Lazy W Marie

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

a run down of our festive month so far

In the week or so since I last wrote to you, we have been supremely busy with all manner of Christmas festivities. Actually, since long before that, this has been the case. Ever since Halloween, the Lazy W and our friends and family have been ALL IN with the winter holidays, and we love it! I just have not slowed down often enough to type out the stories. Today I’ll try and catch us up with headlines and snapshots.

 

A family wedding! My gosh. Did you even know that Dante, my first ever nephew, has married his California sweetheart? It was a magical, spontaneous family event in Bricktown followed by some delicious Greek food and a great big cake from Sam’s. Just mountains of love and laughter. Our hearts all bursted open with Love.

And this past week he shipped out to basic training for the Air Force. Words fail me, really. It has been quite an evolution in our family. (Maybe I can get my sister, his mom, to wrote for you about this.)

Sunday, December 9th: After chores and a quick run, my husband treated us to a fancy lunch date at Penn Square Mall, then we did come clearance shopping at Old Navy. (Gotta have balance, right?) We also went to the OKC Zoo with Mickey and Kellie, then the four of us also walked through the Yukon Christmas lights display together. So fun!

Monday, December 10th: That evening we went to OKC to attend our niece Chloe’s winter strings orchestra concert. Absolutely beautiful, nostalgic (I love how schools smell), and Christmassy! She is a talented violinist and a beautiful, witty young lady. We love her so much. Afterwards, Mom treated everyone to ice cream at Braum’s, yum!

Thursday, December 13th: Jess surprised me with a quick visit and brought along a teensy-tiny puppy she was fostering! His name is Jax, and watching her with him melted my heart. Little Jax has yet to find a permanent home, but the jury is out on whether Jess will make this commitment. 

That afternoon I also had the chance to help out at a second grade classroom party, which was seriously so fun. My husband’s employees have kind of adopted a few classrooms at an underprivileged grade school near the Capitol, and once in a while I get to join the fun. Sugar, laughter, more sugar, Home Alone on the classroom television, and lots of hugs for the win! The kids were enjoying “Pajama Day” when we visited, and I kind of wished I had worn my pink Supergirl onesie.

Friday, December 14th:  Handsome took the day off from the office, so we slept late then soaked up an extra long Hot Tub Summit. Much needed. After that, I made him some breakfast and went for a run. Eventually we got dressed and did some window shopping in OKC (but made zero purchases, ha) and had lots of fun people watching. That evening Mickey and Kellie came to the farm for a cozy meal of appetizers and some deep spiritual talking. Christmas feels different for all of us this year, and it merits some separate writing.

By the way, when Kellie and I were texting each other a meal coordination plan, we had settled on “easy, cozy appetizers.” I made naked chicken tenders for protein and some cheddar sausage balls per my husband’s request. I had carrots with hummus, zuchinni, apples, and a green salad ready in case we were extra hungry. This is what my elegant friend brought:

Kellie claims to have shopped at Trader Joe’s while hungry, ha! But truly, she always feeds us gorgeous, elegant food like this. I wasn’t mad. I never am. And my plain old carrots, hummus, and apples stayed in the fridge. Ha!

Saturday, December 15th: What a day! Handsome and I romanced the daybreak, then I showered and shopped for last minute groceries. Around lunchtime, Jess and her friend Mercedes drove to the farm for some Christmas baking. We made sugar cookies, gingerbread men and mooses (meese?), chocolate nut clusters, and saltine toffee. These girls are incredibly artistic and so much fun. We had a blast!! The afternoon was a whirlwind of sugar and silliness, and I will hold the memories in my heart forever. 

I asked them to smile for a photo and they both grabbed a bottle of buttercream and did this.

Mercedes made two excellent frosting varieties in several gorgeous colors. Wonderful!!

