Lazy W Marie

marathon monday: tapering in heaven

April 20, 2015

This year I am spending Taper Week in the most magical place on earth, New Orleans. The Big Easy. Specifically, the French Quarter. What an ideal environment for resting actively, i.e., still walking a lot, maybe snagging a three-miler here and there, some hotel room yoga, but overall just slowing down and gathering up lots of good energy for next weekend. Enjoying nourishment for body and soul from all the sights, sounds, smells (okay not every smell here is divine), flavors, and just… vibes. All the incredible feelings that pulse from this unique cultural microcosm my husband and I love so much. If ever a city within a city were well suited for intense active rest, it’s the Quarter. I always go home deeply refreshed and fully inspired after a few days here.

Once again, that weird feeling that I've come home to a place I've never lived. Every dang time. — Once again, I have that weird feeling of coming home to a place I’ve never lived. Every dang time.

Green, dripping canopies everywhere. Especially breathtaking in the morning sun. Much appreciated around the hard edges of all that wrought iron. Gorgeous combination. — Green, dripping canopies everywhere. Especially breathtaking in the morning sun. Much appreciated around the hard edges of all that wrought iron, this is such a gorgeous combination.

This morning I spring loose from our hotel and walk a couple of miles in search of perfect coffee. Office workers and traveling business people are buzzing around at a much faster pace than me, briefcases and shouldered messenger bags flying behind them. Lots of runners are out on the streets too, sweating it up in the glorious Coastal South humidity. This makes me a little happy-antsy and I have to force my legs to take softer, slower strides. Wearing three-inch wedge sandals helps. As I walk through the streets and clock one landmark after another, I notice feeling less like a tourist than ever before. I am even able to give a woman directions successfully (I guess)(probably) (good luck lady). How many visits to the city earns me honorary residence? If NOLA could only know how much I love her.

Street sweepers are finishing their work as traffic increases. They spray lemon scented, sudsy water that foams up and runs in spirals around every curb, rinsing away last night’s debauchery.

I can’t stop smiling as I pass so many (dozens! thousands!) of familiar shops. My heart is glowing just to recognize these little places. The same fern-collared potted evergreens. The same painted wooden signs and chalkboard menus on the same uneven sidewalks. The same changing artsy window displays behind glass next door to the same haunted hotels. So much opulence and rusticity all in the same space. Everything together in harmony and contrast, it’s all so beautiful I have to choke back tears.

This shop in particular always turns out fantastic window displays. Three cheers for fairy lights on in daylight! Three more cheers for black and white art with colorful flowers beneath. I love it.

Is it silly to see bohemian artists setting up shop at Jackson Square or on Royal street, displaying painted work I know well, and have to suppress the urge to rush up to them with tight hugs and lots of encouragement? They are so young. They remind me of our oldest, and I want to make sure they’ve eaten today and that their boyfriends and girlfriends are treating them right. (Then I Snap-chat that beautiful girl and say about the forty-seventh prayer of the morning for her and her little sister.)

Eventually, big goofy smile plastered to my face and tears drying in my eyes, I land at my favorite shop to sit and drink perfect coffee for an hour or more. They are so nice here. They smile at you and cheerfully offer refills. You can sit by the window and people watch and notice mule-drawn carriages pass by under the ancient shade trees. The windows here are tall and arched, not insulated, the wooden frames painted maybe a thousand times by now. Across the street from where I always sit is an ocean-themed mural boasting an impossibly blue “water” background, sea turtles, dolphins, a plain yellow jellyfish, and one huge black and white killer whale not quite in the center. I’m pretty sure this building is a school.

Today it's sunny out and the nearby French doors were wide open, but you should sit right here during a rain storm. My gosh. xoxo — Today it’s sunny out and the nearby French doors are wide open, but you should sit right here during a rain storm sometime. My gosh. xoxo

Food is of course a big part of the New Orleans experience. And despite some recent efforts to slim down, I do intend to enjoy myself this week. Selectively. Last night for dinner I ate a good sized omelette loaded up with mushrooms, tomatoes, craw-fish, and shrimp. It was delicious! So so so good. And around here you add “Crystal” hot sauce, not Tabasco. It’s the local thing to do. So we do it. Next I’m looking forward to big salads topped with more Gulf-fresh seafood. Lots of fresh produce from the French market. Maybe some gumbo or red beans and rice. And toward the end of the week, closer to the race, some kind of amazing local bread like on a muffaletta sandwich. Or pasta. Or both.

