Lazy W Marie

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

another post about hope for advent 2021

Hey friends, hello and thanks for reading along here. Thanks, also, for so many comments and private messages after my most recent post about hope. Apparently lots of us are grappling with hard feelings right now, and it is wonderful to freely exchange the best reminders. Thank you!

P.S., let’s not waste time and energy feeling bad for feeling bad sometimes; we all are in very good company. You have every bit of the wisdom and strength you need for this exact moment in time.

Okay.

Today I have a more lighthearted story about hope.

A few years ago our precious friend Maddie invited us to one of her high school drama musicals, Shrek. (Locals, if you ever have a chance to see a theater production at Choctaw High School, buy your tickets and put on your party dress. The production quality is mind blowing.)

Sweet Maddie, celebrating with ice cream
on our final day of garden class a few years ago xoxo

In the story, as you may know from the animated film, Princess Fiona is held captive in a castle tower. Every day she pines for her romantic, royal rescue (a story worth exploring in its own right). She sings about it. She gazes artistically through the tower window and imagines how it will happen. She daydreams of her unknown Prince.

Every day of her captivity, Fiona lives in constant, positive expectation of the One True Thing for which her heart longs. She sings, “I know it’s today, I know it’s TODAY!” In the song she laments other princesses’ hard problems and their grim fates, and she continues to count her own days waiting (20, 21, 22, 23… What day is it?) yet constantly asserts. “I know it’s today!”

It occurs to me at this point that many of us are counting years, not days. If this is your situation, please know that I know how much that hurts. My heart goes out to you.

Back to Shrek.

Day after day, Fiona’s answer eludes her. She continues in hope, but night falls and no deliverance. Over and over again, she goes to bed still captive, still hoping. The audience is drawn into her suspenseful waiting.

Until one day.

One day it does happen. All along her rescuers had been on their own long journey, searching for her. She is found and freed and can finally celebrate. Do you know what she sings?

With even bigger exuberance than before, Fiona the Hopeful belts out, “I knew it would happen TODAY!!” The crowd screams as if Russell Westbrook, coached personally by Bob Stoops, just won the Showcase Showdown!! Energy ripples through the building. Strangers hug and high five and kiss each other right on the mouth. An old man stands up from a wheelchair and does a cartwheel. Giant, sequined confetti falls in a slow-motion whirlwind. A horse whinnies triumphantly.

Not exactly, BUT… The crowd definitely cheers, and I do vividly remember sitting there in the dark auditorium with Handsome and our friends, weeping and shaking a little bit, feeling overwhelming joy for this fictional character on stage, ha! Which just means I was feeling what it might feel like for my own prayers to be answered, again.

Because my prayers have absolutely been answered so many times in life, it’s unreal. The deliverance from fear and danger, from threat and grief and so many very real problems and crises… When I stop to reflect on it all, I get tearful giggles. How could I ever ask for more? And yet, life marches on and problems and heartaches are just part of it.

I’ll happily take it all, and lots and lots of it, thank you very much. The beautiful, the mundane, the terrifying, the delicious. I’ll take all the shadows, because I want all the blinding light too.

And when the prayers are hefty and the miracles we need are immense, like they are right now, again, I want to be like Fiona. I want to live in constant, positive anticipation of our deepest hopes being fulfilled TODAY.

One day it will be today. Our disciplined, hopeful singing will turn in an instant to shouting and celebration, all over again. The pain of waiting will be forgotten, all over again, out of the blue.

Out of the blue has been exactly how so many miracles have been delivered over the years.

Jocelyn, in her bliss, that first summer she lived in Colorado.
We rode horses and laughed so hard that day, and my sunglasses bounced off on the trail. xoxo
Jess, planting flowers at her first apartment,
the day she told me about this boy she had just met, named Alex. xoxo

Keep praying, friends, and I will too. Keep imagining and expecting the best of everything. Continue in hope. Every scripture invites us to enjoy this habit. Every good bit of spiritual literature will press you into some theme of inner buoyancy, which is what hope feels like to me.

