Lazy W Marie

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

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stormy skies & a calm heart

This morning Handsome took Klaus and Lincoln outside a little ahead of me, knowing I had slept roughly or not quite enough. More heavy dreaming. When I eventually joined them on the south lawn with two cups of Perfect Coffee, the dogs rewarded me with much bouncing and circle running and more of those snoot-to-tail grins. I sat on the steps of the hot tub while my guy soaked in the chlorine-scented water. We drank coffee and played with the brothers. My heart relaxed and I stretched my bare legs in the fresh air.

The winds were calmer than yesterday’s, but the skies dark blue and thick grey, clouds low and heavy. We could smell the damp earth and promised storms.

Radishes are fully grown and popping out of the dirt. Romaine lettuces taking shape slowly, Hail Caesar. Kale rough and bumpy, deeply hued. Vines of squash and blackberry in different raised beds now boast those first tight buds that will become blossoms that will become fruit. Even the small Three Sisters bed is suddenly dotted with sprouts of corn, green beans, and squash.

Oklahoma had a slow start to springtime. We all analyzed the weather together every day, nervously. We traded coats for jackets and jackets for shorts and then scrambled for coats again. We planted our gardens and protected them from frost. We lost a few things and mourned them. Planted more things, grew seeds in the safety and secrecy of warm garages with artificial light. Many days even I felt the optimism was too forced. How many times did I insist, “This is it, it’s here now, we can relax!”

But it really is here now, this fresh new springtime, this burst of life for which we have all been yearning. And already it’s almost summer.

That’s Oklahoma.

And that’s life.

Everything stays the same and we suffer through and hang on and encourage each other, believing ahead of time that things will change, that the Hard Stuff will get easier or lift away completely. We do everything we can to pave the way for miracles, celebrating ahead of time. Or we focus on getting stronger, on improving our coping skills and defenses against the elements.

But the Hard Stuff persists. None of it is on our schedule, no matter how we think things ought to be. We can rail against it all we want, these maddening delays and painful losses, but that only makes us angry and bitter.

And then one day it just happens. Life springs forth and all the seeds we have been planting grow into treasures more beautiful than we had dared hope. Some of the perennials, the life ornaments which we have learned to trust and treasure, unfurl and bloom more lushly than before. Still here with us. Just waiting for the right day. We have no control.

Thank you for reading, friends! Time for me to wrap up some morning chores and housework so I can get my miles in and scoot to the city for a day of gardening with my youngest.

You may already understand what a miracle this is in my life, if you know our family’s story. This time last year I was still protecting this particular hope secretly, in the safety of private prayer and hope and what some would call artificial growing conditions. Waiting, believing, despite the weather reports. The miracle was not on my schedule, but it was certainly worth waiting for. And now it is unfurling and blooming more lushly than ever.

I believe the same will prove true for much more in all our lives.

I wish you all the best as your springtime takes hold. I wish you the best warmth and nourishment, the best resilience, the best blooms and fruits after so many long winters. 

“You may encounter many defeats,
but you must not be defeated.
In fact, it may be necessary to encounter the defeats,
so you can know who you are,
what you can rise from,
how you can still come out of it.”
~Maya Angelou
XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

may 1: the why of what we want, some daily life tidbits, & 2 lists

Welcome to a blog post wherein I hope to play a little catch-up on daily life as well as highlight some things that are really glowing hot and bright inside of me. I am so glad you checked in today, thank you! I always appreciate your presence here, your comments below and on social media or email, and your friendship. I promise to respond to everything and I promise to write more regularly in May. Lots happening at the Lazy W!

This past weekend we enjoyed a heavy dose of spectacular spring weather. Warm temperatures, abundant sunshine and dazzling blue skies, just a trace breeze. Perfect. We stayed outside as much as possible and accomplished several good, worthwhile tasks around the farm. After physically crossing off the line items on a paper list, I added that scrap of paper to our 2018 memories jar so we could savor it all again on New Year’s Eve. It was that satisfying.

We also tried to walk around the OKC Festival of the Arts but found it way too crowded for the level of relaxation we needed that particular day. Some days are for the public, some days are not. We stopped for a late lunch of Tex-Mex instead. Back at home, I carried a book I’m reading out to the south lawn near the new raised veggie beds, added several cushions to a reclining chair, and propped up my bare feet. Sublime. That day was our first motorcycle ride together for many months, too. We enjoyed all of it.