How fun that my first taste of pineapple and watermelon this year is happening in my favorite place.

Being here always refreshes me. It always gives Handsome and me a boost of romance, and the time spent in this culture actually deepens our appreciation for all things good and nourishing about the farm. I am so grateful to enjoy all of this and also get myself rested up for the marathon. Less than six days friends!!

Here’s hoping your week is just as lovely, however you are spending it. I wish for you provision and comfort beyond your wildest dreams. Reflection on lots of blessings (because remember that gratitude is an attractant), hope for the things that break your heart, and strength to meet every single challenge. And watermelon. I wish for you watermelon if it’s in season and perfect coffee every morning. Thank you for stopping here!!

“In the spring of 1988, I returned to New Orleans, and as soon as I smelled the air,
I knew I was home. It was rich, almost sweet,
like the scent of jasmine and roses around our old courtyard.
I walked the streets, savoring that long lost perfume.”
~Anne Rice Interview With a Vampire
XOXOXOXO

this wonderful day was for the birds

April 9, 2015

What a day it has been for the birds! From early morning till afternoon I have enjoyed one feathered pleasure after another, and something tells me the evening will bring still more.

The earliest avian beauty happened while waking up with Handsome slowly, ever so slowly, during Hot Tub Summit. The sky was dark and moody and the farm was dead quiet. Then gradually, as if some unseen person was slowly turning up the volume on the world’s most charming soundtrack, birdsong filled the foggy south yard. From tree to tree, from cloud to grass, in perfect proportion to the growing daybreak, a delicate symphony. We started our day with who knows how many species of happy, peaceful, life-grabbing melodies. Divine. This really helped us carpe the diem with love and optimism.

After Perfect Coffee and halfway through Chores Round One, I noticed Pacino’s cage (out on the front lawn) was open (it was my fault; I’d left it closed but unlocked while doing some cleaning) and he had let himself out. His wings are not clipped so he can fly, although it rarely happens. Thankfully he stayed on top of his cage, just perched there all business like calling to me.

Maaaammmaaaaa!!!

I watched carefully and in a minute or so he climbed down the side of his cage to visit Fancy Louise, our sweet, cuddly hen who was convalescing in a smaller sheltering cage nearby. He really loves her so much. Everyone does! The whole scene was so sweet I put chores on hold to sit on the sun-baked driveway and just watch.

As soon as I sat down, Pacino promptly waddled over to me and then Mia joined us and there was much bird competition happening between the two, and so of course that all needed to be captured on video. The commotion drew the attention of llamas and cats and other geese, and eventually (though the video does not show this) the buffalo.

Later in the day I had the very magical pleasure of taking two chickens to visit my friend Mrs. Robinson’s first grade classroom! This is the second time we have done this, and in fact the first time (last Spring) one of our feathered passengers (Ethel, one of the fancy Polish hens) was just a new little chick. The other one actually wasn’t a Lazy W resident yet. Frageelay (as we call him now) was hatched from an incubator in one of the second grade classrooms at Sky Ranch Elementary in OKC, so technically today was not so much a visit for him as a homecoming.

So I loaded a roomy, hay-lined cage into the front seat of my Jeep and drove to town. What a gorgeous afternoon, by the way! Perfect for being chicken ambassadors.

The chickens and I stopped at the school’s front desk to sign in and say hello to all the nice office people. Suddenly Frageelay started crowing. LOUDLY. Do you remember when your kids were little and they did something slightly disruptive in public but it was so cute you couldn’t help but love every second of it?? That’s how it feels when your rooster crows extra loud in a pin-drop-silent grade school. I scolded him gently and then whispered promises of so many apple cores when we got home. My good, loud, pretty boy.

