Lazy W Marie

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

You are here: Home / Archives for memories

the mitt romney-law of attraction-high fever-skeptical husband story

One day back in the winter of 1883, during a blizzard and on the verge of a cannibalistic tragedy, an over-stimulated and under-challenged middle aged woman started reading a slew of books that altered her perception of the universe. Her eyes were flung open to new, exciting possibilities and she thrust this shiny new pseudo-knowledge on everyone nearby, whether they liked it or not. While milking the goats, while gathering eggs, while traversing the snowy peaks and dodging hungry settlers, she preached the gospel of the Law of Attraction and started to manipulate her own reality. It was magical.

lights

Not really, it was only me, and it was actually quite pleasant weather during the late fall of 2012, and while fresh eggs were plentiful then, we were happily free of cannibals at the Lazy W. But that got you imagining a cold and bleak setting, right? And the driving force of a new line of thinking?

Okay.

It started innocently enough with a book , which led to voracious reading on the internet and a few other related titles about the Law of Attraction, about the power of imagination and how meditation can fuel your prayers. I scoffed a little, I learned a little, and I experimented. Tested the waters. Prayed about it, actually. I compared this new philosophical material to what I already knew and believed about the Bible (my personal foundation of faith) and I just kind of… thought about it for a long time. I searched my own memory to see if it could be true. Had my mind been manifesting things into my actual three-dimensional life? Is that completely wonky, or is it possible?

Do you remember that “aha Moment” video?

Okay.

Let’s just bookmark all of that. I pinky promise to get back to it eventually, with concrete, important information, all kinds of adult thinky stuff.

Today I want to tell you a story about me in a fevered stupor, the Law of Attraction, Mitt Romney (remember him?), and my sweet, skeptical, doting husband. Grab some cocoa with marshmallows and prepare to text BW if you have his number.

sadromney sticker

It was early December, almost exactly three years ago, in fact, as I write this. The presidential election was over and cooling. Romney was sad. I was laid up in bed for a few days with an increasingly difficult flu or something equally temporary but incurable. I remember our big, soft bed was oriented against the east wall of our bedroom, not the south wall where we have it now. It was a dark morning, pitch black, and my fever was raging. It was that awful sweaty-shaking kind of sick that makes me nauseous just remembering it. Handsome had been taking really good care of me; he is gentle and attentive and good at condescending to the bed ridden, so I had been pampered. But on this morning he absolutely had to leave me to drive to the city and do Commish things. He was dressed in suit pants and a button down shirt. He smelled shower fresh and was so good looking even in the dark, even with my fever-cooked eyeballs barely open to see him. All week we had been volleying back and forth my new found ideas about magnetic thought (we disagreed to say the least). That morning I had one last chance before he left for the office to convince him of the things floating around my scattered brain. I desperately wanted him on board with me:

“I mean it, Brand, I think this stuff is real. I think if you think about something enough it will happen. What do you think?” So much thinking.

“Babe, no. It’s not real. Mitt Romney wanted to be President real bad and it just didn’t work out for him.” My husband favors clear cut ideas over well executed adverbs.

Check mate? Not even close. But this gentle rebuttal almost made me cry. I remember sitting halfway up to literally grip my husband’s lapels and say earnestly, to his face, glassy eyes flung open now, “He just didn’t want it bad enough!” I’m sure my fever breath was super sexy.

My husband of (at that time) eleven years gently loosed my cold, sweaty fists from his lapels, checked for wrinkles, then tucked me back beneath our billowy comforter. He smoothed my hair and stage whispered, “None of this is real. Now just go to sleep.” Like he was comforting a child who had just woken up from a nightmare! As if!!

He went to work. I fell into a fitful, fevered sleep. He came home frOm work, and I mentioned neither Romney nor the Law of Attraction again that week. I did, however, with some measure of silent pride, make a mental note that I had been imagining in detail his homecoming that day. It happened exactly as I expected.

Bingo.

Okay, friends. Here is where your texting invitation comes in: Please let my sweet but too skeptical husband know whether you are in his camp or mine. Have you ever had an experience with manifesting your thoughts/prayers/hopes/worries into reality? Do you think Mitt Romney is to be blamed for losing that election? Spill your smart guts.