“Despair is the development of pride so great
that it chooses one’s certitude rather than admit
God is more creative than we are.”
My sister Angela shared this beautiful quote with me
XOXOXOXO

advent 2021, choosing HOPE as a strategy

Earlier today I was about 2,000 words deep in an overly effusive essay about hope. This is the first week of Advent, after all, a few days meant to celebrate the virtue. I was excited to share some stories and ideas with you and just typed feverishly all morning.

Then I received some disturbing news wrapped in painful, stabbing words that sparked some deep anger, and my enthusiasm plummeted. I let myself “feel the feelings,” so to speak, until it felt like I was actually spiraling out of control in those emotions. I am struggling lately, as hard as that is to admit, and it doesn’t take very much for me to lose my balance.

One valuable lesson I have learned in this ongoing emotional rollercoaster is that when I sense my feet are on the banks of quicksand, when I feel that out of control kind of grief about to overtake me, it’s time to reach out to someone else. Not for salvation necessarily, but to be a help if possible. It’s good to reach out to someone beyond the situation at hand, pray for someone totally unrelated to my current crisis, and widen my view until my heart expands past this immediate pain and I regain some perspective. Our grandmother Ina Lynne was know for practicing a version of this, and she was one of the gentlest, strongest, most forward-thinking women I have ever known.

So I called my sister Angela, just to say hi and let her know I was still praying about something she had shared with us. I used my most stupid fake-chipper voice.

Can I pause here and say what a blessing it is to have siblings who are your friends and confidants?

We chatted only briefly before she asked about my girls, and my stupid chipper voice faltered. We have grown close enough now that I can no longer hide much of what’s going on inside me, and actually this is wonderful.

“This is not hopeless,” Ang said. I physically crumbled against the wall and started crying. She did not know I had been writing for the past three hours about hope.

“You have every reason to be hopeful,” she asserted, in a low, denim-velvet voice, both soothing and authoritative. She knows a thing or two about hopelessness, recovery, addiction, alienation, and more.

She also knows about healing and the power of community and HOPE. She works for an agency by that exact name, by the way, and their mission is to usher the least hopeful among us into new lives.

We spoke for a few more minutes about odds and likelihoods and statistics, about patterns and trauma all the many hardships inflicted on our kids over the years. But the real message between us was the power of Love and prayer and the reality that hope flourishes into actual, living-proof results. She got me to refocus on the future instead of wallowing in hate for the people who have hurt my girls. I hate that I need this redirection, but I do sometimes, and I am grateful when I get it.

We get to choose hope. We get to let it warm us and strengthen us while we endure the unknowns. Hope leads us into better choices and better habits and better outlooks. We expect more from ourselves and hold higher standards for each other when we side with hope and remember that despair is a shifting illusion.

Sure, we get to feel the fear, and the pain, and even the rage, and then we get to actively set our feet on solid ground and walk the much better path.

I am so thankful Ang picked up the phone while I was still on the brink of emotional quicksand. Part of the magic, as I am sure you already know, is that in reaching out toward someone else, chances are pretty good that the connection will lift you, too.

For my family, I choose hope. I choose to believe that healing is real and overcoming is what we were born to do. I choose to believe that Love transcends literally every hardship, and the fate others have chosen does not have to be ours.

“Hope is not a strategy.”
“You must not have been here long.”
XOXOXOXO

do I have resting worried face?

A few days ago while grocery shopping, I accidentally caught my own reflection in a narrow mirrored pillar, but I didn’t realize it was my own reflection. I definitely thought, for a split second, it was a stranger, a very worried, deeply sad, visibly distressed stranger. Her eyebrows were knotted upward, mouth pressed thin and downturned, overall countenance gray and dull. I smiled at her to cheer her up just as I was realizing my mistake.

As I retreated from the mirror, it sunk in that I had been walking around like that in public. Just broadcasting to strangers an outward expression of some private pain. It was unintentional, and I felt really ashamed. When I shared all of this with my husband later he said, “Yeah babe, now you know why I am always asking you if you are ok.” Yikes. Do I always look so sad?

Since this weird moment, I have been trying to be more conscious of how my inner storms are leaking out. I am making an effort to interact with the world a bit more lightly. To be clear, I don’t mean to suggest that we fake happiness or deny anything real or worth examining, but I have learned the value of smiling anyway. I have learned to just to acknowledge and accept my sadness then choose as often as possible to smile anyway.

