Lazy W Marie

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

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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

 

 

“Witness Me”

Witness Me.

This message has been swimming gently in and out of my vision for over a month, eventually coming into sharp focus, now glowing and pulsing at me like a neon sign.

Witness Me.

The first time it appeared was on November 7th when we had made that first red-flag trip to Colorado. I happened to glimpse it on her refrigerator, scrawled in dry erase marker in her neat, unmistakable handwriting. I think it was blue ink. I didn’t ask her about it then but it struck me. No context at all, not even punctuation. Just, witness me

I wondered if it was song lyrics, or was it a hint at her own heart? That day I knew she was hurting and thought I understood, thought I could help. I did feel a storm building but had no idea how big it would be.

The following week is when all hell broke loose. We had come back to Oklahoma briefly and returned to Estes Park again, this time in a panic. She was in crisis and we found ourselves in a torrent of new information, one heartbreaking revelation after another. Those ten days felt like months, and we lived every hour on high alert and in fervent prayer.

One of the patterns that emerged then was the rhythm of our constant prayers. It was like untangling delicate thread as quickly as possible, to sort through all of our emotions and to cope with all of the shock and constantly changing details. We did a lot of talking to God, you know? A lot of crying straight out to Him. And in those ongoing conversations, my husband and I found ourselves just sort of describing what had happened, as if God didn’t know. Describing everything in audible voices, like desperate, emotional sportscasters, all the terrible things and all our fears, but also all of the incredible things God had done that day or in some particular situation. It buoyed us, fueled our “big asks,” which were numerous. And when we needed to remember, we called out so many of the miracles He had performed for our family over the years. Specific things. Big things! Unlikely things. It all just poured out of our bellies naturally, and often we could barely keep up with the stream of words.

Witness me.

After several days we began to see more and more that God was taking control. That sounds great, of course, what could be better? Except for how it feels at the beginning when He pries it out of your hands and as parents, you begin to panic. It feels like your child is being taken from your grasp, and truly it takes a while to realize there is no better place for her to be than in His hands.

The accompanying message was unmistakable:

Witness Me. Watch and see what I’m gonna do for her! I can do more than you could ever dream of doing for her yourself!

Friends, I still get chills thinking about that, the first time this washed through my thoughts and my body. Humbling, but encouraging. Thrilling.

Around this time Handsome and I both were coping with a growing hatred for the mountains. We woke up in a different hotel room every few days, staying as close to her as we could. Every morning after a broken sleep we saw these incredible panoramic views. We breathed in the strange cold air and just hated everything, every detail that we might normally have relished. It’s hard to hold affection for a place that tries to kill your child.

But God corrected us.

One morning, in particular, He showed me the sky and the mountain range in Colorado Springs and asked (not gently), “Do you remember Who made them?”

The sky broke apart in golds and silvers. Enormous shadows and frothy clouds slid down the slope of Pike’s Peak and it all hit me at once, so much sorrow and shame for my misguided anger. All my fear for her, an ocean of uncertainty, repentance for doubting God. I could not stop crying, right there in the breakfast room of a La Quinta, holding a Styrofoam cup of bad coffee.

Witness Me.

cell phone snapshots will never do justice to the views

 

Witness Me.

It would be almost two weeks later, back at the farm again, wrestling with a brand new ugly reality and still reeling from her most recent departure, when the message appeared in much more than a whisper. I was rounding the dining room table, navigating Klaus and his fetching energy, having just done morning chores. One warm fresh egg was in the pocket of my quilted vest. No doubt I was in active worrying mode, trying to muscle my way into positive thinking. Sometimes that’s easier than others, you know?

And suddenly, Klaus at my feet and that single warm egg in my bare hand, in my pocket, those same two words slammed into view, this time into my actual ocular view, in neon:

WITNESS ME!

Kind of startling. But in seconds all of my anxiety dissolved.