Sunday, December 16th:  The early morning was spent doing chores, packing up more sweets from Saturday’s efforts, and grabbing a gym workout. (I’m enjoying some flexibility with exercise lately, not limiting myself to only running.) Midday, we got dressed up as Batman and Supergirl and took a big, red velvet bag full of toys and candy to the Fairgrounds. The Jedi club participates in a special event hosted by the District Attorney’s office, and it has become one of our favorite events. It is all to benefit a few hundred at-risk children in the area. Heart breaking and heart warming, all at once. 

We touched base with everyone at the farm, giving extra hay and cuddles, then drove back to the city for a going away party for our nephew Dante. This was the night we all gave him our farewell love before he left for boot camp on Tuesday. We all gathered at Mom and Dad’s house to play games and make one more big, fat, happy pile of memories. We all love Dante so much and are so proud of the young man he is becoming.

Sunday night was fun and a great preview to Christmas fun next week too. Genny is coming to town! 

In the cozy spaces between all of this fun, we have been driving through Choctaw and Harrah neighborhood looking at Christmas lights, watching our favorite December movies, playing fetch with the world’s most insatiable German Shepherd, and trying to balance party food with salads, broccoli, and chicken breasts, ha! It is working, more or less. Maybe. Yikes.

 

This year we have indulged in some community outreach, in new and more interesting ways. And my mornings are more often than not spent reading a couple of devotionals as well as the Bob Goff book, Everybody Always. We also gather somewhat regularly with Mickey and Kellie to pray and discuss some spiritual matters. The four of us trade prayer requests and stories about how life is going, and we make an effort evolve toward what we think God is asking of us. It has been quite an experience. Again, lots more to tell there. 

Friends, this blog post is weird, I know. I have been trying to patchwork it together for days, ha! I just needed to drop a pin on life right here, so I can move forward with a few more specific stories. I have things to tell you and things I want to always remember. So much incredible beauty and synchronicity is feeding us, keeping us afloat, I can hardly believe it.

Have you seen the new Mowgli yet?

“With the tiger and hunter now gone,
the future shimmered from darkness.”
XOXOXOXO

 

our dewali experience

Last weekend my husband and I had the unique opportunity to attend a Dewali festival in Oklahoma City. It’s an Indian Hindu tradition, and it was beautiful. Our dear friends Mickey and Kellie joined us. Here are some memories, incomplete though this writing will be. It’s just impossible to capture everything from such an extraordinary evening. xoxo

We entered the building at the back, walking through double doors and into a foyer, just like in any North American Christian church. (In fact I think this building used to be a Christian church.) To our left, three Indian men were seated at a long table, all dressed in colorful floor length garments. They smiled and bowed lightly to their folded hands, welcoming us.

The hallway in front of us was adorned on the floor with colored powder, mandala-like designs, abstract lotus flowers maybe, but other symmetrical images too. Tables, windows, children and adults were all covered lavishly with silks and linens and embroidered cottons in every color, mostly jewel tones. Lots of gold. Lots of pink with red and pink with purple, every shade of green and blue, more gold, and a few striking black ensembles edged in silver. Breathtaking, inspiring color everywhere I looked.

We wandered briefly before our friend Kiran appeared. Petite and smiling, she glided down that lotus-strewn hallway and greeted my husband and our friend Mickey. Kellie and I watched as she hugged and welcomed them and they smiled warmly at her, so much curiosity about the evening piquing. I could see the feeling of belonging wash over both men. Kiran directed all of us to remove our shoes. Piles of high heels, sneakers, boots, and flip flops were stacked and arranged along the far end of the long hallway. A few teenagers giggled and walked quickly through our group. I could feel that happy holiday energy.

Our husbands were ushered to the main auditorium to sit up front with the men. Inside, a visiting guru dressed in solid orange robes was already speaking, the language unfamiliar but soothing. Lilting and energetic.

Kellie and I followed Kiran. My eyes feasted on the parade of color, and every person who made eye contact with us smiled warmly. I felt happy, welcomed and loved.