We visited the teacher’s lounge first and made lots of friends. A few wonderful ladies were eating lunch, but no poultry dishes. And I don’t know how we are so lucky, but Mrs. Robinson’s blouse today was just spot-on for holding Ethel. I loved it!!

You almost can’t tell where Ethel ends and her blouse begins. So fun! Then Frageelay made his hot displeasure known again. I accidentally got a snapshot of Mrs. Robinson’s expression. I told you, this rooster is not quiet. This afternoon at Sky Ranch Elementary, his voice drew a crowd several times.

This is his serious face.
It basically always looks like this, but sometimes it’s just extra serious.

Then we started making the rounds through the cafeteria and hallways, attracting sweet little hands and sing-song voices the whole way. I was thrilled by how many students remembered our chicken day last year! They even remembered the white rooster having hatched there, though they named him something else. I still can’t remember his original name! That’s horrible. Only one little boy asked if he could eat the chickens. Ha!

Mrs. Robinson cuddled Ethel in her arms pretty much the entire afternoon, which put that fancy little hen into a state of pure bliss. She napped and relaxed and as far as I know never pooped on anyone. It was the most precious thing.

And just look at this sweet young teacher loving on Frageelay! She absolutely made my day. I told her how much this adopted rooster loves to be held, and she nodded appreciatively, saying that well, that makes sense, because she held him a lot when he was a baby. (xoxoxo!!) I almost cried, not kidding.

Another lucky and magical detail of the day is that earlier Mrs. Robinson had hosted another classroom visitor who was presenting to the kids a book about a polka-dotted chicken. Isn’t that great? It was all complete good fortune, barely planned at all.

The students were all so gentle and sweet and fun with the chickens. They asked both silly and smart questions. I really wish I had a tape recorder to capture the flurry of affection and inquisition. They petted the mostly unfamiliar creatures. They worried over Frageelay’s claws but also overcame that worry. They really wanted to know whether the two chickens were in love, married, having babies, etcetera, and I had to arrest my normally speedy answers and let Mrs. Robinson handle the delicate life-issues stuff. You never know which kids are able to cope with the idea that we eat liquid baby chickens (eggs). I also realize that not everyone is familiar with the idea of chicken husbands (roosters) having more than one wife (Ethel is part of a set with Lucy, you may recall). Life is complicated.

Thank you, thank you, thank you, Mrs. Robinson and Sky Ranch Elementary!! What a fun afternoon we had. The Lazy W would be thrilled to visit your happy, loving school anytime. And of course it’s always the best thing ever to hug the neck of a woman from the past, when our young ladies were babies together. xoxo Sure seems like yesterday.

Not five minutes into our half hour drive back to the farm, these two feathery children of mine were passed out cold. They wrapped up in each other like a yin-yang symbol and slept hard while I listened to the radio and made sure Rascal Flatts never played (Frageelay can’t stand that group and I agree).

And when I got home, guess who was out in the sun waiting for me? Pacino and Mia. Pacino was safely locked up, of course, but Mia was right there. Bothering the heck out of him. They both greeted me warmly. I returned Frageelay and Ethel to their love nest where Lucy was waiting impatiently. And I came inside to prepare our dinner.

Quiche. Made with fresh farm eggs, also known as liquid baby chickens.

Birds of different feathers can flock together
and sometimes they go to school.
XOXOXOXO

marathon monday: go 19.5 miles with me

March 24, 2015

Welcome to what may be the most stream-of-conscious running post I’ve ever written. Really glad you’re here! I hope you don’t regret this.

I woke up this morning physically and mentally prepped, truly eager for my scheduled 19 mile run. Really excited. After Handsome drove off to do some serious office battle, I fed all the animals, tidied up the house, and basically did stuff I knew I wouldn’t have energy for later in the day. I started an extra load of laundry then immediately regretted it, knowing that by afternoon I would not feel like getting it in the dryer and subsequently folding it all. Oh well. Goodbye clothes and towels.

