Lazy W Marie

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

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the mutual admiration society

The week before last was replete with special events. We finally gathered to celebrate Alex’s 29th birthday. I joined my friend Keri for an evening of sorority fun. We hosted the 6th annual Lazy W Talent Show, Thrift Store Prom style!! And one afternoon that week I drove to the city to attend the Public Utilities Division October team builder. I have great stories from each of these memorable events, but today I want to express some gratitude about the team builder. If my dad catches wind of this, he will chalk it up to an episode of the Mutual Admiration Society.

((with this cutie at the Jim Thorpe Building, Oct 2022))

When Handsome first told me we were both invited to this luncheon, I was excited to bear witness to what I thought would be the group’s loving sendoff to their fearless leader. In case you don’t know, back in May, BW accepted a new position at the Commish, which has gradually meant less and less time with the Public Utilities crew. It’s bittersweet. He has been there for so long, seen so much and been a part of so much history, made so many connections and started more than a few revolutions (my words, not his). He has had myriad opportunities to leave the Commish itself over the years, but it was never a real consideration. He has always felt there was more to do there, and he has been right. By taking this new job, though, he has better opportunity to do more of what he has been doing. Exactly the latitude and support to affect even more real change than before, and everyone is excited. Still, as bittersweet changes go, it means stepping away from the beloved fifth floor.

I am not exaggerating to say that the fifth floor is beloved. The people there in Public Utilities, the work everyone does, ongoing, storm after storm, crisis after crisis, almost always going unrecognized and unappreciated by the citizens and companies under their watchful protection, it all blows my mind. The Public Utilities Division is filled with some of the smartest, most motivated people in Oklahoma. A family of their own, too, in all the ways that a workplace can be a family. My husband loves them, as people and as a little community, an organism. And they love my husband.

I love them too, from a distance. I always relish hearing about the group’s accomplishments and culture shifts. I have been fascinated to see how the team builder tradition has evolved over the years. I admire how they have implemented so many strong policies that ensure the best possible work environment, transparency, cohesiveness, efficiency, you name it. They shine with both excellence and work-life balance.

It’s better than a James Clear newsletter, all respect to Atomic Habits. It’s even better than Adam Grant, and man that’s saying a lot. So I make them lots of cinnamon rolls and cookies to show my admiration.

The belated farewell to him is what I thought we were attending.

How humbling then, when as we sat down for lunch, after trading hugs and greetings with as many people as possible, that they surprised me and took so much time to pour their love out to me, personally. I was not expecting it. I was expecting a creative sendoff to BW, something akin to a retirement farewell, even though he is very much still in the building and involved in their culture. I was not expecting that personal show of Love.

They made me feel appreciated for supporting the man who has done so much for them, and they made that seem important. Valuable. They showed that the love I try to transmit to them has been felt along the way, which makes me so happy. These men and women are captivating to me, whether they know it or not. It’s also gratifying, I have to admit, to sense the far reaching effects of nourishing and supporting my husband so that he can perform well. His performance impacts so many people, and their outpouring connected us, included me in this beautiful fabric.

It all widened what can sometimes feel like a very small, isolated world here at the farm. And hearing from individual people I have been admiring and emulating in private ways just moved my heart. Lesia looked me straight in the eyes and convinced me that I belong to them, and I hope she knows how much I needed to hear that.

Thankfully the group did finally move on to honor BW, ha! I could allow the heat in my face to cool a bit. I could try to hold back tears for him instead of for myself.

What a gift to hear the full spectrum of ways he has impacted people’s lives and careers, their happiness at work, their sense of purpose and personal development. I know how much they mean to him, how invested he has been in them over the years, so it fed my heart mightily to see him honored. They all shared a beautiful euphony of how he has steered the division into a position of leadership and example for the agency at large. It’s good, very good, to have some home team pride, and this group has it. They deserve to be proud of themselves and where they are headed, collectively and individually.

When BW stood to speak to the group, the Love just continued to flow. I felt like we were at church. He mirrored every scrap of appreciation right back to them, and he pointed them straight and true to the future, to the next chapter. He reminded them that they are the ones making everything happen. I sat there beaming inwardly and having a crush on him with every word he spoke, knowing how earnestly he means what he says. Knowing how satisfied he always is by not just the hard work and brilliant results for which PUD is known, but also the culture of respect and appreciation they all foster.

It is a workplace, sure, and a government office at that; but Love reigns there. I felt it that day in overwhelming ways. Love streams through those complex relationships, the projects, the unprecedented challenges, the thrilling solutions. Love buoys them all and delivers them to shores beyond reasonable expectations. This is why I do not worry about the current storms or the unseen ones. Storms always pass, even the scariest ones. Love abides.

After the luncheon and several more hugs and precious conversations which I tucked away in my heart, BW took me around the building to see friends I had not seen in many years and to meet lots of new (to me) faces. The Commission is teeming with talent and passion, and those marble floors and art deco rooms have seen some amazing events. I felt deeply inspired by the end of our tour, and I appreciate my husband sharing so much with me that day.

I am sure looking forward to getting better acquainted with more people from all over the building. I am excited to bake for their meetings and hear their stories, to bear witness to their revolutions and wild, overcoming successes. A lot of glory is on the horizon for Oklahoma and the agencies that support her. How exciting to witness it all.

But Public Utilities will always have my heart. I hope they know that.