This whole time God was whispering to me again about gentleness and Love in action, not just ideas. Real True Church, in this unexpected setting.

I cannot relay the full experience of the evening’s message, because even with some abbreviated translation we only caught snippets. But what we did glean was powerful, and I was thrilled to discover so much common ground with my own faith:

  • Religion is not full spirituality; it is only a part of life. But it is important. Religion is the salt that gives life flavor.
  • In true community, it doesn’t matter who you are or what you have; it only matters what you bring to the table, what you can do to help others, and how you contribute.
  • Light dispels darkness. New life erupts from death. Good wins over evil, in the end. Love is it.
  • Life on earth is filled with many tangled, curving, meandering paths offered by demons and evil, paths that lead to destruction, but only God (yes, singular) shows the path to salvation.

Since Kellie and I spent most of the first session on the back row, we had a glorious view of the whole room. We could see the small group of men up front, the gurus in orange, and the male children who spoke on stage (irresistibly cute). We saw dozens of women of all ages glide in and out, and we oohed and ahhed together over our favorite saris and scarves. We made secret plans for what we would love to wear, given the opportunity.

Kellie and I also smiled about the many ways this “church” experience was similar to our own American-Christian “church” experiences, things that, the more I think about it, are maybe just human experiences:

  • People chatter politely even when there is a revered speaker on hand.
  • Friends and family are happy to see each other, especially on a special holiday occasion like this, and you do not need to understand the language to understand the emotion.
  • And they love to dress up in extra special outfits for special occasions. It was different, of course, but it sure brought back happy memories from all through my life (and my daughters lives) of wearing a dress to church that was purchased just for that holiday.
  • Little children wander and play freely between the aisles. They just do. Here, though, we noticed that everybody helped. Instead of insisting that one parent do all of the corralling or correcting, all the adults in the room seemed to care for all the little children, and it was so gentle and loving. It was such a communal feeling that we couldn’t really tell who belonged to whom.

After a while the entire group exited this main (unadorned) auditorium and reconvened upstairs. We crowded happily into a room where everyone sat on the floor, men up front again and the women behind a dividing rope. I felt the excitement building and could also smell food fragrances wafting up the adjacent stairwell. (A delicious community feast would follow.) We all faced one wall that bore this expansive and ornate collection of icons. Wall to wall and floor to ceiling, three dimensional artwork, stunning stuff. They were all images with which I was somewhat familiar from literature or folklore. It was a carved and painted display of gods and goddesses, and it was breathtaking. In front of the artwork were tables strewn with food offerings as colorful and abundant as everything and everybody else. Also, dozens of strings of electric lights. A feast for the senses.

I want to mention here that every time Kiran or her husband anyone else from the community (Kellie and I received hints from friendly neighbors here and there) addressed their gods and goddesses, it was with a gentle tone of… not ambivalence… but rather, caution. I understand that vital intricacies can get lost in translation and language barriers, and these are sacred topics. So that could be part of it. But also, the more we learn about this faith the more we see that their beliefs are much more like our own than we had previously grasped. The Hindu God is actually singular and is manifested or personified in many different ways. There are myriad stories and practices which honor so many incarnations. This feels familiar, right? Okay, this is a fascinating topic for conversation. I have lots more to learn before I feel qualified to write about it. But please know that this community, these treasured friends, took us deep into curiosity about our common ground. And we appreciate that so much.

Seated on the floor surrounded by so many women in those luscious colorful garments, Kellie and I did our best to follow along. We prayed silently while they all sang, and we thoroughly enjoyed their happy songs. Children toddled around us, the gurus in orange swayed and bowed, everyone was happy. We absorbed it all and wondered together how our husbands were feeling. At some point we saw that they were being dotted on their foreheads with red ink and received woven bracelets.