To choose joy despite loss and grief and worry.

To accept humor and fun surprises with open arms, because they can be powerful tonics. Everything that counterweights hardship is a gift.

To vote for hope and optimism in the face of some scary unknowns. Count the victories, dwell on them!

I have learned to actively express gratitude for so many blessings, so much emotional comfort and practical safety and stability in the world. What extravagance. We are so loved.

I will actively choose to invest in healthy relationships, happy memories, and hope for our family’s future. Give thanks for people still living, for whom our prayers matter greatly, joy for friendships that uplift us and traditions that keep us grounded. These are glittering gifts.

Because winter is coming, I am consciously accepting the many luscious gifts of a long, slow, mild autumn, a healthy and colorful farm dotted with well fed, affectionate, hilarious animals. A house that keeps us comfortable and stimulated. I remind myself to go walk around the farm after I have finished my work, thankful for the weather and all the beauty around us. Every single beautiful day is a gift.

Instead of focusing on the precious time we lost with Jocelyn and Jessica, instead of focusing on the abuse they endured all those years, I am focusing on their lives now, and on Alex and the pups, who we love dearly. We are focusing on these kids’ unbelievable capacity to heal and rebuild, on their tenacity and wisdom, their tender love and unnatural beauty. Every text, every visit, every hug, is a gift.

We truly have so much to celebrate. This doesn’t mean we are forgetting about yet unanswered prayers; it only means we are saying thank you for so many prayers that have already been answered, after years of waiting and hoping and striving.

How could we ever give up on any miracle we crave? So much has fallen straight out of the sky for us. I want to more often express that hope and joy physically. My face should more often reflect my deep hope and abiding joy, instead of my worry.

Today I was in a different grocery store and was actively framing my thoughts and making an effort to smile at and chat with everyone. My heart was freshly refilled with the same strong worries, the same toxins, but I just acknowledged them and persisted in drumming up the better schools of thought. Though I never accidentally caught my own reflection, I think my vibration was better than a few days ago. Everyone smiled back at me, and lots of people stopped to chat. It was wonderful and sweet. A young man approached me and asked my age, and how was I today, and a generous offering of just so pretty, and do I need anything at all? It was sweet and kind and unnecessary, and it helped me feel like I was back in society a little bit. Like maybe I wasn’t scaring people away with my facial expression.

Handsome and I talked things through over dinner, and my heart settled onto some good, warm truths. Yes, we are surrounded by worries. We are traumatized and wounded, and we are occasionally weary. We are waiting for some precious answers in the world, as you are too. It is wise and useful to share our concerns but not dwell on them. Much better to dwell on the amazing goodness and unseen beauty headed our way.

So, if I have crossed your path recently and resonated sadness, I am very sorry for that. I am sorry for ever spreading darkness over light. Maybe admitting this will at least let people know that my constant encouragement to choose joy do come from a place of knowing it is sometimes a very difficult choice. I know it is not always easy to cling to, but it is always worth it. Keep choosing joy.

Signed,
Mrs. Resting Worried Face

“I knew it would happen today!”

Three seperate times this week, a question has found its way into my view, and I cannot resist exploring it with you:

What if you woke up to discover
that all of your prayers had been answered?

One version of this idea was related to health and fitness. I woke up feeling great, which led to being curious about how different my routine would look if every bodily niggle was healed, every aesthetic hope fulfilled, and all my energy topped off. Would I run more miles, or less, and how would other activities like pilates and yoga fit in, if I am moving to feel my best instead of solving problems? Would I go on more adventures instead of exercising, or would I still need that time alone?

Then I was indulging in how different our family will feel when Jocelyn rejoins us (again). How complete and alive we will be with her among us again. What a blinding joy that will be!

I hang onto the vision I had in December 2019, of her and Bridget walking up to the kitchen door on a sunny day. She is all smiles, her enormous brown eyes wet and bright, her sweet olive skin, equal parts woman and little girl. She opens the door tentatively, and we hug fiercely without missing a beat. Everything good floods in. All the love. All the colors. We are crying from laughing and laughing from hugging. Without reservation, she tells me everything she has been through these past few years, and I listen without giving advice. She sinks in. We missed each other so much. Bridget remembers us and brings BW rocks to fetch, and everything else falls away.

