for everyone.

While acknowledging that ICU burnout is prevalent and a real concern, she does not foresee a career change anytime soon, and not only because covid numbers are finally improving. The environment of deeply caring for one or two patients seems to fit her personality. She finds herself thinking about them all the time, praying for them, becoming invested in their stories. Shelby is unabashed about her faith, too. She said, “He gets me, He sees me,” and credits God and prayer for helping her do the needed work and thrive in such a hard year.

Connection, Self Care & the Vaccine:

The horror stories ramped up, and Oklahoma’s infection rate swelled again and again as we approached first summer then winter. Long, exhausting hours at work were balanced with tentative, masked, outdoor visits with her parents and sometimes with her sister and nephews, who were visiting Oklahoma before moving overseas. This warm, gregarious, affectionate family had a hard time not hugging. They sufficed with small patio gatherings and lots of extra phone calls. She said it was so hard to “pump the brakes” when spending time with them, difficult to resist the urge to hold or comfort a toddler, to comfort each other. But seeing what she saw every day at work, it was ultimately an easy choice.

Self isolation took many forms, and Shelby always kept her parents’ health and safety in focus. She stepped in to do the grocery shopping for them, eliminating the temptation to eat in restaurants. She and Mark found a rhythm with their safety protocols at home and also learned a new love language which told him when she might need to cuddle after work and when she might need to be alone with her feelings. Or with a pizza. Besides pizza, Shelby’s pandemic stress snack of choice was Triscuits with pimiento cheese dip, particularly the ones with either smoked gouda or jalapenos.

Socializing simply could not happen. All their hopes and plans to reunite with Oklahoma friends have been tabled this past year, and they watched as one by one the small town festivals were cancelled.

Neither Shelby nor her husband Mark, nor their adult daughter Boston, who is a restaurant manager in Ada and faced constant exposure and a complicated, ever shifting work life, nor Shelby’s parents, ever contracted the virus. It’s easy to imagine how thankful they all are to have survived the year without serious illness or worse.

There was a long stretch last year when, though physically healthy, Shelby found it difficult to concentrate long enough to read books (a common phenomenon in pandemic, I am learning). Instead, she listened to audio books, favoring mysteries and gothic romances for an escape. Shelby also rewatched the Hobbit series and binged The Office with Mark, although they had seen it before.

We talked about mental health and the cultivation of peace in the midst of such fear and chaos. Shelby used the word “curate” to describe how she took control of her online life. She unfollowed political accounts and people whose posts were too disruptive to her peace of mind then filled that void with Facebook groups about her genuine interests, like stained glass art, gardening, and cathedrals. She chose to nourish herself in gentle, deliberate ways. “A lot of us spend a lot of time in our heads,” she observed wisely. This already smart, glowing woman seemed to have learned that furnishing her mind with beautiful things would keep her sane and centered. “Find the joy where you can,” she told me. (Again I say amen!)

We spoke at length about the vaccine, about how she felt when it was first announced, and about her experience.  Having to work a full shift the first day the vaccine was available to her, she got in line and was vaccinated as soon as possible on day two. Shelby called the feeling “indescribable” and admitted to crying.  “Is this it? Is this the end of things?” she thought, and, “finally we’re going to get a leg up.” Her voice broke at this, and I got that giggly, warm, weepy feeling just listening to her recount the memory. The relief was palpable.

She also told me a story about a colleague, a long time male nurse who was videoed receiving his vaccination. Normally a stoic guy, unemotional and gruff though experienced as a first responder in a wide array of tragedies and historic medical events over the decades, this man wept as he received his shot. He broke down in front of his friends and colleagues and offered them this intimate assurance, his blessing to weep and be moved: “They don’t know what we’ve seen.”

Reflecting on the Year & Looking Forward:

I asked Shelby what she wishes people would do differently, given her perspective. How does she believe society could have handled this better? Her answer was chilling and not what I expected. She said gently and firmly that everyone should have a living will. We should leave instructions for our loved ones that clearly state our wishes for the end of life. She saw many patients whose conditions declined so rapidly toward “medical futility” that, on the worst days of their lives, families did not know what to do. They faced impossible, tormenting decisions because the patients could not speak for themselves, and they often had to make these decisions without being able to see their loved ones. Establishing a living will in healthy times is a gift to your family later.

I asked Shelby whether the pandemic has changed her. First she announced that it certainly opened her up to the power of hand washing, ha! And she described all the reasons why our new normal might include wearing a mask for air travel or to minimize cold and flu season. In fact, she talked about mask wearing overall, about how it has been such a small concession for people to make, just kind of shaking her head at the resistance some groups showed.

Shelby also joked about how our Oklahoma-bred tornado preparedness might have to mature into something broader, to serve as a buffer against future mass crises. Regarding Doomsday Preppers? “Nobody’s laughing now!” We chuckled at that but only for a moment.