(I’m reading The Handmaid’s Tale, finishing it up today or tomorrow, so we can start watching season two soon. Book review coming!)

Please enjoy the above random collection of necessities like a giant coffee mug, clean running socks, and a packet of sunflower seeds for growing, not eating.

Remembering the why of what we want, as my friend Brittany recently directed me to consider. I want sunshine and stillness and verdant surroundings. Inspiration and words. Sensual stuff. Bare skin, white as it is. Colors, textures, flavors. New things. Old things cleaned up. Assurances of love between those most precious to me, hope for the future of our little family. Time with our friends and a sense of real and lasting contribution. Art! So much art. Slowly prepared food that really feels good when you eat it. Conversation. Artful, interesting, thought-provoking conversation. Endorphins and sweat, soreness. Goals worth working for. A sense of calm and completion. 

These are the things I chase each weekend, and as often as possible in the days in between. This past weekend was a win. 

On Sunday evening we tried to take advantage of the perfect weather by driving a fun car to the city, but our idea was thwarted by mechanical difficulties. Add that to the list of things that need attention, but it’s no big deal.

We have settled into a pleasant tension between work and play. And between mental work and physical work, too, the latter of which being a welcome release for my husband. He values more and more the satisfaction of seeing his efforts made manifest visibly after a long week of phone calls, meetings, emails, and other stressful but not always clearly fruitful efforts. You know? Office dwellers can surely relate to this. And yes to the good feeling of doing any job thoroughly, slowly, and well. No rush, when possible.

The reason for our drive to the city Sunday evening was to join a handful of other married couples for a monthly “Small Group” dinner. We have been attending since around Christmastime, and we love it. It’s very casual. And very nourishing. Our friends Mickey and Kellie invited us to join the group, which is hosted by Gary and Stephani and includes two other wonderful couples. We are all from different backgrounds and ages, different church associations, and different marital histories. Just different people! I love it! The group is patchwork, yet somehow it feels designed.

We meet one Sunday each month for a meal which our very gracious hosts plan and to which we all contribute. (I now get so excited for Stephani’s Friday afternoon texts about what she’s serving that coming weekend! I love to host friends in our home, and I also love being a guest!)

Stephani always has a gorgeous and seasonal centerpiece on her dining room table (my favorite so far has to be Valentine’s Day). This month, capitalizing on the weather, we ate on their deck. The centerpiece was edible and just so good. 

We eat great food, catch up on life, and trade prayer requests and testimonies about how God has been moving. This group of friends feels safe and warm. Smart and intuitive. Handsome and I have already shared with them pretty openly our family struggles of late, and we know that they pray for us in between our dinners. We certainly pray for them too, and we are becoming emotionally attached to their lives.

Side note: Kellie has ruined me for any kale salad that does not contain goat cheese and pickled mustard seeds.

We discuss Bible verses affectionately, not in a cold or authoritative way. We lift each other up, and everyone seems to leave feeling better than before, vessels filled and strong. 

If the gathering could be a flavor or food of its own, it might be a warm-from-the-oven sour-apple tart with a firm shortbread crust and thinly sliced fruit, lots of cinnamon. The tart would be crowned with melting vanilla ice cream. Sweet and salty, warm and cool, flavorful and filling, substantial. Not a dessert that disappears too quickly. And the thing you look forward to eating slowly, on a special occasion. A dish you have plenty of to share with your loved ones, too, and you probably do not need a recipe to make it. Just time, a few supplies, and lots of love.

Like loaves and fishes, which happens to be what started a great conversation this past weekend. Storms brewing and unconditional trust like your eyes are closed on a rollercoaster and loving God for His character, not just the gifts He lavishes on us. But remembering His works, too. Reminding each other how good and faithful He is. Of His abundance.

This small cutie is Magdalene, our hosts’ miracle daughter and without a doubt the darling of Small Group. She and Handsome shared dry cheese, prosciutto, and flat crackers on the deck just before the wind kicked up to illustrate the stormy sea parable. She also offered him olives and tiny fist-scoops of guacamole, which he accepted then stealthily did not eat. Can we all pause to appreciate that a toddler has a wider range of tastes than my husband? Okay.