Thanks as always for checking in.

You guys are the best.

XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

i love people who… (thanksgiving edition)

I love people who set the table with formal precision, using place cards and evenly spaced forks and multiple wine glasses. This makes their guests feel fancy and loved.

I also love people who buy colorful harvest-themed paper plates and serve the meal on TV trays to save that dishes-washing time for extra cuddling later. This makes their guests feel relaxed and loved.

I love people who fold linen napkins into amazing designs and also people who spin stacks of paper napkins into silly little spiral towers.

I love people who get a thrill from cooking the entire meal alone, to serve their loved ones in one grand gesture.

And I love people who divvy up the menu, throwing caution to the wind, and eat everything anybody brings.

I love people who make reservations at restaurants and spend every spare minute talking face to face with their people then tip their waitstaff generously as a holiday gift.

Folks who order full traditional meals from boutique grocers? Love those folks.

I once worked at the bank with a woman who had been so poor as a young, single Mom that for Thanksgiving one year all she could afford was a Spam and canned vegetables. She added what she could to the Spam, served it, and counted her blessings. I think of her every single year while I am planning and cooking way too much food. I love her and her story.

I love people who buy a stack of frozen pie crusts on sale in August then thaw them in November and fill them with canned fruit fillings, and I obviously love people who spend hours mixing their own fats and flours to get the perfect flaky crusts then fill them with peeled fruits they probably grew at home.

I love people who fall asleep watching the Thanksgiving Day parade, and I love people who go on nature hikes while the turkey roasts.

I love people who insist on playing football during the Thanksgiving party, or watching it on television, and I love people who write complicated toasts for their people no matter how botched they end up every yea (me)r.

Some families are good at discussing hot button political topics over stuffing and pumpkin pie. Others wisely eschew this minefield and get really familiar with each other’s day to day life instead. I love it all. (Have you seen the SNL skit yet where they use the new Adele song to dissuade an explosive family fight?)

I love people who deep fry their turkeys just as much as I love those who roast it the same way every year, using Grandma’s pan and secret method. I love people who brine the bird and people who brown bag it.

I love the canned-cranberry-jelly citizens out there in Thanksgiving Land, and I love my grandmother’s raw citrus-cranberry relish and all who love that along with me.

Some people search out every traditional family recipe they can find, and others reach for a more global, cosmopolitan vibe for the Turkey Day menu. Still others (like the Snapp family we know and love) opt for their own unique tradition of steaks and baked potatoes. I love all of these people. Maybe especially the Snapps.

My friend Carmel was the Indian to my Pilgrim way back in 6th grade, for a church pageant. I still wear this apron. xoxo
My friend Carmel was the Indian to my Pilgrim way back in 6th grade, for a church pageant. I still wear this apron. xoxo

The different ways that people celebrate this pretty cool holiday are just delightful. I so enjoy looking around and noticing that, for all our homogenization and structure (and retail saturation), we can be a pretty imaginative and various culture. We are good at honoring our roots while growing our wings. And that is beautiful.

This Thanksgiving, enjoy your details, whatever they may be. Celebrate your traditions and your quirks. Love your people harder than ever. That’s my advice. And give some thanks, actively. It matters.

Very Happy Thanksgiving to You and Yours
from The Lazy W, Oklahoma
XOXOXOXO

 

letting go, change is good, and a waterfall in africa

After twenty one years of motherhood (I am being generous here and including the pregnancy months), I have reached the conclusion that our children’s life stages have more to do with us, the parents, being ready to let go than with our children being ready to move on. Yes, of course there is the preparation and the skill set building. The growth and the strengthening. But I believe it is harder on us for them to leave than the other way around. Our instincts are all wired for this, so it has to be true. That is my thesis statement, and I am sticking to it.

She left in March, remember? And I thought she would be home by September and we would get back to our shopping and our cooking lessons. I thought we would be talking about college perhaps or who knows what, just here in Oklahoma, haha. She did come home, of course, but only for a week around her birthday. And she brought a boy. The same sweet boy I met when I visited her in June. And then they were gone again. And now she is off pursuing her own joy and blazing her own trails. Feathering her own nest, as nature commands.