Then I ate more breakfast than I normally do and just… laid down. On the front sidewalk. Because by 10 am the sun was so warm and buttery that I just couldn’t resist. Then Mia the gander cam and sat with me, because he just couldn’t resist. He waddled from my bony shins, up to my knees, then to my more comfortable thighs, then he settled on my belly. He just sat there forever, honking softly. I loved every minute of it, until out of the blue he loosed about a quart of hot goose poop onto my favorite red t-shirt. Not my favorite t-shirt; that’s black with Mr. T on the front. Just my favorite red t-shirt.

So I scolded him, dismissed him harshly, and hurried inside to soak my goose-pooped-upon clothes in cold water and soap. At that point there was not much point in continuing to delay the inevitable run, so I changed into my outfit. When did I lose interest in this run? I asked myself. Somewhere between animal chores when we noticed all the garden work we could be doing on such a gorgeous day. I answered myself.

Anyway.

At the golf course where I chose to run today, there were some gardeners trimming back crepe myrtle trees along the fashion of “Crepe Murder.” You know what I’m talking about. That horrible chopped off, top heavy weird way that leaves no leaves? Or natural shape? I wondered who should be notified. I gave them tsk-tsk looks and kept running.

Geese were everywhere. I can’t get away from geese! What the heck. I did lots of goose dodging, and somehow all of the neighborhood smelled like cow manure. That’s a thinker. Also so many squirrels.

Energy coursing strong through my body, I felt really great. Until.

Until around mile 7, when I panicked mildly because the soles of my feet were on fire. Like molten lava hot. A problem with my new shoes maybe? I came very close to throwing in the towel for the day because I remembered last year Handsome telling me about this guy who ran a marathon and the bloodied soles of his fell off. THEY FELL OFF. What the farfegnugen.

But I literally prayed to God, please will you let me keep the soles of my feet if I keep going? And I instantly thought of that Sally Fields-Phil Hartman skit on old SNL episode where she mocks overly detailed prayers like please don’t let the mashed potatoes be lumpy and the like. I hoped against hope that my prayer was acceptable, that the soles of my feet might be more important to God than mashed potatoes and their smoothness, then I remembered that just thinking about how hot and painful my feet were was probably making it worse. So I shuffled my music a little and consciously started a brand new train of thought.

My gosh there are so many geese here!

By mile 9 I had forgotten about my feet completely, and they felt better, and I know this because when I stopped for water I checked a blister on my ankle and realized that was my only foot complaint. Cool. Thanks, God. You are the bomb.

He does not mind me saying that, I say it all the time. And He keeps on answering prayers, not the least of which have to do with running. Because God is cool like that.

There is a scattering of soccer fields in the middle of this city block situation around which my running path wraps, and every time I stop to visit the ladies’ room I pass this goal post and have to work really hard against the urge to climb up there and do some penny drops because when I was nine that the pinnacle of my life accomplishments so far, until I bore witness to my sister’s birth.

That was a crazy long sentence. Here is the tempting goal post.

Backtracking a little. I ran the three mile track first counter-clockwise, then clockwise, a true loop, but somehow (and I do not comprehend this whatsoever) the clockwise route was infinitely more difficult. Like uphill all the way, even though I know for sure the other direction boasts several little hills. Is that even possible? Help me understand this, super smart friends. It’s like the old, “back in my day I walked uphill to school both ways” thing, and I just. don’t. get it. But it drove me so crazy that for the remainder of the day I ran only counter-clockwise. My favorite direction anyway.

Problem (un) solved.

On the back end of the track is a semi-wooded creek area that is just lovely. Below is a photo. This year the creek is actually flowing with clear water, which is so nice, yay for rain! Scenes like this always remind of of the Bridge to Terebithia. Such a beautiful story, but so sad! Really sad. I started thinking about this and was boo-hoo crying out loud as I ran, possibly owing in part to the Peter Gabriel playing my trusty new earbuds, but anyway running and crying out loud in public is not cool. You know what, never-mind. I hate little creeks like this.

Have you ever noticed that people walking large dogs are generally very attentive, but people walking tiny dogs act like they just cannot be bothered with other people? Or leashes? Barring the boxer incident from last year, I tend to have much better luck encountering large dogs in public. Today all the chihuahuas and weenie dogs in the world seemed to be on my side of the sidewalk. And none of them were not interested in my ankles.

