Lazy W Marie

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

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Seven Days in May (book review)

July 15, 2014

I’ve just enjoyed a fresh new slice of historical fiction, one I highly recommend you snag and enjoy for yourself. It is Seven Days in May by Jennifer Luitweiler, the same author who penned Run With Me which I reviewed about a year and a half ago.

Seven Days in May by Jennifer Luitweiler
Seven Days in May by Jennifer Luitweiler

Once again, Dinner Club With a Reading Problem was dazzled and blessed to receive Jen as our guest of honor. Last Friday night she endured our girlish antics, warmed the room with her smile, and shed wonderful insight to this newly released book, her most recent labor of love.

Jen Luitweiler and me. (Look! DCWRP is so fancy we have t-shirts!)
Jen Luitweiler and me. (Look! DCWRP is so fancy we have t-shirts!)

Seven Days in May is a quick (237 pages) but absorbing read about the 1921 race riots in Tulsa, Oklahoma, including ramp-up action before that. It was an interesting and tumultuous time right between Emancipation and World War II, a time when race inequality, violence, and the oil boom in this part of the country both revealed and tested social norms.

Tulsa was the Magic City that erupted from the soil just like the oil that could make anyone, regardless of color or creed, a millionaire. With rapid prosperity come major growing pains. With so many people spilling into this boom town, we may guess that the riot was inevitable. It is against this setting that our story begins.

This novel tells the stories of several people, two families in particular, living the ground-level realities of this churning social atmosphere. Luitweiler does a wonderful job tethering the historical facts to completely relatable human nature. She illustrates cold, hard headlines with colorful personalities, family drama, and character background that, if they don’t make you sympathetic to the villains, at least make you step back to see them as part of a whole. Her storytelling makes it impossible to read about race division with a cold heart. The emotional landscape of the book is not only believable; it’s palpable. Absolutely engaging.

The two main characters are coming-of-age girls named Mercy and Grace. These names, by the way, are just perfect for their respective characters. One is white, one is black, and their families are intertwined in both common and fascinatingly uncommon ways. One of the elements of this book I most enjoyed was the author’s skill at so fully plumbing the feminine depth. The way these girls and their mothers relate to each other, especially their non verbal communication, was a long, soft poem to the reader.

In our conversations with Jen we learned that the feminine angle was a strong motivator for writing the book in the first place. Where were the women of this time? Who were the wives and daughters of the men in the newspapers? She did an incredible job conjuring up the feminine energies.

Is Seven Days in May suitable for all young readers? Maybe not. The story keeps its head well above graphic sensationalism, but still it contains violence and even one rape scene. It almost has to, as this chapter of history was not pretty. One thing I want to mention here is the author’s deliberate choice to not write with racially specific dialect. She explained to our book club that since it was not in her natural comfort zone to write it accurately, she did not want to risk using it inappropriately. I respect that. She handled so much delicate material with great care, this included.

Hydrangeas and coconut-lime cake for our guest of honor. xoxo
Hydrangeas and coconut-lime cake for our guest of honor. xoxo

Once again, I am pressed to say that this level of historical fiction is what will get the younger generation to learn from the past. It may also be exactly what gets the older generation to discuss it. (As Oklahomans we were all a bit stunned to realize how little we have been taught on this chapter of our own history.) Happily, we understand that several schools in Tulsa, where the author and her husband are raising their beautiful flock, are circulating the book as an annex to textbook curriculum. They are also accepting Jen as a guest speaker. How wonderful! What an incredible opportunity those classrooms have been given. Let’s all hope together that the material sparks important passions in the students there. Let’s also hope together that this generation learns something important from the hard truths of our communal past.

If you have time for one more hope, let it be that Jen’s work is picked up by the Oprah network. The same week that her book was released, the powers that be descended on Tulsa to collect interviews and do research on the 1921 race riots for a full-blown television special. We are all pulling for her that Seven Days gets exposure, of course, but also that the wide audience Oprah enjoys will benefit from Jen’s hard and loving endeavor.