I meditated with eyes wide open while the group sang in unison. I tried to guess what they were singing about. As if she could read my mind, an older woman behind me tapped the back of my left arm and leaned in, answering, “It’s a song to worship God.” She said this with firmness. I loved the clean, dark-denim sound of her voice.

During a part of the ceremony when the fluorescent lights were low and everyone was holding a small ghee candle, I couldn’t resist glancing around and behind us. So many beautiful dark brown faces, waterfalls of shining black hair, and ebony eyes illuminated by that firelight. It really took my breath away. The women were gorgeous beyond my powers of description. Glittering, glowing, calm and energetic.

We all rotated our candles in front of our seated selves, clockwise I think, and when I fell out of sync with the group, that same solid woman behind me offered gentle redirection. Later, my husband and I shared the observation that the prayers here closed just at the exact moment that our little ghee wicks extinguished themselves. Beautiful.

This evening offered us so much. We stayed long enough to meet more people, friends old and new, and Kiran loaded me up with a platter of delicious (I mean SO DELICIOUS) Indian foods and handmade candies. We were gifted books to study and were invited to Delhi, haha! Kiran and her friends answered every question we asked.

Eventually the four of us found our shoes and walked to the parking lot, the air cold now and smelling of snow. We drove to our respective homes, chattering about the event, and I ate all the candies on our way back to the farm. (So good.)

In the coming hours and days we had lots to distill. The experience offered far more than I can write about here, and we have all been hungry for the spiritual feast. I hope this writing at least marks the memory so later we can come back to it and summon the feelings, the new thoughts, the echoes and truths rediscovered.

In addition to so much else, Dewali tradition also celebrates the power of knowledge to win over ignorance, which is especially meaningful to me. We had first walked through those double doors curious but plenty ignorant. We left better informed, despite the language barrier, and I think that Love did most of the work. This community just welcomed and loved us, and softened us with genuine hospitality. Along the way God spoke to our hearts. He translated for us. We still have oceans of knowledge to gain, but this feels really good for now, and I am so thankful.

Happy winter, friends. Happy Thanksgiving week. Happy Advent (soon) and Dewali (belated) and happy everything. May light dispel darkness in your world. May Love overpower sin and worry and evil. May knowledge fill all the ignorance gaps. 

XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

 

 

counting it all joy

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

Joy on bright days and joy on dark days.

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

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

Chalk stuff up to joy, even the pain.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Just a few paragraphs later, she writes:

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

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

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

Fear is always this wild flee ahead.

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

tiptoeing into christmas, and asking for your prayers

If I continue waiting to write until life is back to normal and my heart is steady, I am unlikely to ever form a complete sentence again. So here we go.

But the thing is, really, my heart is plenty steady. Despite the massive unknowns and the very real and fresh grief in our family, I am so thankful to be physically home and to be held in every way by God. There is so much more to say. I promise to not be vague forever.

Here is my baby, a woman already, clipping wild sage for me to bring back home. I miss her so much, and yet I feel her right here against my arm and can smell her too. xoxo

Let’s nibble at the day to day things for a bit.

Handsome and I have been tiptoeing into Christmas and it feels nice. It’s important, especially when at first you don’t feel like doing it, you know? I guess it’s all about discerning rituals and traditions apart from cultural obligations. Do what feels good and right. Let it all serve you and your family, rather than become your master.

Immediately after a bizarre and beautiful Thanksgiving with family, we put up our tree, festooned the outside of the house with lights and our Snoopy garden inflatable, and started adding a little more every other day or so. Paperwhite bulbs are inching their way skyward, a sure sign of winter here. A variety of Christmas music plays almost constantly (really loving Sia’s album). More wrapped gifts appear downstairs every day. Neither of us will claim responsibility.

We have accepted more invitations to socialize than I have felt “up to” accepting; and after almost declining each one, every single time I come home so glad. So happy for the loving energy we share with friends and strangers, so refreshed to be away from the farm for a few hours, just to remember that life and the world are big and expansive. As much as I love it here, I always love it even more when we drive home.