I stopped and said, “Okay,” and just started listing the things God had done that day. Then I went back to the day before. Then the day before that. And the energy built. I listed mundane stuff, because it matters too, but mostly I let my heart settle on the amazing answers He had been sending us, resolution like a wide, rushing river. Twists of circumstance and provision you would hardly believe!

Then He made me look directly at the worst of it all, every horrible fear, made me stare right at it, and held me the whole time, whispering again, saying, “Witness me, not the darkness.”

This is not the first time in life we have been warned against worshipping problems. Remember the Worry Door? And I haven’t even shared the sermon we heard the month after 9/11. God so clearly wants us to trust Him.

Okay. I had planned to actually list every single thing God has done for us this month, right here in this blog post; but that will have to be a separate effort. We do have a notebook full of memories from this ordeal, and we continue to add to it daily. It’s an ongoing drama but also an unfolding love story. God is so good and strong and generous. Despite all the grief, He is moving and answering. Mending our lives in unprecedented ways. Opening and strengthening our hearts and our relationships.

If you have been praying for us, for her, know that it is working. And thank you so much!

If you need prayer, know that it will work. There’s just no maybe about it. God is more powerful than your problem. He is more capable than you are to handle it. He might guide you to act for a while then remove it all from your grasp, but that’s okay.

Witness Him.

Notice the things He does for you. Keeo your eyes fixed on Him, focused on the light, not the darkness. When the darkness seems to swallow you, close your eyes and remember Him from before. Bring that light back into focus.

Witness Him to yourself privately and to each other intimately, to the world around you. See His works for how beautiful they really are. Help each other cling to hope.

I am so sure, deep in my bones, that all of this matters a great deal.

Thanks for reading, friends. As always there is more to say. But I needed to share that much with you while it was available to me.

I hope you have a great Thursday and that whatever you are facing, you find a moment to witness Love in action. Let it take over your mind!

“Call unto me, and I will answer thee,
and show thee great and mighty things
which thou knowest not.”
~Jeremiah 33:3
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

 

this storm is over

Have you ever been caught in a storm that descended out of nowhere, was more violent and long-lasting than anything you’d ever endured, then fell apart and cleared away just as suddenly?  Maybe after the storm, you were stunned silent for a while, looking around to survey the damage as you caught your breath, slowly accepting that the worst was over and you could finally, truly relax. You might have hidden in a safe place during the storm, and found ways to be comfortable there, but afterward, you could come out into the open again. Only it took you a minute to realize this.

The last several weeks have delivered a wide spectrum of joy, our days and nights filled with both average beauty and extraordinary miracles. Handsome and I have exhausted ourselves working hard and playing harder, carpeing all the diems the best ways we know how. I have a lot to share about how life has changed here at the Lazy W. But I don’t know quite where to begin.

I keep drafting blog posts about lemon-artichoke pasta and what to grow in your fall gardens, also how my marathon prep has been going, but I know there is something bigger to share. And some of you know it too.

The thing is, our biggest storm is over. The one that began over a decade ago and brewed and stalled and tore through our lives and wreaked all kinds of scary havoc, the storm that began losing strength three years ago and released one of our girls to us, the one that even before that was closed behind the Worry Door, just like a hurricane, is finally over. One day the violence and the blinding rain just stopped. Like we knew it eventually would. Then the quiet came. And eventually some sweet, bright sunshine and gentle breezes. And now we just know that it’s over.

I am finally coming out of the stunned silence.

Jessica  turned twenty in August. She and I had been exchanging sparse emails throughout the summer, but they stalled around her birthday. Then not long after we were in touch aagin. The notes were long and sweet, intimate, meaningful, and rapidly becoming less and less careful. Less formal, increasingly familiar and delicious. We were building up a good line of communication, and I was grateul for it and not interested in rushing anything.

Then on the eve of the solar eclipse, she reached out in an unexpected way, although sort of how I always imagined she would, and the next day we spoke on the phone. It was the first time I had ever heard her adult voice, and I can tell you the sensation was a lot like hearing her infant voice crying for the first time. Only this time she laughed.