Anger is the strangest thing. Anger is visiting a horrifying fun house, without the fun.
It is like wearing glasses in the wrong prescription or walking through life upside down.
It is an ugly mask, a veneer of venom that covers the open sore of hurt, disappointment,
betrayal, or misunderstanding.
Anger is alive and destructive like no war ever was.
~Jen Luitweiler in Seven Days in May
XOXOXOXO

How perfect that Mama Kat invited us to share a book review this week.
Click over to her cool site to see lots of other great posts.
Not the least of which is her own story about easy, comfortable friendship. I loved it.

 

9 Comments
Filed Under: book club, book reviews, books, Dinner Club With a Reading Problem, thinky stuff

baker’s dozen

July 14, 2014

Today Handsome and I celebrate thirteen years of marriage.

July 14, 2001 xoxo
July 14, 2001 xoxo

Thirteen sets of holidays, hundreds of church services, so many birthday parties, vacations, job changes, celebrations, animal adoptions and losses, fun bonfires, one scary house fire… And too many hospital stays and funerals.

In years past we have celebrated with trips, fancy dinners, and several days away from home. Away from it all, as they say. We’ve had hard times before, but mid-July was always a bright spot for us, a milestone and a reason to celebrate. We’ve been very blessed overall, despite some life challenges most couples face.

This year, life is challenging more than ever. Our foundations are strong but rumbling, and the parts of our heart that we thought might have healed by now certainly have not. Getting away from it all is not possible because location cannot erase some pains. And so home is exactly where we need to be. We’ve carved out a pretty good oasis here at the farm, and retreating behind the locked gate is sometimes the best idea.

We still have so many reasons to celebrate life, though, especially in our marriage. We have weathered storm after storm, growing stronger as individuals and as a couple month after month. What a gift to discover that you love and admire your spouse more deeply the more you see him navigate life. I know that not everyone experiences this, and I am so grateful.

sand initials

 

 

So here’s wishing my Handsome guy the happiest possible thirteenth anniversary. Thank you for your unending love, patience, and protection. Thank you for infusing my days with romance and for encouraging me to pursue my dreams. Thank you for never giving up, for helping me keep that quiet, private flame of hope alive and safe, for facing the world with me one curveball after another. Thank you for being a man who makes me proud in every possible way.

I love you always, now, & forever.
XOXOXO

8 Comments
Filed Under: family, love, Uncategorized

ripe tomatoes & prayers answered suddenly

July 13, 2014

I witnessed the fullness of a miracle this morning, and it came right on time for me.
I am broken-hearted right now, frustrated, hurt, almost paralyzed
by too many life changing worries at once.
And I desperately needed to see that God is still in control.
He reassured me this morning, and I am so grateful.

Sometime late in May I had a few scraggly tomato plants leftover from a market-to-garden bonanza. I had bought and planted and bought and planted until my fingernails were caked with soil and my raised beds were just plain full. Too full, as the weeks since have proven. But still these five or six little seedlings needed a home, along with a couple of jalapeno starts, so I dug up enough narrow holes in the herb garden to accommodate them, thinking, Ah well, if I need to move them later I will. I’m going for a run. Running is my most favorite excuse for procrastinating.

Well, the plants did marginally okay. I decided to leave them there near the Rose of Sharon and hope for the best. They faltered a bit, sagging in the poorer soil of the herb bed then drowning in those monsoon days we had last month. They stayed tiny for weeks. But I left them there, grooming them from time to time, shoring up the soil, providing stakes nearby. I scattered coffee grounds at the base of the tomato plants and scratched marigold seeds around them. Fingers crossed, you know? I had plenty of doubts whether these tomatoes and peppers would survive, let alone produce fruit.

Oh ye of little faith.

Then one day I was at the kitchen sink gazing outside at the voluminous and colorful herb garden, and I noticed that rather out of the blue those scraggly little babies had grown several inches. They were suddenly recognizable tomato plants! They were actually fluffy and beautiful with fuzzy arms, shy yellow blooms, branching elegance, all of it. The stalks were thick enough to stand up to the south winds. It was amazing.