And her curls and eyes?? My goodness.

Lincoln, Klaussen’s brother I am sure you remember, came to the farm last night. Too much time had passed since our last Shepp slumber party, and we all are enjoying a really happy reunion. All of Tuesday so far has been spent alternating between several enthralling activities.

List #1, German Shepherd Brothers’ Daily Agenda:

  • Cuddling each other
  • Rough-housing with each other
  • Seeing who can be closest to Mom/Lady (that’s what Lincoln calls me, he calls Handsome “Fella”)
  • Chasing but not hurting the cats
  • Running dangerously close to the horses
  • Putting on a show involving fetch apparatus but not actually fetching anything
  • Eating waffles and other treats 
  • Eschewing dog food in favor of said treats
  • High-step prancing around the yard
  • Sniffing the chickens
  • Sitting on Mom’s/Lady’s feet while she types
  • Jumping on the bed as it is being made
  • Watering the gardens and peeing on all the blackberry vines (separate activities)
  • Getting brushed outdoors
  • Doing battle with the vacuum sweeper
  • Napping
  • Smiling from head to tail
  • More napping
  • Welcoming Dad/Fella home with unbridled enthusiasm
  • Aforementioned continued napping
  • Waiting for treats based on the fragrance of dinner cooking  for the parents

I hope Linc gets to stay several days. We love him so much.

My sourdough starter experiment continues (you can see most of these in Instagram stories). Last week I tried a new slicing-bread recipe that called for warm milk instead of water to activate the yeast, plus extra yeast, and the final product was indescribably soft with a tender crust. So good for mopping up runny egg yolks at breakfast.

Last night I mixed up some batter for overnight waffles and cooked them up early this morning. That was a success too! I am collecting all the recipes I’ve tried this past month and will write a blog post just about that soon. If you have a favorite use for sourdough starter, please send it my way! This is so much fun.

I have been dreaming heavily again. Last week I dreamed I was visiting a group of elderly men and women, a scene not unlike one from the movie Cocoon, and they were all so excited to be moving to the Dallas area. Dressed in floral shirts and visors, they were giddy with excitement to be leaving soon. I told them my Grandpa had just moved to Dallas and that I missed him so much. In the dream, I was crying inconsolably. This put a serious damper on the mood as one by one they considered who would miss them after they left town. I woke up sobbing.  

Last night I had an unsettling but still encouraging (I choose to see it this way) dream about Jocelyn. I can barely articulate it. But I know that God is moving. The sensations are familiar. The dream had to do with readiness and surprise, with changes of location and the false appearance of things, especially social media. 

Whew! So many feelings!

Today around lunchtime I kicked off the new month with 8-ish miles, mostly on trails. My hormones are dipping low today and the winds are crazy high, so it was a struggle but still refreshing. That’s how running sometimes is, and I love that! It feels great even when (especially when!) it’s hard.

I’m not sure yet how far I will run this month, as I have two fun trips on the calendar; but I was happy with how March and April fleshed out, all things considered. I am healthy and uninjured and very happy in my legs and belly and heart and mind, all the places that matter. I am at that place of feeling grateful for every mile and for all of my running friends and the inspiration and support they share. More on that soon!

Which brings me to List #2, Favorite Podcasts Lately, which I save for slow easy days like today:

  • Run Eat Repeat
  • I’ll Have Another with Lindsey Hines
  • Oprah Super Soul
  • Run to the Top
  • My Seven Chakras 

By the way, today is the first day of a new month (doesn’t it feel like we have been waiting on May forever?), and the moon was recently full and those energies are so powerful, and my heart is brimming, spilling over really, with gratitude.

I have to sign off for now. Tomorrow just might be spent gardening with Jessica, which is obviously very exciting! She has grown a little since this gardening photo:

Sweet sleep. friends. I would love to know what blessings you’re counting tonight, what magic the full moon is delivering in your world.

“Despite knowing they won’t be here for long,
they still choose to live
their brightest lives.”
~Rupi Kaur
XOXOXOXO

fractals again, joy beyond imagination, and LOVE

Just six weeks into the new year and already so much has changed. Stuff on every front. Amazing.

Life can serve up shock and grief, deep despair, in a moment; and it can transform for the better just as suddenly.