She also expressed with some gravity that “the pandemic was eye opening on so many levels, we were all so unprepared.” And she expressed her hope that “smart people are preparing for this to happen again.”  She considers herself “cautious to a fault” now and, as with her faith, makes no apologies.

Shelby’s spirit seems to be not just unharmed but perhaps bolstered. Despite all the trauma, uncertainty, pain, isolation, and heart-wrenching work of the past year, all of it unplanned and unprecedented, she presses into the belief that “Life is resilient.” When I heard her speak those words on the phone last week, I felt it. Now, when I just think of her saying those words, it feels like a quilt made of very old, beautiful velvet and denim, soft and strong and reliable. A trustworthy fact that will keep us warm. Life is resilient.

Shelby and I spoke on the evening of  March 4, 2021, nearly one full year after she began wearing two masks at work and started her voluntary self isolation in her living room. Oklahoma numbers are down now and falling steadily every week. Vaccinations, amazingly, are gaining traction statewide. And she and her family remain safe and healthy. All gifts for which to be wildly thankful.

I know that all of us who watched the news all year and witnessed as best we could the love being poured out through nurses and doctors want to give Shelby the biggest hug right now. We want her, and her work family, to feel all of our appreciation. We want their deep reservoirs of compassion and fortitude to be replenished in abundance, for their own happiness and well being as well as for whatever is coming next. We need them to be whole and well nourished.

One of the final sentences Shelby offered me was just what I needed to hear, just what we all need to hear sometimes: “I knew life could be hard, but I never lost hope that things would get better.” And so, no matter what any of us faces, no matter how real the threat or how long and hard the battle, we absolutely must not lose hope. Things will get better.

Thank you, Shelby, from the very bottom, neediest place in my heart.

hello, happy march!

I am so deeply refreshed to be in this third month of the new year, teetering giddily on the knife edge of springtime. The farm has thankfully survived every brutal winter storm that has come our way since last October. Our family is thriving and reaching warmly, patiently, towards brand new miracles. Every day I feel more of that old, familiar, vernal energy thrumming against my bones. It feels the way dirt smells, and it enlivens all my work. It makes everything seem not just possible but also purposeful. That’s beautiful.

Last week, on a whim, we hung LED lights around the outside edge of the yurt. It’s one more quirky layer added to the structure, wildly imperfect and sparkling and welcoming. Hopefully we will soon be filling the yurt itself with people.

Also last week, I finally took time to start a few trays of seeds, and before the weekend arrived they had already sprouted. All of them! So I planted more and eventually hung a bigger sun lamp. I never get tired of this miracle. Genovese basil, several beautiful kinds of tomatoes (especially excited about the tie dye variety) and sweet peppers, Queen Anne’s Lace, Bergamot, tomatillos, and more. I have lots of gourmet lettuce blend growing, too, in those large plastic clamshells you buy filled with fancy salad mix in the produce department. I find this clever repurposing, well, clever. It’s the best tiny greenhouse money doesn’t even have to buy (twice).

I want to prune and clean the gardens hard, but expereince tells me to wait a few more weeks, maybe into late April this year. In the flower beds and herb garden, I have only scooted away enough oak leaves to enjoy the early-blooming tulips and daffodils. That much is safe. But overall, we will have to endure the widespread, messy, sepia dormancy a while longer, for the safety of all those perennials and shrubs still in hiding. Happily, I do see feathery, ruby colored buds on my hydrangeas and hints of electric green in the deepest twigs of my boxwoods. Just like hope, the beginning of springtime is quiet and shy but certainly there.

Last Thursday I launched a story-telling-slash-interview project to commemorate one year in pandemic. My heart’s desire is to collect and share as many varied stories as possible, to capture our collective and individual pandemic memories. Such a time in history! It will all eventually be printed into a booklet, for our time capsule. I want the good, the bad, the scary, the historic, the funny, all of it. Friends and family volunteered quickly, and as of today I have nine interviews completed with seventeen in the wings, ready to Zoom. The stories are all so interesting, I love it. And I love you all for sharing. Stay tuned for each of those to appear individually!

On the topic of interviewing people, if you are fortunate enough to still have your parents alive and in your life, I strongly encourage you to ask them questions as if they are normal people. Very interesting. Who knew parents had so many original thoughts and ideas? Amazing.

Closing up for tonight, friends. I hope you are feeling some of the refreshment of early spring. I hope you are enjoying the slightly longer days and the noticeably warmer skies. Do you want to participate in the pandemic interview project? Drop me a note! Everyone is welcome.

“Behold, my friends, the spring is come;
the earth has gladly received the embraces of the sun,
and we shall soon see the results of their love!”
~Sitting Bull
XOXOXO