The tomato plants grew and grew, towering lately to about three feet plus as many feet in every direction, laterally. My herb garden is not for the faint of heart. I like things crazy. Then I let the morning glory vines and wasps take over the herb bed and thought perhaps all was lost again.

Well, I didn’t want to give up because I love tomatoes, I really, really wanted those tomatoes. The little sugary cherry kind, the oblong grape kind, all of them. My raised beds out back have the big beefy prize winners (when Romulus isn’t robbing me blind), but in the herb bed I wanted every sweet little speck of juicy red pleasure I could get, and I was sad to think it might not happen.

Oh ye of little faith.

Early this morning after Hot Tub Summit I strolled past the herb garden, two empty coffee mugs in hand, just looking. Enjoying the twisted purple, pink, and white blooms of morning glories not yet open to the sun. Robust sage and parsley plants. Zinnias in every shade of happy confetti. Then I saw them. Heavy, glossy bunches of scarlet red grape tomatoes. Just dripping off the vine, weighing it down almost to the dirt floor.

It literally took my breath away. I’d glimpsed a few green beginnings recently, but the vines were so thick and I was so distracted by other things that I didn’t register where to watch. How many were coming. The green jungle was concealing the surprise being prepared, and today that surprise was revealed. Because even in a thick, shadowy green jungle the color of a ripe tomato is unmistakable.

I collapsed onto my knees and reached in to collect the three or four taut little fruits I could plainly see. I dropped them into one of the coffee mugs, squealing and giggling. They rolled around in the sugary film there, letting a few stray coffee grounds stick to their perfect skin. I felt so relieved that a month and a half ago I took a gamble and jammed those seedlings into the poor dirt here by my kitchen window. Thrilled that every roller coaster detail since that day has swirled together to grow those challenged orphan plants into wild, gorgeous, food-producing machines.

miracle green tomatoes

So I had three or four grape tomatoes in one mug. Then I saw another bunch of them on an adjacent vine and collected those. Then more. I kept plucking and dropping and plucking and dropping until both coffee mugs were packed with brilliant red miracles. And I am not exaggerating when I say that about ten times that many miracles are still green on the vines, waiting patiently for that morning when they will be the surprise, the miracle, the promise come to fruition.

Jeremiah 29: "For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, ad not of evil, to give you an expected end."
Jeremiah 29: “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end.”

What prayers are so desperate in your heart that they seem unlikely to ever be answered, but of course you will not give up on them? Tend those. Don’t stop praying. Look forward to the promise come to fruition. Rest, trust, believe, and watch. Be ready with an empty cup to receive the blessings so fast that your cup overflows.

These are just little tomatoes, of course. I know that. But the glossy red struck me so violently and with so much joy that I knew God was telling me not to give up on some hard things. He bolstered my heart in exactly the way He knew I would hear Him, in my garden. And He will do the same for you if you stay receptive.

Thank you so much for visiting me here. Wishing you a productive summer garden and a life bursting with answered prayers.

Much love from the Lazy W.
XOXOXOXO

9 Comments
Filed Under: daily life, faith, gardening, thinky stuff

my aha moment experience

July 10, 2014

What’s an “aha moment?” Here is the answer offered on the Mutual of Omaha website:

It’s a moment of clarity, a defining moment where you gain real wisdom – wisdom you can use to change your life. Whether big or small, funny or sad, they can be surprising and inspiring. Each one is unique, deeply personal, and we think, worth sharing.

A few months ago I received an email from the Mutual of Omaha group inviting me to participate in a little video campaign. I have to admit, at first it seemed like spam. I was like, suuuuuuuure you want to make a video of me with no ulterior motives or checking accounts in Nigeria. Then I looked into it a bit more and thought, well my gosh. This might be pretty cool after all. So I made an appointment to record at the Myriad gardens and went about my life. I knew my “aha moment” worth sharing would have something to do with positive vibes and the power of imagination. I loosely rehearsed a sentence of two in my head but did not take it any further. For once in my life I was under-scripted. Ha!