Or maybe none of these changes are as sudden as we think. Maybe we just finally see things a certain way, all at once.

I have been watching piecemeal a three-part Netflix series called “The Code,” just in twenty or thirty minutes bursts while ironing, organizing the Apartment, etcetera. It’s all about mathematical and borderline mystical patterns in the Universe. Mostly what perks up my ears is the talk of shape-patterns in nature. One episode explores fractals in a way I had never heard before. It explains how this expansive, repeating design builds the most complex systems and finished objects we take for granted. A branch grows until it stops to sprout a new network of twigs, then each of those twigs does the same, over and over again. Trees, coral, even blood vessels. Mountain ranges, roots systems, so much. And the program features human applications, too. Like the celebrated 20th-century painter Jackson Pollock (his art was not so random after all) as well as the man who cracked the fractal code and changed animation technology forever (Pixar).

I can’t help but apply this “shape” to human relationships. Social and family patterns. Addictions. Just all aspects of culture that we learn and pass on. Exponentially.

Okay.

Remember when fractals were the thing to discuss back after reading The Shack for the first time? The Holy Spirit character was a female gardener who laid out these spacious, dense, repeating, confusing, soothing, perfect gardens. They felt messy up close, chaotic, formless. But stepping back and seeing the patterns revealed all the grand design. A gentle swirl, concentric rings of growth and beauty. Those gardens are each of our lives or souls, depending on how you apply the metaphor.

It’s just so comforting.

Remember?

That is a book worth reading twice.

Right now I am reading for the second time A Return to Love and just devoured half a chapter all about the Holy Spirit. It presses me gently to remember all the ways God has revealed beauty in chaos. That sweet, still voice He has, the peace that passes understanding He offers. His whispers about using my imagination for good and being okay with the meandering.

These words really jumped off the page:

The Holy Spirit is a bridge back to gentle thoughts, the great transformer of perception. The Comforter.

However life changes year to year, day to day, I am so grateful that God’s voice never does. So thankful that He remains gentle and steady. Just pure, powerful LOVE. 

We are witnessing miracles, no doubt about it.

Miracles at work, on every side of my husband. I am so proud of him and his contributions to Oklahoma and the utility industries. I am so thankful for everything he leads his team to do. So humbled by how far God will go to protect and bolster every effort. 

Miracles in my family. I cannot wait for you to hear more about my sister Angela and read what she has learned about Love and Fear. She has a big week coming up and I am so happy to be part of that with her and her girls! I’ll post more on that, maybe on IG. 

Miracles here at the farm, stuff as small and routine as noticing an early spring to the mammoth joy of sensing the fruition of why we built all of this in the first place. Purpose fulfilled is a thrilling miracle.

Miracles with our children and their wide-reaching family. The past few weeks have shocked us with a kind of peace and joy that most people would not have guessed was possible. But here we are, relaxed and bonded and moving forward into new life chapters.

Miracles for Jessica specifically. She is seeing the fruits of her labors, and I can’t get enough of how beautiful she is clothed in joy.

Miracles for Jocelyn, perceived in some private maternal ways I can barely articulate, details that my friend Mickey would describe as “post-it notes from God.” I treasure every single one. 

Joc cutting me some wild sage, on the last day of my first trip to visit her in Colorado. Fractal upon fractal in this photo. Hope upon hope.

Today is bursting with special opportunities. First, we get to host brunch for Jess and her boyfriend and join in a fun memory in her life. Later I will bake some focaccia and we will spend the evening with a handful of other married couples, discussing God and relationships and eating great food. 

Lots of farm activity and romance in between it all. Never once ceasing in prayer for Jocelyn and other people weighing heavily on our hearts.

Then we will come home together again, safe and happy and secure in Love. This itself is a special opportunity. 

Every encounter, every circumstance can be used by Him for His purposes. He uses Love to create more Love, and He responds to fear as a call for Love.

What I want to stress to you, really, is that Love is working for us. Love is dissolving every fear that once terrified and paralyzed us. Love is burning away all the fog. Lighting up all the dark corners of this life. And because everything is revealing so beautifully, all the details are so constantly surprising us, the ongoing mystery is kind of fun. I find myself no longer fretting over the unknowns but rather breathing deeply, sometimes giggling, and thinking, “I wonder what God has in store for this!” 

