Lazy W Marie

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

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Random Sunday Evening Blog Update

   Whoa. I haven’t written since LAST Sunday? Whew. It has been quite a week here. Lots of normal busyness, a hefty dose of traditional and nontraditional holiday activity, some returning health and vitality (and the attendant long runs outdoors) and some brand new stressful surprises too. You know, totally perfect normal life stuff. How have YOU been?

   As usual I have about three thousand great philosophical things I’d like to sit and talk to you about, as well as some easy, fun stuff:

  • I want to tell you all about two books I read this past week or so: Stitched by Anne Lamott and One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp. Have you also read them? I really need to talk about them. These titles are similar in message but vastly different in voice. I predict few people will groove them both too hard. But I did.  
  • You should totally make the pretzel-crusted salted-caramel brownies I tried from Ruth over at Living Well Spending Less. But do not overbake them or the caramel might pop out your fillings.
  • From now on when I make pie crust, I shall always and forever use half butter and half shortening or lard, instead of all butter. Still delicious and sooooo much flakier! It makes me want to make every pie recipe in the entire universe.
  • A Pinterest board I am curating with a handful of girlfriends, Gratitude and Joy Seeking, is gradually collecting lots of followers, and I am sitting here weighing different things we could do with that. 
  • I am fully, joyfully invested in Christmas right now. Inwardly I have been for a couple of weeks, but now that Thanksgiving has been fulfilled, beautifully I might add, my house and everything else can catch up to the colors, sparkles, and music in my heart. And especially since the Christmas season is a bit shorter this year, I vote for maxing it out with love and joy every single day!
  • Do you know how powerful giving thanks is? Do you have any inkling of what is at your fingertips when you use your imagination to its fullest positive potential? Beauty, miracles, grace, and new life are around every corner, in every dim circumstance, if we apply faith and allow Love to have Its perfect way.
  • Have you walked around outside at night lately? My gosh. Here in Oklahoma, the night skies will take your breath away. Last night we had a bonfire party with friends and family, and for a while about a third of us went on a star-gazing hike.  It felt wonderful. It makes me deliciously dizzy to gaze up like that in a cold, dark field… Then getting still and cozy again by the fire is just perfect.
  • Our llamas are suddenly spoiled rotten, hand-fed creatures. They are all three still cat-like in their willingness to be held and fully cuddled, but lately a person can hardly walk out to the middle field without being surrounded by three fuzzy, begging little divided noses. It makes the buff a little sad. He feels ever so slightly neglected.
  • You mamas out there will understand this… My heart is made light and airy, strong and bright golden, when I get long, loving text messages from my children. I am so thankful for this right now! What a wonderful week. I have a couple of really fun daughter-related details coming soon… So happy!
  • Hey, can we please talk about what to do in the garden this time of year? I am currently experimenting with manure tea for indoor gardening projects, and it just makes me so dang excited for spring. I know. It’s barely winter. CALM DOWN LADY.
  • I am going to work on a required reading list for women like me. Care to contribute ideas?
  • Sewing takes up all of my spare time lately, which is flat out wonderful. If you happen to be in the market for an apron or some such textile-ish item for Christmas gifting, send me a message.
  • It’s that time of year when I drink coffee early every morning, work hard around the farm, run a few miles, take a shower, then drink hot tea every afternoon, before the men drive home from work. I am usually reading or writing during these breaks. What is it about the pre-dawn hour and the pre-dinner hour that make my mind work in this hot beverage kind of way? Do you do this?
  • Have you heard the new Macklemore song? What is your favorite new music lately?
  • Foggy mornings at the farm have given me pause to consider the necessarily slow pace of life right now. More on this later, but just take heart that if you are being urged or forced to live one day at a time… You are not alone. Not at all. It’s totally ok.
   Life is amazing. Mysterious, surprising, terrifying, but amazing. I hope you are swimming in the deep pools of grace with me, exploring the riches of a life lived with open arms and a grateful heart. It is different in all the best ways.
   Talk to you soon! Wishing you a happy, restorative Sunday evening!
“You weren’t born a person of cringe and contraction. 
 You were born as energy, as life, made of the same stuff 
 as stars, blossoms, and breezes.”
 ~Anne Lamott
 Stitched
XOXOXOXO

 

You BETCHA I am the Perfect Age!