I have to mention our dear friends Mickey and Kellie. We’ve all become acquainted sort of by chance (if you still, after all the ways life happens, believe in chance). Now they are part of our fabric, plain and simple. They pray for us and with us. They open their hearts and offer love and support, advice when needed. They feed us both incredible meals and much-needed Truth. If our friendship is an accident, then it ranks among the best in life. A funny thing is that we have precious few photos together (except for Halloween!) because even a small event tends to grow into a leisurely five-hour conversation, all four of us talking and listening and laughing. You know that popular graphic floating around, “Do more of what makes you forget your phone,” well that’s time with Mickey and Kellie. Straight up. So, not many photos. Ha!

We have joined in with the Jedi OKC folks twice recently. Once to dress up for the District Attorney’s Christmas party for foster kids in the OKC area. This is an incredible tradition. Then again for a small town Christmas parade in Blanchard. The weather was merciful and the crowds were so happy and sweet. I am always proud to be with Batman, even if he is embarrassed that when I throw candy I tend to peg kids right in the face.

 

Party on (Bruce) Wayne, party on Darth! xoxo

The Apartment has become Santa’s workshop in new ways this year. Besides sewing (I’m having lots of fun making gifts this year, fun creative surprises, not so much selling aprons right now) the Apartment is a gathering spot. Klaus plays with his myriad toys while I sew or wrap and Handsome draws and paints. Adding a television to this big upstairs room means we can watch Christmas movies as we dabble. It’s all lots of fun, and I hope it becomes a habit that stretches beyond December.

Not pictured is the vacuum sweeper which Klaus is battling, causing him to appear blurry. He regards the Apartment as his playroom. He’s not wrong. xoxo

From a practical standpoint, it’s nice having all of our explosive creativity located in one big, spacious room. It’s decorated and cheerful here but still somewhat “contained,” haha, so the rest of the house stays neat day to day.

Running has been a joy, not a chore at all. Most mornings, right after Handsome leaves for the Commish, I make the bed and wipe down the kitchen, feed the animals, start a load of laundry, and then lace up. Six to eleven miles per day had been my sweet spot, but I am running without a plan this month. Just enough to feel good day to day and keep my heart beating evenly. I have done lots of crying in these solitary hours, and it’s a very good thing. Better runners and more prolific writers than me have already expressed how the physical act of running and breathing is like a mediation, and I will add to that: The privacy of prayer when you are outdoors surrounded by nature is just going to church, plain and simple.

Nice and slow and easy. Refreshing. On this day I remember having energy to spare but my heart was drawn back home. Lots of Christmas things happening!

Speaking of running! Yesterday evening we drove to OKC to join a few dozen local runners for dinner at Hideaway Pizza. Two of my friends plus more have some experience with the Hanson brothers’ marathon training method and have offered their mentorship to those of us who are new to it. I’ve read the book and have already become fascinated by the science, so listening to real life success stories just got my blood pumping for real. I will keep you guys posted on this, whether you want me to or not, ha! Marathon training starts on Christmas week.

Jeff and Robin are two people who have my admiration for many reasons, even outside of their incredible marathon journeys. They are buoyant, joyful, strong, and so loving and prayerful in genuine ways. (But yes for sure I stalk them both on social media for running inspiration!)

Our kitchen’s abundant baking drawer has been restocked now, minus pecans, almonds, and walnuts. Exactly when those items tripled in price I don’t know, but if you have an affordable local spot to suggest I’m all ears!

The Lazy W baking list is long and happy this month. Today a small stack of blank pizza boxes should arrive, meant for packing the treats as gifts. Very excited about this. Hopefully, I’ll soon be joined by a special sous chef or two.

Music is helping me a lot lately. Traditional hymns like “O Little Town of Bethlehem,” especially this line…

The hopes and fears of all the years
Are met in Thee tonight.