“I want to know God’s thoughts.
The rest are details.”
~Albert Einstein
XOXOXOXO

 

 

 

six short stories on saturday night

#1: A few warm, sunny days this past week really got my heart going pitter-patter for springtime, however far away it might truly be. The hens are laying again, the honeybees have been buzzing around on fresh breezes, and my first seed order should arrive soon. I walk around the farm every day and still see lots of dry, sepia winter scenes, but in my mind’s eye, everything is verdant already and bursting with kaleidoscope color, vibrating with new life. As I type this paragraph we are bundled up in the warmest room of the house, debating the wisdom of hot coffee so close to sunset. Which is becoming later each day, I have to add. 

#2: Jessica spent the past few days with us at the farm, and she blended in so naturally. She has a way of making the gorgeous weather even more springlike. It felt like the old days, but better. On Friday she and I spent many hours together between the kitchen and the barn and the possibility-filled gardens, talking and laughing about everything old and new. She and Klaus became seriously good buddies. She and Handsome discussed car purchases and adult life. She and I (mostly she) produced a big batch of delicious soft pretzels plus a cozy family dinner of salmon cakes and all the good sides. We all watched a movie together and studied for her upcoming exam. This beautiful girl-now-a-woman has exciting plans and is brimming with all the best things about being twenty years old. We are just thrilled and grateful to be included in her life right now. Overnight, our weather turned frigid cold again, bringing us a grey and dull Saturday morning, but her presence in this house warmed it up. Her boyfriend joined us all for a late breakfast of waffles with all the trimmings, another meal which she made perfectly. We really enjoyed his company, too, and is there anything more fun than seeing your child in love? All of this beauty, and still bigger miracles are growing up around us. Things I will write about soon. 

Have you made these yet?

#3: I have for the second time cracked open A Return to Love by Marianne Williamson and am, well, in love with it all over again. Her preface gripped me this time as though she had written it, especially for Jocelyn. (Thank you for your continued prayers and the gentle stream of love notes, friends.) In a few weeks, I will join two wonderful girlfriends to listen to the author speak, a miniature book club reunion and really just time well spent with two stellar human beings, absorbing some magic together. 

When we were born, we were programmed perfectly. We had a natural tendency to focus on love. Our imaginations were creative and flourishing, and we knew how to use them. We were connected to a world much richer than the one we connect to now, a world full of enchantment and a sense of the miraculous.

#4: Have you winterized your salad bowl yet? If we cannot yet enjoy watermelon, let’s definitely feast on big, luxurious bowls of leafy greens topped with roasted vegetables and some protein. No dressing needed. Warm those bellies and keep them happy with complex carbs! This past week I met my sister Angela for lunch in a faraway place called “Oklahoma City, Northside” and we shamed ourselves at a magical salad bar. Have you heard of Salata? Oh man. 

#5: One of our local Hansons mentors posted this quote today, and it is perfect: “The genuine marathoner is a rare breed indeed, half athlete and half poet. Part rock-bottom pragmatist and part sky-high idealist. Completely, even defiantly individual and yet irrevocably joined to a select group almost tribal in its shared rituals and aspirations.” Fair warning, friends, if you check in here on Monday. I had a week of non-running and have lots to say. Many lessons to solidify!

#6: My husband’s new favorite dessert is kind of a surprise to me. It was a throw-together layered shortbread-and-ganache idea from a brownie mix I picked up at Aldi. Should I make it again for Valentine’s Day this week? Or should I make the very top secret thing I was already planning? Or should we have multiple desserts to finish off our traditional heart-shaped ribeye dinner? Like a small chocolate festival of our own? Okay, yes, that.

Stay cozy, friends! Read great books. Eat the best food you can find. Expect miracles and do not for one day give up hope. What if we did? Look what we would be missing already. And tomorrow hasn’t even happened yet.

“Never underestimate the power
that one good workout
will have on your mind.
Keeping the dream alive
is half the battle.”
~Kara Goucher
XOXOXOXO

 

a nightmare, a memory, and promises

I am never not thinking about her. Day and night, whether I am alone or with people, she is there in the periphery at least but more often right up front, an up-close but silent line drawing around every face I see, every activity, every thought.

And I don’t know how much I am allowed to talk about it because at this moment there is nothing we can do but pray.