I snapped this at the peak of Old Man, moments after the three of us reached it. These two led the way that day. They pointed out the footholds. They laughed and ran and climbed and worried for me and encouraged me. Quite an amazing little role reversal on a gorgeous mountain in Colorado. I will never in my life forget this day. xoxo
I snapped this at the peak of Old Man in Estes Park, moments after the three of us reached it. It was quite a little rock scramble. These two led the way that day. They pointed out the footholds. They laughed and ran and climbed and worried for me and encouraged me. It was an amazing, loving little role reversal on a gorgeous mountain in Colorado. I will never in my life forget this day. xoxo

I have had a different idea of how things might go, but that has been true since the beginning. Since before she was born. And you know what? No matter how different the details have been, it all has been pretty wonderful. In so many ways, life has been far better than how I would have designed it all by myself.

Which is not to say that my deepest wishes and wildest imaginations have been neglected. Not by a long shot. Plenty of the visions I had before she was born have come to fruition. And looking back over the past 15 years, especially just these past 15 months, I can say with a trembling sort of confidence that our prayers are always being heard. So make them really, really good but keep an open heart about what else might happen.

Without a doubt, life is big and beautiful and full of amazing surprises, and life goes on even when we are quite off course from where we expected to be.

For these reasons I am no longer really afraid of change. So many surprises in life just turn out for the best. I occasionally get nostalgic for the past, or for the unfulfilled longings of motherhood or just life in general, but I try not to nurse those wounds too much. Instead, I just acknowledge the feelings then actively focus on the blessings right in front of me. When I compare those little losses to the big, miraculous ways life has actually been happening? It is amazing. It is just unreal how much God leads and guides and protects us, despite ourselves.

Let’s rephrase this to be a little more real, a little less preachy:

It is amazing how much God has been leading and guiding and directing my life and protecting me, despite my mistakes. Despite my shortcomings. Despite my failures and weaknesses. It is amazing how generous He has been with my prayer requests, despite my worrying mind.

A friend once posed this question: What if all of your dreams came true? What you got every single one of your wishes? 

A big reason I am no longer really afraid of change is that the Universe seems to have so much better in store than what I have been asking of it. Letting go is difficult, and change sometimes hurts for a while, but thank goodness for the explosion of growth. Thank goodness for the renewal available to us all the time, if we choose it. Thank goodness for all those thrilling surprise blessings that we didn’t even know were possible.

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

For the past few nights I have fallen asleep listening to the most luscious program about the extreme corners of the earth and the people and animals who survive there. It has been a soothing and stimulating way to fill and empty my brain before rest. One segment was about the Zambezi River and Victoria Falls in Zimbabwe. These are the largest waterfalls in the world, and they are stunning.

(photo credit to http://victoriafallstourism.org/victoria-falls-photos/)
(photo credit to http://victoriafallstourism.org/victoria-falls-photos/)

The world is full of awe-inspiring natural wonders, and if you loved your journey through Africa, Australia is another captivating destination to explore. Its diverse landscapes, from vibrant coral reefs to vast deserts, offer unique experiences for every traveler. A journey through the country’s rugged terrain reveals a world of surprises, like the majestic Blue Mountains Waterfalls, where cascading waters create a tranquil ambiance amidst the dramatic cliffs. The area is rich in ancient rainforests and indigenous history, making it a perfect blend of natural beauty and cultural depth.

What got my attention even more than the sight is the geological history. The falls empty into a deep, wide gorge which didn’t exist before a diverted flow of the river eroded the rock there. The rock just collapsed, and the wide, powerful river followed. I cannot remember exactly how the narrator phrased this long process, but it churned my heart up.

Water. Just water, in its natural state, moving energetically and following its own path and purpose, over time dramatically altered the face of the earth. And then it kept on being water and was, one day, this magnificent, complex, dangerous and beautiful waterfall.

The original river must have been beautiful enough. But what if we had never seen this waterfall?

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

My Dad has always joked that once a baby learns to walk, it’s all over. He’s right. And with this joke he is gently acknowledging that this new skill opens up the world to that baby, including Colorado Rocky Mountains and waterfalls in Zimbabwe.