Also Sia’s album. One song in particular is Snowflake. She croons…

There’s noone like you so I’m gonna hide you my sweet.
Keep you till winter when you won’t be needing me.
Snowflake don’t forget us…
If I were a betting man I’d bet a million of you.
There’s no way around this, the only way now is through.

Friends, life is good and beautiful. Love is as powerful as ever. Prayer works.

I am here to celebrate the little victories and many pleasures afforded us, despite our mistakes and despite the fears looming. But I am also here asking for your prayers. Our beautiful girl is in trouble. We love her so much, it is excruciating, and no matter how busy we stay, she is at the forefront of our minds every minute of every day. She is far away but always in our hearts, often in my dreams, in the background of every conversation, every project.

God has taken so much out of our hands, we have no control right now. But He does. And we believe that He is drawing us in and holding us tight, guiding our beliefs and saying “Witness Me,” watch what He will do for us, for her.

That’s about all I can write this morning. It’s after six now and the roosters are crowing. Another full day is cracking open, and I feel God nearby. In Colorado, too.

Merry Christmassing, friends!
Talk again soon.
XOXOXOXO

 

The Christmas Hymn That Stilled My Heart

   A week or so ago I was fortunate enough to spend an entire school day subbing in a middle school classroom, a great portion of which was spent on crowd control during choir practice. Choir practice in December means Christmas carols! Friends, it was magical, and it probably had a lot to do with my heart slipping so deliciously into the Christmas Spirit.

   These happy little twelve and thirteen year old kids, wrapped in their sparkly infinity scarves and bouncing around in their fleece lined boots and football jerseys, pretending to feel much older than their innocent faces confessed, just sang their hearts out! I listened and smiled big and had a hard time suppressing happy giggles. Without children in our farmhouse these past few Christmases, I had almost forgotten about this fun wintertime ritual. (Almost.)

   The final song the choir practiced was Hashivenu, a haunting, lilting traditional Israeli folk song based on the Old Testament scripture Lamentations 5:21. In the midst of cheerful modern songs like Santa Baby and Up On the Rooftop, this particular song, no…this hymn… brought tears right to the front of my eyes and tightened up my substitute teacher throat. It was so… yearning. Sad and hopeful. Trusting.

   It bored through all the indulgent tinsel and fluff of the season and addressed the quiet center of Advent. The Coming. But it focuses on us returning to Him, not just Him arriving on our doorstep. I feel a beautiful distinction here; do you?

Hashivenu, hashivenu Adonai elecha. 
Venashuva venashuva. 
Chadesh, chadesh ye meinu kekedem. 

Turn us around, turn us around. We’ll return to you. 
Turn us around. Turn us around we’ll return to you. 
Turn us around, oh turn us around and we shall return to you. 

Hashivenu, hashivenu Adonai elecha. 
Venashuva venashuva. 
Chadesh, chadesh ye meinu kekedem. 
Chadesh, chadesh ye meinu kekedem. 
Turn us around, turn us around. Hashivenu. 

   Beyond the pretty remarkable fact that such a religious song was being rehearsed at a public school, I was struck by the raw emotion of approaching God. Of asking for His help in returning home.

   I am resisting the urge to over analyze this; it is just so beautiful on its own. Today when I read the scripture and recall the sound of fifty middle schoolers singing the mellow hymn, I can easily imagine God holding my chin and turning it gently to face Him.

   Renew our days as of old. No new ideas or plans. No grander adventures than what a joyful, loving life offers with His guidance and protection. Instead, a return. A homecoming and a safe restoration. We all need it, don’t we?

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

   What Christmas songs are inspiring you this year? What speaks to your heart? Why? I would love to know. Music is so powerful, so connected to our emotions.

   I wish you a safe, fulfilling, inspiring Advent season. I wish you a genuine return Home. For me, this feeling is making my December flat out amazing.

Merry Christmastime!
XOXOXOXO