Jocelyn tells me that she can fix Dusty’s hoof if I want her to, and she gently chastises me for not riding Chanta like she knows I want to. We share new music and movies and cook dinner together. She likes that I still listen to the songs she gave me in Colorado, and she tells me all about her new romance. I do my best to relay my sorrow about her Dad. She is home forever this time.

Then.

I think about how much happier my husband is when his work is rewarding, how it’s not the exertion or the hours at the office or the extreme multitasking (he can handle anything) so much as it is the deep satisfaction of making a difference in the world and with his people. This is an ongoing miracle unfolding in our life, and I wonder how much better it still can be.

I am excited for post-pandemic family time, free socializing, hostessing, volunteering, travel, all of it. What will it feel like to throw a party again, to drive to New Orleans and the beach and to eat in restaurants? To annoy my friends again with attack hugs? So good.

We are just weeks away from true springtime, and that familiar knowledge, despite the arctic air headed for us this week, helps me feel some of this more concretely. The relief!

I can think of dozens more big miracles my heart craves and how it might feel to realize they have happened. That they are unfolding. Often when I am running at the lake or on trails, my mind is just playing movies, visualizing the fruition of our deepest hopes. It’s the fabric of prayer for me, the beautiful unfolding of all those petitions.

In fact, they are unfolding already. That is the root and truth of my faith. That everything is just a matter of time and trust. Everything expands and grows. Everything is subject to the power of Love, and on some level it already accomplished. Every good thing is very much worth the wait. Hang in there, friends.

“I knew it would happen today!”
~Shrek musical
XOXOXOXO

surprise wedding announcement!!

Have you heard our family’s big, happy news?
Jessica and Alex tied the knot!!

These sweet, smart young people have been loving each other for a couple of years now. They have felt committed and were living their lives as a team already (we absolutely love them together). And on Saturday, January 16, 2021, they said their vows and made it official in a tiny, intimate, purely blissful ceremony right here at the farm.

We really could not be happier or more proud of them both. Since they started dating, life has dealt them a series of violent blows, above and beyond Pandemic. And through it all Jess and Alex have worked hard and pursued their educations, learned each other deeply and rapidly, nurtured their friendships, woven each other into their respective families (we feel so connected to Alex’s family!), and created their own little culture of romance and domesticity. Plus they adopted Bean, ha!

Handsome and I have felt lucky to walk alongside them these past couple of years, getting to know Alex, witnessing their unique rhythms and their powers to overcome hardship. They have done more than survive; they have thrived. Grown and evolved. Made memories together. Lived life fully, as it meant to be lived.

When Jess called me (on January 2nd, two weeks before the ceremony!!) to tell me they were engaged, I was beyond thrilled but not the least bit surprised. Getting married was truly the most natural thing in the world for these lovebirds.

Their Wedding Day was magical in every sense of the word. Despite the January cold, we all felt that unmistakable glow of Love present among us. Sunshine sparkled. The flowers were intensely bright against the dormant landscape. Everyone smiled constantly “from ear to ear” as Alex later observed. We laughed a lot and filled our bellies with homemade Mexican food and lots of decadent cake. It was a real, true celebration of Love. A day saturated in romance and deliberate living. There was lots of playfulness, too, haha! Don’t worry, Alex caught her:

One day soon I will write about how it feels for my baby to be a married woman now, to share this particluar life experience. I suddenly cannot imagine her any other way.

Cheers to the future, Jessica and Alex. Marriage can be the best, most powerful human partnership, especially when it is infused with God’s power. It can be the foundation of all your life dreams come true and can allow you to be of greater service to others, which I know you both value. May you continue your adventures, taking time to nurture the world you create together and discover new and amazing versions of joy. We know you will love each other better and better, day after day. You are beautiful together, and we adore you both (and Bean, hehe).

Lean On Me
XOXOXOXO

Friends, I will be writing more about this happy family event
as the weeks progress, so stay tyned.
We have lots of stories to share in big chunks. xoxoxo