   Oh Margi. Margi, Margi Margi.

   First you infuse my week with those strong, beautiful words, #furiouslyhappy. Then you throw down this challenge to a group of writerly women to declare why we are at the perfect age. Whew!

Here I am with Margi sitting on a plaster cow. 
Eating the best local ice cream Austin has to offer.
Margi feels like my younger big sister 
who forgot to grow up in Oklahoma City with me. 
My husband loves her. Even my Momma loves her. xoxo

   What an inspiration you’ve been this week!

   As an aside, may I just mention how good it feels to be included in this writerly group? Really good. I admire each of you ladies so much. Suzanne, the smart, quietly spiritual momma who writes her heart out at Periphery. Brittany who mesmerizes me almost to tears over at Vesuvius at Home. Jen who is not only a writing inspiration but a marathon-running one, too (remember she visited the farm last year to discuss her book with our book club?) and blogs at Jennifer Luitweiler. Jen in running the Route 66 marathon today! Rose, a sweet, funny fellow Okie who LOVES my gander and blogs at OK Roserock. Mama Kat. The Bloggess. And Brene Brown. See what I mean? Amazing women. I am in the company of truly amazing women.

   Okay, here we go.

********************

   At this writing I am just past 39 1/2 years old. By the time next year’s earliest veggies are sprouting in an egg carton on my sunny windowsill, I will be 40. And that is exactly the perfect age for the life I’ve been given. Our culture sort of tells me I should freak out about this, but I just don’t. As a child, the adults ahead of me seemed fairly traumatized by this four-oh milestone, so I feel truly relieved to be so happy at this point. Care for some evidence?

   I have been married to the love of my life for more than a dozen fascinating years. We have had plenty of time and millions of opportunities to build an incredible bank of memories and traditions, a magnificently rich, beautiful life together. We spent most of our twenties together and all of our thirties. AND we are still young enough to not hurriedly enjoy our financial security, travel, health, and romantic inclinations. I look forward to growing old with this incredible man, becoming grandparents, retiring, all of it. Every speck. S-L-O-W-L-Y.

   My babies are now 16 and 18 years old. Healthy, strong, beautiful, smart, talented, good hearted, loving, and each of them on a path to a very, very good life. Loved unconditionally, just amazing sources of Light themselves. My heart tells me that prayers are being answered for them long before my eyes will see proof, and that is thrilling. Even from this little distance, I am so grateful to see my girls become young women. It’s a gift not given to everyone. Right now I am stable enough to help them and provide a home for them should they want it. And if in the future either of them decides to start a family of her own, then I will still be young enough to really enjoy being a grandma. It’s the best of both worlds.


   This feels like the perfect age for so many reasons. In (almost) forty years, I’ve made plenty of serious mistakes but have learned so much. I feel steady and calm. Past those turbulent, insecure growth-spurt years and now plenty energetic, capable, and imaginative enough to manage this silly hobby farm.

   Right now I have both the time and the ability to train for my first full marathon next April, something that wasn’t even on the radar ten or twenty years ago. And while I could have done so much more for my health back then, I am super happy to have a grip on things now, before the next season of life dawns. Perfect.

   This is the perfect age to have a large, welcoming home for our friends and family. I am not slave to any complicated schedule; I get to decide my own work days and farm days. And I am no longer mystified by domestic things. In fact, I kind of love it, the cooking and the cleaning and the staying home and the being as quiet or as silly as I choose.

   Because at this perfect age we have so many great friends! And if I am diligent here at home, then Handsome and I are always ready to have fun at the drop of a hat. And that is pretty golden. Speaking of good friends, another wonderful woman Marci and I were just this week remarking on how we both are enjoying deeper, more meaningful adult friendships than any other time in life. How incredible! What a gift. Not something to take for granted, folks.