Something weird and wonderful happens on long runs, once you’ve firmly rededicated yourself: the first few miles are the hardest, ironically, then around the halfway point your body gets this light, buoyant, powerful feeling and maybe (if you’re like me) everything is funny. It feels not entirely unlike laughing gas. That’s a little weird to admit, but anyway today around miles 15 I experienced it. And it was a nice reprieve from crying about the Bridge to Terebithia.

Right after that moment of levity I stopped at my Jeep for water, which was both dwindling at this point and quite warm. But I didn’t care. Glug glug glug.

Then two miles later I was still so thirsty that a half empty gallon jug of water on the sidewalk tempted me. It was lidded, but crumpled, and as I said only half full, but still I wondered… How clean is it? Clean enough? I was so thirsty. The sweat on my technical fabric tank had dried into salty little rivulets. And salt was crusted on my breastbone and around my ears. I passed on the jug of water, but just barely.

It’s a lot of fun on long runs like this to repeatedly pass the same people going in the opposite direction. You only barely nod to each other, but it’s a nice, simple encouragement to keep going. Now… passing people going in the same direction? That’s even better. But totally selfish. Probably not that encouraging to the other runner.

At the end of the final lap i just jogged and walked back and forth for about half a mile then stretched. The amount of energy still in my legs was so surprising! It felt awesome. Thrilling. But holy smokes was I thirsty.

Aren’t these daffodils pretty?

Stopping at a nearby On Cue on the way back to the farm, I didn’t quite get my Jeep’s emergency brake in place, and some motorcycle cops next to me started yelling, “You’re rolling, you’re rolling!” I was super embarrassed.

Handsome and I arrived back at the farm within about ten minutes of each other, him exhausted from a crazy Monday and me just out of the shower (I had lots of dried sweat to scrub off). This knight in shining armor offered to go buy us a quick dinner instead of me grilling chicken outside as I’d planned. Yes please! I ordered my favorite southwest grilled chicken salad from McDonald’s AND a chicken sandwich on the side. Back at home I ate the sandwich first, forgetting I had the big salad too. When I saw it sitting there I was so happy I almost started crying. Nineteen-plus miles makes you hungry.

As I sit here the wet laundry is still in the dryer. Handsome and I will nibble some popcorn and watch a movie then call it a day. An awesome day, all told.

I still have two feet soles. In tact. And now I know I am ready for the April race.

Whew!

XOXOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm: connections

March 20, 2015

Happy happy happy Friday!! Oh man. What a Friday it has been around here, too. What a WEEK it has been!

As if being the first day of Spring AND a New Moon wasn’t enough, today we are enjoying this fantastic upswing in energy just at the end of some very hard working, emotional days and then a short but vicious sickness. All better now. Lots of good energy flowing now. So yeah, celebrating this particular Friday is awesome. Handsome and I feel accomplished, happy, loved, motivated, and hopeful about so many important things.

Despite the busy-ness of this past week, I realized this afternoon that it has been a great tiny little season of connection. And I’m so grateful for this. People are important, you know? Too often I stay too busy to put people first. Certainly I would like to have seen even more lovely faces, but I am choosing to count my blessings. These people enriched my world this week in ways that are becomeing more and more clear to me.

So for Friday 5 at the Farm, how about just a short list and a few photos?

Friday 5 at the Farm: Connections

Jocelyn: She is no longer here at the farm, but we have been connecting nonetheless. Facetiming, texting, Facebooking, and snap-chatting like fiends. And I love it. Do you know how fun and silly snap-chat is? Well, I am 41 years old and I am telling you it’s more fun than you’d think. You don’t have to take selfies, but you can, and the caption element is hysterical, especially when you’re dealing with a fun loving, witty nineteen year old girl. She sends the most well planned line of photos with serial captions, and I just laugh and laugh! LOL Mostly it’s wonderful seeing her face in random moments throughout the day. Seeing her happy is the best, and it really helps me feel her close. I hope the same is true for her. Below is a “snap” I sent to her this morning.