We spoke eagerly, giggled, exchanged I love yous and continued trading notes all of that day and evening and for days after. Then we made arrangements to see each other on the upcoming Friday afternoon. The days and hours leading up to our date felt, not surprisingly, a lot like anticipating labor induction two decades earlier. Except this time I was much healthier and much better prepared.

I picked her up in Oklahoma City. We spent the early afternoon drinking cold drinks and chatting (laughing so much), shopping for clothes and celebrating when we found bohemian dresses with pockets, reminiscing, grabbing groceries and getting caught up on life. We covered so much emotional ground as we drove around making quick stops all over Midwest City.

Then we drove back to the farm to cook together. She wanted to make shepherd’s pie and a cinnamom crumble cake, both of which turned out delicious. She has always been a natural in the ktichen.

Our reacquaintance was easy and natural. Handsome made it home from work early enough to spend time with her, too. It all felt so nice. She gushed love and affection. Noone had their guard up. We seemed to understand each other intuitively. Not only was there never an awkward silence or a forced word; the exchange of love was airtight and soothing. Harmonious. The way you always hope and need for communication to be. She is the same sweet little Jessie Michelle we had been mourning all these years, and she has done a stunning amount of maturing, too. I am so deeply grateful to know the woman she is becoming.

After I drove her back to the city so she could get ready for her evening and weekend plans, I realized that we had just spent four and a half hours together, during which time we never stopped talking. And it broke a silence of four and a half years. The mirrored time frame brought me to tears and shuddering laughter on my drive back to the farm. 

You could rightfully argue that four and a half hours could never replace the loss of four and a half years. But maybe you have never been through this. You would have to feel what I felt and learn what I have learned about God’s power and generosity to restore what’s been lost. Everything really can be wiped away in a moment. We have everything we need.

Okay. I have more to share soon. I appreciate you, as always, for stopping in here. It’s nice to share my heart with you and to have broken the silence too. This storm really is over. 

“Peace be still.”
XOXOXOXO

my bliss list for august

Hello and happy last day of August. I kinda can’t believe what the calendar is declaring, especially compared to what the weather is whispering. But here we are, well past the halfway mark for the year and once again taking stock of so much joy. 

After writing these privately for several months, I’m sharing for the first time my personally curated “Bliss List,” as inspired by an Austin based blogging team The Hungry Yogis. I hope you groove this. 

Farm Stuff…

  • Those chicks that hatched over Memorial Day weekend are growing like happy, bouncy little weeds. Their scruffy feathers have smoothed out, too, and they have found a place in the flock.
  • So much lush, green grass everywhere. Barefoot quality stuff. Cool, velvety lawns devoid of sticker patches. Bliss.
  • Hummingbirds smother the zinnias especially.
  • Speaking of zinnias, they are outstanding this month! As are the sunflowers, oregano, chocolate mint, roses, basil, lemongrass, morning glories, and more. The easiest plants to grow, sure, but no less blissful in their abundance.
  • We have a deer family visit from the Pine Forest several times per week. All month they have gathered at the pond around 5:45 a.m.
  • A baby hawk recently hatched. When it screams at us, we feel like we are in a Heman/Skeletor cartoon.
  • Natasha actually caught and killed a field mouse. It’s a miracle. She paraded it around for days.
  • And we discovered two baby kittens in the barn! Pretty certain that Giant Yellow Forest Cat is the daddy.
  • Fat, healthy, happy horses who (this is a new development) don’t mind fly spray anymore. Bliss for them and for me.
  • This month we collected far more fresh eggs than we could eat and had plenty to share.
  • Herbs, peppers, and leafy greens (kale and arugula) continued to grow the whole month, with constant little harvests. So fun.
  • We picked up an order of fresh hay in early August. The big, heavy bales are fragrant and gorgeous and should last until winter. Bliss to be stocked up.
  • The honeybees are multiplying again and are still building up their honey stores. It’s all pretty magical.
  • Velvet and Lincoln have been staying at the farm!! We all love having them here. So much fun. And it has been a character building experience for Mr. Only Child aka Klaus.
  • My husband has been mowing the grassy areas adjacent to our gravel driveway into curving wildflower meadows. I call it the “Curves and Edges Meadow.” The long, south edge is part of the front field, where Chunk-hi used to live. The earth there is not only healing; it is bursting with new life, a brand new wildness. The poetry is pretty hard to miss.