So, yes- change is okay. Change is good. Roll with it. Let your children go when the time comes. Trust that Love has both you and them in a firm, safe grip. Abandon control and “shoulds” a little bit and watch for amazing surprises along the way. And pray always. Persistently. Be like that river and change the face of the earth with your prayers.

Wishing you all the very best surprises life has to offer.
XOXOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm: stormy day photos

Thursday brought some crazy weather to Oklahoma. A lightning quick (get it?) and rather violent storm hit the farm suddenly in the middle of the afternoon. The morning’s flannel grey skies turned black. The warm, humid air turned icy cold. And all those fallen oak leaves twirled upward in spirals and autumnal confetti bursts. Rain flooded the middle field in just moments and ran in a silver-white, frothing stream downhill. The pond churned like a tiny ocean. Our east facing barn doors were blown out, or maybe the horses broke them out? It’s hard to say.

fri5 rain c

fri5 chanta wet c

fri5 meh wet c

Then the storm passed as suddenly as it had arrived. The skies calmed. Half-hearted thunder and thread-thin cracks of lightning kept me watching the skies for a few more hours, but overall the farm was quiet. I returned the horses to their field, consoled the agitated llama, and texted photos of the barn doors to my husband.

By evening, the air was so sweet. Clean and sweet, rinsed out and blown through by the storm. Settled. Fog appeared between the trees and above the grass in cottony streaks, filling every dip and corner with opaque white. It was a stunning kind of quiet. I adore the way fog muffles everything, and I think evening fog is an especially nice gift.

fri5 klaus fog east c

Klaus played and romped around in the gentle dusk while I watched Handsome repair the barn doors. Then he (Klaus, not my husband) appeared from behind the giant hay bales, smelling like sage bush. I imagined he was a small, Spanish-speaking werewolf, which may in fact be the case.

When the farm is so drenched in magic like this I cannot fix my eyes on one thing. Neither my mind. I want to collect all the details and force them into some kind of permanence. Which is silly, of course, because a big part of magic is that it is fleeting, elusive. So instead I hope to at least remember how pink the eastern sky was as the moon rose and how the pine trees vibrated with fragrance. I hope to remember how hard my husband worked to fix the barn doors, at the end of an exhausting day at his real job. I hope to think about this storm, its suddenness, and how grateful I am that no animals were hurt.

fri5 fog c

Storms come and go, and everything is beautiful and weird.

XOXOXOXO

 

mud monsters & pain management

In barely any time at all the middle field was slicked down, shiny wet and marshy. I looked down and saw the shattered concrete growing moss right before my eyes, chartreuse and emerald blooms and billows exaggerated in a time lapse that stunned me into fresh tears. The Signature of All Things echoing echoing echoing.

Toward the willow tree rainwater ran downhill, washing away all the day’s good intentions but also a hefty measure of regret. Fair exchange.

trough c

Then the curtain of rain pulled away and revealed filmy, wavering images of my girls splashing in the mud and wearing both t-shirts and sundresses, galoshes and ball caps, my husband’s green soccer jersey from his own childhood. My little Mud Monsters, shrieking and giggling at the sky, braiding their skinny arms together, knowing their mother was watching but not knowing then that she’d never forget that moment. They clawed at the air with their pink and olive Mud Monster hands and bared their pearly white baby teeth and smiled at me then disappeared with that same wavering, filmy trick.

The wind was weirdly absent during this rain and I needed it to sweep my thoughts away. Desperately needed it to comb through my troubled brain. I craved a storm instead of such a terrible, gentle shower and walked to the barn hoping for some tin-roof white noise. It  smelled like horses and hay and ozone. The cats twirled my blue jean-covered legs. One reluctant clap of thunder.

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

Sometimes people tell us to count our blessings, it could always be worse. True enough. Other people say, pain is pain, no one has a right to measure one pain against another. Also true.

Sending lots of love to all my friends who are hurting tonight, for any reason. The sun will shine bright and true again, in its own time. Rain has its place. Let it fall. Let it nourish you.

XOXOXOXO