Marci: Marci is probably my best friend, hopefully for a lifetime. We haven’t known each other the longest, and we both stay too busy to see each other even weekly these days, but that’s okay. We relate to each other on such a deep and supportive level that sporadic, meaningful conversations are often exactly what what we need. And that’s what I got today, out of the blue. She is a mother whose heart I admire more than she’ll ever really know, and her words of wisdom to me in our new season of parenthood, well, they are priceless. She made me cry today in the happiest way. I lover her even though she’s not a hugger.

Halee: Halee is my sister-in-law who lives in California. She is also a dear dear friend of mine and has been for as long as she and my little brother have known each other. Halee and I had been playing text-tag for about two weeks, and finally today she caught up with me while I was running. She endured my weird heavy breathing so we could chat, and I was so refreshed at the end of our call that I ran faster than ever. She’s awesome. I can always count on her for a laugh, a bullet pointed conversation (if you know Halee you know what I’m talking about), and a bright cloud of happy, encouraging words, no matter what is going on! Speaking of things going on, she’s got plenty of her own troubles in life, but Halee is one of the most determined positive thinkers I know. Send her some rays of sunshine, ok? Because she’s constantly giving hers away.

Heather: Heather is a friend I have made through Facebook, sort of, although I have been friends in 3-D with her sister Tracy and her daughter Mysti for years. (Tracy and Mysti are in my book club too, woohoo!) Heather and I have an uncanny amount of things in common, and finally this week we found a mutual blank spot on our calendars and made a farm visit happen. She drove all the way out here to buy eggs and meet the animals for the first time, and she took a bunch of beautiful photos too. Below is just a phone snapshot I took of her. We have plans for her to come photograph things again once the proper greening up has happened. Heather is so sweet and fun, and I thoroughly enjoyed her company.

Mari: Mari is a fellow Oklahoma blogger whom I have only actually met in 3-D maybe three other times? Yet we’ve become pretty well acquainted online, as is the glorious nature of blogging. And I just love her! She is so smart and dry and easy. Really lovely. Today, again the official reason being fresh egg purchasing, she brought her two darling offspring as well as her friend and her friend’s granddaughter to the farm. They didn’t get to stay long, but we had the nicest conversations. The kids played with the animals and ran the back field and climbed trees and raced around the pond. The three of us women commiserated and had a pseuo-urban-flair dance party with Pacino. It was awesome. I truly can’t wait for them all to come back. Happy birthday to Mari’s son Spencer, by the way! On Sunday he enters the rough and tumble world of Teenager Land. And he’s gonna rule it.

How wonderful that despite a crunched calendar, some happy but still emotional family changes, a bout of sickness, and all the normal crazy pie filling that is farm life and marathon training, the universe blessed my week with these five happy connections. I am super duper grateful. And my soul is full. Ready to be spilled out again.

I’ll say it once more, if only to remind my task-oriented and slightly reclusive self, that people are the most important thing. Connections matter.They make all the work worthwhile. Amen.

What connections delighted you this week? Who has made your busy days sweeter and more fulfilling? Did you buy any fresh eggs or snap-chat anyone young and cool?

Turn Down for WHAT!
XOXOXOXO

P.S. Speaking of connections, below is Geoffrey our only male barn cat. He is such a lover. He has been Jeep-napping all week, and when Fancy Louise is outside he has been watching over her. Fancy Louise is that cuddly little hen who is in temporary convalescence, and she definitely appreciates Geoffrey’s time and affection. I can assure you this is platonic and safe. He has neither romantic nor carnivorous leanings toward our chickens. Geoffrey is a good boy.

dreams come true

March 17, 2015

When I was pregnant with her, I was only a couple of years older than she is today. That is a weird thought process all by itself. Month by month I dreamed of her face, sight unseen, and fell in love with her and all of her carefree somersaults and even my widening belly. She consumed my thoughts then, just as she does today. I was blessed with a truly healthy, happy, comfortable pregnancy, something I didn’t fully appreciate at the time.