   This is the perfect age for being a true-blue bibliophile. Seriously. I lacked the attention span in high school. I had the desire but not the time when my babies were babies. And then for a while I was just too sad to read. Now? Bring me all your books. All of them. Every genre. I feel like maybe it’s the curious, thirsty, philosophical women in their late thirties who should be issued mandatory reading lists instead of awkward messy hormonal teenaged girls. But no one asked me.

   This is also the perfect age to really dig deep with the garden. (Did you see what I did there?) I have a couple of decades of true learning under my belt now,  and I am plenty young and healthy enough to work hard at implementing all of it. Watching my Grandpa, I still have several decades to garden. Perfect.

********************

   So, I feel really great. The perfect age for me. Yes, there are days when I feel bristly toward younger, prettier, more accomplished women. I sometimes wish I could rewind about twenty years to make better life decisions then and always be a size six, etc. But as the saying goes, why question broken roads that lead to paradise? Haven’t I been given every opportunity for my particular dreams to come true? Yes. And I am so grateful.

   There are also days and seasons when my maternal heart aches wistfully for the baby years or the school day years with my beautiful miracle girls, slices of my own heart that they are. But there is no shame in nostalgia. God has eased my memory of those deepest pains, replacing them with unparallelled hope and excitement. I lack the words to describe it to you. I’m at the perfect age to sense it. Old enough to sort through the spiritual impressions and young enough to still be amazed by them.

   So what do you think? have I convinced you that I am at the perfect age for my own beautiful, crazy life?

   And how do you feel about YOUR life? I would love to know. Join Margi’s sweet, smart challenge and let us hear it. Check out the other bloggers, write your thoughts, spill your guts.

   Thanks very much for stopping in! Oklahoma is bedding down with sleet and snow today, so I am about to go enjoy a cozy day with Handsome and his Dad. Reading, Eating. Cuddling. You know, just being the perfect age.

XOXOXOXO

 
 

 

 
 
 

#furiouslyhappy

   My ten-four-good-buddy M who curates a smart and insightful corner of the blogosphere called May I Have a Word recently posted this hashtag to Twitter, and it has stuck with me in the most wonderful way.

   She happened to attach it to some good daily news, just a simple celebration of something that in the moment made her life easier: Cheap fuel for her little car, Phoebe. And it’s so contagious! This joy! 
   Furiously Happy.
   I happen to know that she did this simple thing on a day filled with inspiration. She was brimming with that good stuff and allowed it to spill out all over everything and everyone nearby. I’m so happy for her and wish her a long, thick, heavy ribbon of that energy to last her a great many months! Years. Decades.
   What sweet M might not know is that she also did this simple thing in the middle of the week I have started my personal “One Thousand Gifts” campaign, my season of taking inventory of little joys (and big ones), of counting my blessings, of listing on paper so much absolute beauty in my world, my daily life. So her chosen words, Furiously Happy, are perfect. Once again.

   I’m on #107 right now, working steadily towards 1,000. 
   This is such a worthwhile exercise, friends! First of all, I highly recommend you find a copy of Ann Voskamp’s book One Thousand Gifts, the impetus, and read it for yourself. Another friend Amber drove me gently to read it, and I’m so glad! Voskamp’s stories and scriptural explorations are soothing, wise, and enlightening. I’m planning to give this book as a gift to some special people in my life.

   But even if you don’t do that right away, do this: grab an extra notebook and start immediately taking stock of beauty, happy surprises, simple pleasures, answers received, grace notes, blessings, miracles, etc. All the good daily stuff, all around you. See how long it takes you to reach 1,000 gifts, and maybe even make it a group project with your loved ones. It’s like the Facebook tradition of daily gratitude we all attempt every November, taken to the next level.

