About a week ago I issued a mild rant on Facebook about how shiveringly cold the stores all seem to be during the summer months. Like, I had been grabbing a few groceries and stopping for farm supplies and maybe caught pneumonia. My fingers were numb, you guys, and dark blue. Full disclosure: Being out and about immediately following a sweaty run makes it all worse, and I had forgotten to bring along dry clothes and warm layers, but still. Facebook complaining is fun. Everyone agreed with me on how bitter cold the stores are. I felt vindicated.

Then this past Thursday morning, I prepared for the situation. I set out for my sweaty miles and subsequent errands with dry clothes and a cozy zip-up jacket in tow. I felt like the smartest adulting adult in town, prepared for the arctic retail world. 

Around noon that day, I walked into Sam’s to grab desserts for a party that night. (I have not even told you all about Handsome’s birthday week!) As I entered, the woman attending membership cards and such asked me whether the jacket was a return, or did it belong to me. I launched into a detailed, flowering, and informative discourse about how cold I had been last week, about how in fact my teeth were chattering, and how happy I was to have remembered a jacket this go-round. Obviously, she was about to agree with me, right, and complain a little about the air conditioning or the heat then say good job for remembering a jacket and dry shirt?

Instead, there was an awkward pause, so obviously I filled it with more words.

“It’s just so hot outside, you see, and so cold in here.”

She was non-plussed, just looking at me, not blinking really. Just standing there in her reasonable, climate-appropriate clothing and blue vest with pockets.

“All. you had. to say. is that. it’s yours.” She spoke this plain sentence so carefully that I could see it being diagrammed in the (very cold) air between us.

“Oh, ok, yes, it’s mine.” My voice wavered, having lost all the storytelling enthusiasm from a moment ago. I won’t bother lying to you, friends, it hurt my feelings a little. Did she not agree about how cold it always is in there? Or did she not care? Did I smell bad from sweating profusely? Did I remind her of a mortal enemy?

Which is why I haven’t been blogging much. I have scads of amazing stories to tell you guys, truly amazing ones, stories way better than this, but I literally never know where to start or how to stop or exactly how many details you want. They are all important to me, but what do you want to know?

Do you care about the exact contrast between orange butterflies and hot pink zinnias? Or do you care to read about the drifts of basil I am loving or the hyacinth bean vines that bring everything full circle, or the honeybees? Do you crave to know about how the horses drive me crazy in equal proportion to how much I love them? Or how much my heart is breaking for our friends whose life is recently turned upside down? 

Do you want to know how my fitness experiment went in August, or could you use some killer salad ideas? The Book of Joy probably warrants a straight up Lazy W podcast, I am not even kidding you about that. And all the millions of ways that God has been tending to our needs and desires just astound me. I am shivering more from the thrill of all that than from the cold grocery stores lately. This gradual build-up of strong summer energy and the full moon last week and the beginning of a new season of life, parenthood, sibling relationships, books worth reading and why running is actually really important to me. My gosh, the reasons for not writing have nothing with having nothing to write about.

Meanwhile, my paper spiral notebooks are overflowing with daily entries. The farm is thriving. Our marriage is enjoying a burst of life and flavor that make me crave that bubblegum with a juicy center. Gratitude seems too pale a word for it all. And the days slip past too quickly, even with the yet unanswered prayers keeping us grounded and humbled. Thank you for listening. Don’t forget your jacket, ok?

“Follow your inner moonlight; don’t hide the madness.”
~Allen Ginsberg, quoted in On Being a Writer
XOXOXOXO

Around 5:20 this morning I wobbled myself downstairs to let Klaus outside and achieve Caffienation Level One. I opened my spiral notebook and two devotionals and began waking up slowly, filling my brain with all the good stuff first.

I started writing a stream-of-consciousness gratitude list, and my pen could not keep up with my feelings.

Every day lately I am just plain grateful for so much. It’s this overarching sense of domestic tranquility and peaceful momentum. I’m grateful for physical health and bright, wide-reaching hope for the future of our family. I get these delicious waves of pride for my husband’s professional work, not to mention admiration for everything he does for us here at the farm. And the gardens this year take my breath away. They aren’t perfect, nothing is; but they are lush and strong, wild and productive. Often I walk around and cannot believe I get to live here.