I was in such a hurry to meet her that my doctor had no trouble convincing me to induce labor around our actual due date. He suggested it not for any particular medical reason; it just seemed to be a fad at the time. A practice of convenience. We both were healthy and she was full weight and well developed. He scheduled it, I prepared for it, and she was born without incident after a really easy labor. Still healthy and happy, and yet again I didn’t fully appreciate these blessings.

When she was finally born on a bright and cool afternoon in September, I was not at all surprised to see her wide ebony eyes, her tiny rosebud mouth, her profile, her perfect olive skin. Everything about her was exactly as I had seen in those sleeping dreams. She was a beautiful baby then, just as she is beautiful young woman now. I am still so grateful for those dreams that showed me her face ahead of time. She was imprinted on my heart in a million silent, priceless ways.

Looking back, so many parts of me wish I had allowed her birth to happen naturally, to experience unmedicated labor pains and the thrilling surprise, the curious timing of the miracle of life.

I wish I had let her arrive in her own way, at her own time.

Then this precious girl was gone for a while, for too many years, for reasons we are just beginning to fully understand. But she was never removed from my heart. Not even for one minute.

For a second time in our life together as mother and daughter, I found myself literally dreaming of her when I couldn’t see her. When I couldn’t touch her, hear her voice, or smell her vanilla-shampooed hair. In her long, sad absence these past years, I would sleep roughly but often catch phantom glimpses of her face in my dreams. Those same ebony eyes, her same small rosebud mouth, that same perfect olive skin that just glows. In this new set of dreams, instead of appearing as the infant I’d not yet held, she was appearing as her grown self or sometimes as a ten year old version of herself, whispering to me the secret that she was soon coming home. She was not just happy in these prophecied moments; she was giddy. Effervescent with joy. I would try so hard to stay asleep and whisper back to her all my love and longing, to cling to those stolen moments. But every time of course I’d wake up to the raw reality that she was still gone.

I Saw You Last Night

My baby in kindergarten. I remember thinking then how grown up she was.

Do you know how wonderful God is? How far-reaching His Love is? He has seen into my heart all these nineteen years, the regret I have harbored over planning her birth and missing out on the dazzling unknown of His design. He took her away from me for a while only to bring her home, in surprising and unpredictable ways. During her absence He showed me when to push and when to rest; He taught me how to breathe deeply and fruitfully and when to wait. He showed me through those waiting years how constant and powerful Love is. He forced me (kicking and screaming at first) into a place of trust and kept me there until I wanted to trust, until that was my genuine and natural position. In time I became both vulnerable and strong.

It turns out He was working this complex miracle in her as well.

(Have you followed my discipline with the Worry Door?)

Then one day she finally arrived (again). Quite out of the blue, in the surprising, thrilling, somewhat terrifying way she might have been born the first time had I allowed it to happen naturally. One day this past September (almost exactly nineteen years since her first birth) I got the overwhelming phone call that was very much like a rebirth. She was free, and she was coming home.

She showed her pretty face for the second time in my life, exactly as I had been dreaming of her while she was away.

This strong, beautiful girl has possessed a slice of my heart and soul for almost twenty years now, and that will never change. This is just the beginning. I am once more living every promise of motherhood and every hope. We are seeing that not only is time elastic; Love is sovereign.

It’s mid-March now. Six months after her rebirth when she finally arrived in her own way, at her own time. She is peeling away from me and pressing close again, over and over, this time in the best possible, most natural ways. Finding her own legs and learning to walk (again). Squeezing me tight and boring into my eyes with hers (again). Letting me feed her mightily because it satisfies us both (again).

Making me proud beyond description. Always.

Thank you, friends, for every single prayer and every positive thought and word of encouragement you’ve offered, especially when you didn’t really know what was happening. She amazes us daily. She is on a good, strong path today, chasing her own joy and pursuing her own dreams, just exactly like a nineteen year old girl should do. And because of this she continues to benefit from prayer and Loving energy, so please keep it up.

Love is so real. Prayer absolutely changes things. And natural processes best. Don’t force it.

Fear knocked at the door.
Faith answered.
And lo, no one was there.
~Author Unknown
XOXOXOXO

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