   Furiously Happy.
   The thing is, yes. Life serves all of us up with acute, debilitating pain, aching pain that lingers, and very real, very deep loss and grief. Our little farm family is enduring another dark chapter right now, one unlike any before. But God Who loves us so perfectly and so permanently… continues to bless us every single day! And counting and appreciating these blessings doesn’t deny that pain; but this habit may very well help to ease it. The cultivation of joy… The warm, open heart… May be the secret ingredient to our collective healing.
   Furiously Happy.
   I know that in my own turbulent faith journey, in coping with these changes with my children, this ongoing separation that is so impossible to understand, the worst times have been when I surrendered to the blackest pain. I become mean, bitter, jealous, unattractive, judgemental, unproductive, and physically unwell. Not good. I hurt myself, and I hurt my loved ones. Conversely, the best times have been when I surrendered to the brightest joys. Everything clicks. Friendships blossom, home life is downright blissful, my health skyrockets, and (get this) communication and affection with my girls improves like you can’t imagine. Much, much more laughter than tears. Unbridled goodness all over the place. It’s almost scary how much power I have with my thoughts and feelings. (You too, by the way.)

Choose Light every single chance you get. 
Which is every moment of your life.

   So I’m a big believer in the power of your perspective to actually shape your world. For me it has proven to be much more than a nice idea or spiritual theory; it has for several years now changed circumstances in my life. Wrap all that energy into focused prayer, and nothing is hopeless. No pain is forever.

   Furiously Happy. It’s more of a conscious choice than we sometimes want to admit. 
   So thank you, M! Thank you for articulating your burst of joy the way you did. I read it and imagined your eyes squeezed shut and your pretty brown hair shimmying as you shook your head and squealed the words. I love you and wish you many many repeated moments of Furious Happiness.
 
“To See the Glory,
 Name the Graces.”
~John Piper
   
P.S. as I hit publish I’m now on #128.
   

Senses Inventory: Sunday Evening

   Happy Sunday evening friends! (Or happy whatever time and day it is, thank you so much for stopping in!) 

“The art of deep seeing makes gratitude possible.
And it is the art of gratitude that makes joy possible.
Isn’t joy the art of God?”
~Ann Voskamp

   I am past due for a good old-fashioned Senses Inventory, and indulging in one right now is perfect for what I’m reading this weekend. One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp is just awesome. She has inspired me to start a journal of a thousand gifts for which I am truly grateful, and the list is growing easily, rampantly. (Amber, thank you so much for pressing me to read it!) The art of cultivating gratitude is crucial to a good, rich life, as I’m sure you agree. As November prods forward, I’ll write more about that. For now, here  is what I notice from where I sit and write:

See:  Mia (canine Mia) the white fluffball princess sitting, pacing, in the wide east-facing bay window. Big, golden circle of lamplight folded between the wall and the ceiling, cross-sectioned by a shadow of the lampshade frame. Vibrant, glossy green pothos and various ivy plants and ferns. Some dried flowers too, and dried corn stalks. Bluish white twinkle lights on the fireplace mantle and all those odd colorful ornaments lingering up there. No longer Halloween, not quite the winter holidays. Beautiful scalloped ceramic bowl of fresh fruit offering me health. Leathery oranges. Mottled banana. Watching the light outside shift from glowing orange and gold to a sexier, smoother blue and gray. Now purple. Now nearly black. All these, within minutes. Now the full, pregnant moon between the trees.

Hear:   Something hissing outside. Handsome and his Dad are working on cars, so it’s probably an air compressor. Or a really gigantic King Cobra. Or the solenoid. (Isn’t it always that with cars?) Mia the tiny fluffy dog yipping at every creature who happens past her authoritative perch. Now her click clack toenails across the wood floors. Geese whining and honking as they parade towards bedtime. (Open windows allow for every farm noise to roll through the house. I love this.) End of the dishwasher cycle, just a hum. Pacino (the parrot) clucking and groaning contentedly to himself, cracking seeds, and dipping his great beak in the water dish. Now he whispers hiiiii to his water. Or to me.

Smell:  Faint trace of bleachy dish soap. Sharp, crisp outdoor smells gusting in through the open windows. Eggnog candle burning warmly. My father-in-law’s aftershave. Pumpkin bread in front of me. That banana.

Touch:  Clean hair, blown soft and loose for a change. Thickly padded leather seat of my favorite very old rocking chair. My own bare feet on the wood floor. Scratchy throat from incessant coughing but a belly full and warm from an afternoon cappuccino. Thickly textured and lace-trimmed tablecloth beneath my wrists. Heavily beaded necklace on my collarbone.