It’s not all worry or grief. I just plain miss her. Her voice, her smile, her skin. I miss her sense of humor, her plans, the way she loves her dogs and the mountains, the photos of what she’s cooking (she is such a wonderful, creative cook!). I miss our conversations, both deep and silly.

I miss that cozy assurance that she is my daughter and I am her mother and that no matter what happened during those years apart, no matter what people said and did, no matter how much time passed, it was always so. And it will always be so. I miss that assurance a lot. I fight voices every day whispering that the last few years were a lie, that she didn’t love me or that we didn’t actually regain that intimacy. That I was blinded by desperation.

She does appear in my dreams still, but less often in that magical way I experienced during her first long absence. Lately, they are nightmares, although sometimes those can deliver a spark of hope too. 

Two nights ago I dreamed she was an infant and we were swimming together in dark purple water, barely lit from above by a single light source. It was a deep, narrow chute of water, like an underwater cave surrounded by nothing. She was drowning. Her tiny face angry and contorted, so blue it was almost black, silent but screaming, panicked for air, furious that she couldn’t breathe, terrified. I was below her. My legs were tied with corrugated pool hoses and wires, tied so tight I couldn’t kick. My arms were reaching out, my fingertips barely touching her. In that dream, I could feel her tiny, fleshy body bob against my hands. It was visceral. All I could do was just barely tap her through the water, toward the surface.

When she had an emergency appendectomy several years before all of this, her recovery was a miracle. Leading up to her discharge, she very much wanted to do everything the doctors told her to do, such as sit up on her own and learn again to twist out of bed. She was fighting both an infection from lack of antibiotics at the hospital and the normal abdomen pain from the gas they used to inflate her little belly for surgery. Moving on her own was important but uncomfortable, and it was difficult for me to not help her. One moment in particular as she was struggling to sit up, and I was struggling to watch her, she looked at me so sweetly and said, “Just a little nudge, Mama?” I rushed in and gave her the smallest nudge on her lower back and a little pressure on her upper arm, and she gripped me for balance. She twisted and sat up straight and stood up on her own. Gradually she walked and soon she felt so much better.

Just a little nudge, Mama?

In the dream, she was just a baby but she looked at me with those big brown China doll eyes and begged for help I couldn’t provide. Pleaded for it. Her face blue and her body slipping down into the dark water, her pale chubby legs kicking against the shadows.

Again I nudged her lightly, barely a tap, and the water floated her for a moment until she sank again. I cried out to God silently in my thoughts, “SAVE MY BABY, PLEASE COME GET HER, DON’T YOU SEE HER?? I CANNOT REACH HER, SHE IS SINKING!!”

Screamed it.

And He did. He reached down in that instant and pulled her swiftly to the surface, where she found air and warmth and sunlight just in time. I couldn’t see her anymore but I was relieved. I still felt could still feel the hoses around my legs and the thick, oily cold water all over my body, those details only dreams can make you feel.

She was gone but safe. And I woke up.

A little while after waking up I cried telling my husband about the dream, it was so terrifying. But saying it out loud I finally heard the promises:

  • God rescues when we are powerless.
  • He does see.
  • He does hear our silent screams.
  • He will show up just in time.
  • He loves her now just like when she was an infant, just like when she was a little girl in the hospital. Just like always. 

Please keep praying for her.

There is so much more I could say, about what we have learned regarding helping and enabling, or maybe the differences between protecting and teaching, I don’t know. I don’t anything really excpet I miss her and love her so much. And she is so much pain and danger, and I cannot help her. Cannot even give her a nudge right now.

So my days are filled with animals and housework, running and cooking dinner. Unprecedented miracles (how can I tell them?) and awful nightmares. She remains with me every second, an indelible line drawing. My first baby, my friend, and so much more I cannot even express.

Several of you have loved ones in similar peril. I want you to know that every day when I pray for her, I pray for your babies too, no matter how old they are. 

Several of you have reached out to privately share some of your own stories about overcoming, recovery, and straight up the miracle-working Love of God. I cannot thank you enough. It is all oxygen to us.

“And he saith unto them, Why are ye fearful, O ye of little faith?
Then he arose, and rebuked the winds and the sea;
And there was a great calm.”
~Matthew 8:26
XOXOXOXO