One of my devotionals this week is all about the “Forgotten Art of Biblical Meditation.” I chose it because meditation is such a big ingredient to the Tibetan culture and I loved all the Buddhist expressions of faith in The Book of Joy. All of this together has got me thinking pretty hard about the differences and similarities between prayer and meditation. This sphere of thought nods to using our imaginations to support our prayer lives, too.

Handsome lingered a little before heading to the Commish. They are plowing through a heavy “Windcatcher” case this week (a big deal in Oklahoma), and he knew he would have to stay late again.  So he drank coffee slowly with Klaus in his lap, tackled a few quick jobs outside, and during our morning prayer teased me about being able to run a 12-minute mile today. I realized he has no idea how fast I can run, and now I want to prove it to him, ha! On that note, I cannot seem to release the craving to get really fit and learn to run really fast so I can qualify for Boston and just kind of have that under my belt. Most likely, a short list of other fitness related things should happen first, but BQ is there, stubbornly glaring at me from the horizon.

THE HORIZON OF MY IMAGINATION YOU GUYS. (ha!)

After feeding everyone and wrapping up a few more chores around the house, I too set off, but to a nearby park instead of to an office. About three miles into an easy run that was not easy today (thanks Shark Week), my friend Sheila caught me and we shared her cool down. She is training for a faster marathon using the Hansons method, and she is owning every step of it. Incredibly athletic, she is also smart, beautiful, affectionate, holistic, centered, independent, and just plain happy. She’s one of those people whose nearness just makes you feel brighter and sweeter, like drinking good orange juice. Those few minutes chatting and running together was exactly the shot in the arm I needed to finish 7.2 miles. And moving my body helped me sort out my thoughts, too.

That luscious detail of seeing Sheila today just reminds me how much one person’s aura can uplift others. Staying afloat really does matter, to each of us privately, for our own sakes, and to the people we encounter. Thank you, friend.

After a quick stop at Walmart for a handful of forgotten items including face scrub and a tension rod for curtains, I made my way home. Oh. There was a hot tub sitting on the side of the road. We already have one, but I was captivated enough to take a photo.

Once home, Klaus saw the tension rod and tried to pluck it from my hands. Fetch. Always fetch with him. Sweet boy.

My sister Angela texted then called me with some amazing personal news. Something for which she has been hoping and praying came true. We have been praying along with her, and today she learned that the prayer had already been answered last week; today’s appointment is just when she learned the details. God is amazing like that. Providing for and surprising us at every turn. Changing our lives when we let Him. 

Around midday, while ironing shirts and folding laundry in the Apartment, I watched a Netflix nature program about plant science. It included lots of anecdotal information about pollinators, too, and I loved all of it. It did, however, almost make me cry because it reminded me of a small bouquet of sunflowers I had cut and brought inside. The gorgeous blooms had each dropped about a Tablespoon of vibrant yellow pollen on the bookshelf where I’d put the mason jar/vase. I was suddenly so sad and regretful to have stolen this meal from our honeybees.

Hey there, hormonal fluctuations of Shark Week, you are not only making running difficult, you are also causing a cheerful bunch of flowers to be sad. Not cool.

Speaking of plant life, the hot pink crepe myrtles are finally blooming, and I am so happy!!

After half an hour of yoga with Tara Stiles, Klaus and I had a late lunch of a grilled chicken wrap and some Greek yogurt with cucumbers and watermelon. Then the rest of Tuesday was spent alternating between gardening and indoor tasks, retreating to the cool house when we were hot down to our skeletons. 

Although my physical energy kept dipping, all day my heart felt strong and steady. Life really is beautiful right now. or maybe it always is, and sometimes we just notice it better. Maybe sometimes we are more malleable, more receptive to wonder and more attuned to grace. 

Oklahoma enjoyed a lush, rainy June, so our wells and ponds and lakes are full. My heart is full. I feel a depth right now, and a sense of calm for the things we don’t yet see as answered. They already are, of course, just like my sister’s miracle. It is out there, every good thing for which we wait. We just have to hang on and trust, keep watching the horizon. 

I hope your Tuesday, whether average or insane, brought you lots of clear vision. I hope your well of gratitude is deep because it will nourish you in dry times. I hope you had some great food today and that, whatever miracle you’re waiting for, you have the strength to imagine it as already accomplished, in outrageously beautiful detail. 

“You can choose another thought.”
~Oprah Winfrey, to herself
XOXOXOXO