Taste: Remnants of that afternoon cappuccino. Teasing, stolen kisses from Handsome. (I feel a date night coming soon.)

Think:  I am thinking about the amazing orchestration of some spiritual lessons this past year, maybe longer. All orbiting more or less around how to think and how to approach both joy and sorrow… Faith. Formulas. All of it is coordinating instead of contradicting, and that is a real thrill! I am thinking about my firstborn daughter and her new job. About her beauty, her talents, her sweet texts this week. Her future and how can I help her with that? Only God knows, and I trust Him. I am thinking about my baby and how sweet and growing she is, how tall and elegant, how vulnerable. I think about my husband and his deepening grief, about his Dad and how much I have learned by having that precious man in this house with us. I am thinking about how maybe the three of us should just have ice cream for dinner.

Feel:  Hopeful. Optimistic. No, more than that… joyful in advance! I feel happily corrected in some old wrong thinking of mine. I feel so clearly inspired and so well instructed, that I almost can’t NOT talk about it! I feel ready and grateful, happy and light. What a switch. I feel amazed by how good church was today, by how genuine the worship felt, despite so many things. I feel a spark of energy.

   I don’t know yet know what tomorrow holds, but I am content to not even wonder, certainly not to worry. That, for the first time in a very long time, is a description of how I feel rather than a declaration to which I aspire. What a difference! This moment, right now, is perfect.

   Wishing you all deep, still peace. Health. Comfort in the best possible ways. Refreshment, Romance. Hope. Restoration. Every good thing. Not hiding from your problems but accepting joy despite them.

xoxoxoxo

Watering My Soul Roots Deeply

   What a whirlwind of emotion and thought my life has been lately. Even more so than usual. And that’s totally okay with me. This change in atmosphere has caused me to focus more deliberately. To slow down drastically. Sometimes being led around by the next very most important thing is weirdly refreshing, as opposed to just coordinating a circus of marginally worthwhile projects. Being in a state of intensity allows the fringey stuff to fall away, mostly unnoticed, forcing me to deeply water the roots of my heart and hopefully the roots of my family, too.

   I am sick. Bodily, I am run down and exhausted and though on the upswing finally, battling a cold virus like I have not felt in years. I don’t get sick too often, so when it happens I feel almost angry about it, bored, frustrated, useless. This time, I was too emotionally spent to indulge that way. I just sought medical attention, slept, and allowed my husband to care for me in his own ways. When your primary role in life is to be the caretaker, surrendering this can be difficult, especially when your house is full of extra loved ones. But I’m grateful to have a guy who insists on it.

   I have been reading more, which is one of the very good things that had been abandoned this past difficult month. I picked up Stitched by Anne Lamott and devoured it in one night. Then I picked up One Thousand Gifts by Ann Voskamp and am now immersed in that beautiful volume most happily. These modern books, on the heels of reading Chesterson’s Orthodoxy and C.S. Lewis’ The Abolition of Man, well… Let’s just say I could spend all winter sitting with these words, sorting them all out, comparing, drawing parallels, pressing out and preserving the rich, oily truths they offer. It’s thrilling to sense that life is orchestrating your reading, your spiritual education. I’m paying close attention.

   It all is so in step with the vision I had of the Worry Door and those precipitating lessons about gratitude, positive thinking, faith despite the circumstances, and the incredible, limitless power of Love.

 

   Pomegranate seeds. Spinach. Oranges. Sweet Potatoes. Raw salad. Chicken broth. Hot tea. Water. Rest. Reading good, inspiring, nourishing books. Writing down my blessings in a thorough, celebratory list. Being present with my people and just soaking up the farm, minute by minute, hour by hour, not rushing a single day. Internalizing how blessed and safe we are, even in the face of ongoing grief. These are the features of my focus right now.

   There are so many things for which to be truly, deeply, madly grateful. Slowing down and noticing them really does strengthen our bones. it waters the roots of our hearts.

   In the eye of the hurricane again, I truly feel at peace. Wishing you the same blessing and every good thing that waters your soul roots deeply.

I only deepen the wound of the world 
when I neglect to give thanks
for all the good things
God gives.
~Ann Voskamp
xoxoxoxo