Personal Stuff…

  • I cut my bangs once this month and did not botch them. Cool.
  • Running has been on a steady uptick, my plantar situation healing nicely and my mileage increasing slowly each week, up to 130.56 for August. Running = bliss.
  • I found a new running trail near the farm! Having options is nice, especially for long-ish miles.
  • My health overall has been great, in fact. I feel easily vibrant, aware of not having chronic troubles. I appreciate it more and more as a gift, not a given.
  • Gutting the Apartment and starting a big redecorating project up there has been deeply satisfying. Like shedding old skin and starting fresh.
  • The book Code Red and all the intense charting I’ve done this summer really came into focus this month. I have enjoyed some fascinating insights and uncanny celestial coincidences. Three or fours women in my life might be about ready for me to stop coercing them to read the book, haha.
  • I am so happy to have made room in my schedule for things that really matter. This particular life improvement showed clearly this past month, and I am grateful. 
  • Good solid contact with my most beloved people. August brought lots of amazing surprises, and I will remember it forever.
  • So many glowing neon signs in life right now, pointing me straight to writing. It has been a month for good, solid alignment of signs, circumstances, and my heart’s desires.
  • August was another month of food triumphs. I could write a book on all the excellent nourishment we enjoyed. Not a cookbook, probably. Just lots of descriptions, ha.

Friends and Family Stuff…

  • We spent lots of quality time with our people this month. From intimate dinners to afternoons with nieces and nephews and of course that 5K downtown, then our big Lazy W Talent Show, August was packed with fun and meaningful socializing. We are surrounded with people who really magnify LOVE.
  • And one Friday night we drove to Norman to see my cousin perform her music live! Such a great night with family, and she is wonderfully talented.
  • I dreamed of my Grandpa all month for some reason. A few times I woke up thinking he was still alive, and that reality stung, but the dreams were sweet and warm and happy. I also happened to find some old letters from him, while cleaning out the Apartment. I think the arugula growing so well has kept him in my every day. Smells, after all, are so powerful.
  • I got to meet Marisa Mohi in person, finally! We had lunch then coffee to discuss bloggish things, then she and Rosie Puppins came to the farm last weekend for our Talent Show. Such a stellar human. I am very happy to know her.

 

Universal Stuff…

  • The eclipse was so refreshing and inspiring. Do you agree? Everyone pausing all day, collectively inhaling and watching the sky, drawn together to focus on something bigger and simpler and far more beautiful than the messes and suffering we have made for each other.
  • Noticing the orchestration of friendships. How sometimes we need someone we have only just met, and they need us too, or other times the familiarity of people who really know your history wraps you up at the perfect moment. The Universe knows us, knows what we need, knows what we have to offer, and is able to weave it all together into a pretty spectacular masterpiece if we relax and allow it to happen. So nice. 
  • This seed of an idea has germinated in my head: That competition can be a waste of energy in intimate relationships. I would love to hear your thoughts on this! But this is on my Bliss List because the notion of complementing each other rather than competing with each other is so sweet and soothing.
My husband snapped this photo of the Oklahoma State Capitol during the eclipse. Unfiltered, so dim and suspenseful.

Friends, thanks for listening. Thanks for checking in. It’s always nice to share the every day blissful details with you. And thank you, Hungry Yogis, for the luscious inspiration!

I hope you are well. I hope if you have loved ones in south Texas that they are safe and secure. 

Trust in Love. Count the tiny pleasures, let them multiply.

“If you are to love, 
love like the moon.
It does not steal the night
it only unveils the beauty of the dark.”
~Isra Al-Thibeh
XOXOXOXO