Fast forward to a bright, summery day in downtown Oklahoma City. I arrived at the recording spot which was a very cool Airstream trailer and met three of the friendliest people ever born. One guy even wore a trendy mustache. I know. They welcomed me, told me what to expect (which was much more than I had bargained for) and we sat down to record. It was intimidating, all this production; in fact, the only thing that could have made me more nervous is a frog touching my skin. But it was all still lots of fun!

aha moment

Although I only had a sentence or two rehearsed in my mind, the young woman conducting the interview had a slew of gentle, focused prompts to help me tell more of a story. Somehow, owing only to her professionalism and not my verbal skills, we got enough recorded for the video experts to splice together and make about a two-minute video. So, if you can ignore my almost purple face, excessive necklaces, and very shaky voice, because talking is NOT my favorite thing to do, then you might like at least part of this little video clip:

my aha moment   There is so much behind and beyond this, though. Since my “aha moment” has really been a slow evolution, I have a million more things to say about it and am writing background for you, an outline of the reading material and breaks in life storms that have brought me this far. I hope you check back in for that too!

aha moment flowers and plaque

  Have you had an aha moment? What do you think of mine, do you think I’m crazy, or do you agree that imagination is incredibly powerful? Have you browsed around any of the other recorded moments? Lots of cool people in Oklahoma participated. Check them out! Worry is a misuse of the imagination. ~Dan Zadra XOXOXOXO

4 Comments
Filed Under: aha moment, daily life, faith, memories, Mutual of Omaha

stormy pause

July 9, 2014

We woke to more steady, drenching rain, the kind that hypnotizes you, plus generous crashes of thunder. At some point overnight we lost power, too, so the house was warm and quiet, dark despite the hour. Thick, woolly clouds smothered virtually all of our sunrise. We caught just a shimmer of brilliant lightning first in one peripheral and then another, but mostly we felt the muted dark.

The geese honked contentedly. A rooster crowed from inside the coop. The llamas sat on their verdant hill, facing west, right out in the open, getting soaked and more comical looking by the minute. (Have you ever seen a really wet llama?)

No electricity means no coffee*, but that’s okay. It also means a willful, pressing quiet. It means the isolated staccato of rain falling in our chimney. Stillness around me, absent the air conditioner and other humming appliances.

WW candle books

No electricity means I have a chance to sit and reflect with precious few distractions. No laundry or ironing to do, no music, limited life on my laptop battery, no cooking, no sewing, no vacuuming… Lots of thinking. My heart soaks up ideas and emotions while the fields soak up the rain. No electricity is not such a bad thing. And this weather is such a gift! The gardens will enjoy a deep swig of life without my tangled, cumbersome garden hoses; the animals will be cooled all the way down to their dirty hooves; and the dust on our spirits will settle a bit, collecting some much needed energy after yet another devastating life storm just this week.

The power is off for now, but at some unexpected moment later today it will whoosh back on. The lights will blink silently. This modern house will yawn and stretch and rouse herself for another day of work. Our routines will return to us, like they always do. And we will see that life goes on, that storms always pass, that Love still lives here.

The little reed, bending to the force of the wind,
 soon stood upright again when the storm had passed over.”
~Aesop
XOXOXOXO

*About half an hour after he left for the office, Handsome zoomed his car back up to the front door of our house, and I panicked. I thought something was wrong. But he had just returned to the farm to deliver to his electricity-less wife a large coffee from McDonald’s. So, see? A little power outage isn’t so bad. It can be a breeding ground for romance. Even if your guy has to be gone all day. xoxo

6 Comments
Filed Under: 1000gifts, daily life, faith, thinky stuff

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Hi! I'm Marie. Welcome to the Lazy W. xoxo

Hi! I’m Marie. This is the Lazy W.

A hobby farming, book reading, coffee drinking, romance having, miles running girl in Oklahoma. Soaking up the particular beauty of every day. Blogging on the side. Welcome to the Lazy W!

I Believe Strongly in the Power of Gratitude & Joy Seeking

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