((a banner from our summertime PUD event at the farm, I keep it in the Apartment))

Signed,
With much gratitude and very real affection,
Former PUD Homeroom Mom
XOXO

early october moments (tgif)

Does anyone remember Brene Brown’s old school TGIF posts? Her break down (Trusting, Grateful, Inspiration, Faith) is a lovely way to punctuate the work week and step mindfully into a recharging weekend. I am sharing my version today, and if you have a moment, I hope you’ll share a bit of yours, too.

What are you Trusting? This week I am trusting that God is working behind the scenes on our biggest prayer requests, all the important things we cannot change on our own. I am trusting Him to provide for and protect Jocelyn above and beyond what she can do for herself, to remove destructive forces from the Commission, to heal a few precious loved ones who are sick and hurting, and to replenish our water supply after such a long, hot drought.

For what are you Grateful? I am immensely grateful for our beautiful home, for my ever ripening marriage, for our close knit extended family and mosaic masterpiece of friends. I am so thankful for this recent garden season and for the chance to guide Jessica through her own first big garden season. I am thankful for the shift in weather, the promise of time to read and nest and write more soon. I am grateful for the flowers still blooming like crazy.

((an easy walk around the farm yielded me this surprise bouquet, and I love it))

What is Inspiring You? Recently I have been soaking up stories about gardening on a shoestring and all the many things we can do to beautify our outdoor spaces with just work and creativity, rather than always spending lots of money. Moving and dividing plants, massaging compost, and generally caring for the garden inspires me. I am inspired by the sumac branches that boast green, red, orange, and yellow, all at once. How they are in no hurry to finish the transformation. They can hold an audience with ease. I am inspired by a combination of music by Leon Bridges and Taylor Swift then the scents of rain and pumpkin bread. I am wildly inspired by my husband and the way he works and by Jessica and the way she squeezes every available minute of her day to be outdoors. I am also inspired and awakened by a podcast I heard this week about time management. It asks, what are the things for which you feel you do not have enough time? My singular and immediate response was writing. So I have decided to get back to writing daily.

How are you practicing your Faith? I have been making an effort to speak my thanks aloud as often as possible, all throughout the day. Klaus is used to it, haha, as are the horses and chickens. I have also been reading my devotional and Bible passages early in the morning, while my mind is sill warm and pliable from sleep, and writing down all the joys and answered prayers from the previous day. These small practices keep me tethered and encouraged. I am still moving those gratitude and cocreation muscles by giving thanks ahead of the miracles. This is sometimes easy and sometimes hard, which is ok. It works.

Happy Friday, friends.
Thank you for stopping here.
I hope you are inspired
to mark the goodness in your life
and really enjoy it.
XOXOXOXO

a few of my favorite average moments at the farm

Sometimes a few average things happen here at the farm that take my breath away and leave me buzzing with pleasure. If you have a moment to join me, I would love to read something from your everyday life that thrills you.

After weeks of raking thin flakes of hay from large, tightly wound bales, the moment always comes when the dense core is exposed and everything relaxes. That feeling of my strong metal rake toothing itself into the final thick layer of reluctant dry grass is so exciting. I can feel the breakthrough about to happen. Then I feel the whoosh, the great exhale and collapse of all that necessary tension. I relish the sight of hay falling in heaps and layers to the ground. The core is solid and heavy but manageable, and it tips over with a little effort. A giant cylinder of food for the horses. For a few weeks after this, the hay comes in thicker, friendlier sheets. And I always crave to make cinnamon rolls for someone.

Every sunset and every daybreak is special, and I am always thankful to catch either. I especially love dramatic skies, purple clouds with hot pink underbellies, backlit metallic banks of clouds, streaky sunrays extending further than necessary and exactly as far as they want. I love it when the western sky reflects across the farm onto the bowl of the eastern sky, and vice versa. Our house sits in a way that displays the roundness of the heavens. And I love it when the various colored lights clings to trees and buildings and, at very special moments, animals. Light blessings. Kisses everywhere.

How sensual to walk around the gardens and smell herbs recently disturbed. Someone has been scraping through mint and oregano and rosemary. Someone has made a snack of Thai basil. Lemon balm, tomato vines, parsley. All of it available to everyone. Cats or chickens emerge, peaceful. I would grow a garden just for these silent, fragrant moments.

Every morning after breakfast chores, Klaus and I walk the front paths to pray and lay groundwork for the day ahead. Lately the prairie grasses have ripened into warm colors and many have grown their feathery tassels and plumes. I scout for blood grass and sumac, and he scouts for deer. I love the ever tightening corners where pine trees flank the walkway and threaten to grow into canopies above us. I love the profusion of yellow wildflowers. I love the flattened areas in the meadow where deer have been sleeping. I especially love the joy on Klaus’ face when he meets his “babies” and they leap and sprint away from him with unbelievable grace.

When the weather is just right, hanging laundry outside is a great pleasure. I love seeing bedsheets and towels billowing on clean breezes while working in the garden. I love catching the horses nap beneath the fabric. I love the heavy scent of ozone that comes with us back to the house with that basket full of dry, crisp fabric.

Sometimes I visit the chicken coop and discover eggs so recently laid they are still hot to the touch. Sometimes I check squash and pumpkin vines and discover that yesterday’s fruits have doubled in size. Sometimes the morning glories are still blooming at lunchtime, and woody sunflower stalks that had broken from their own glorious weight are suddenly growing new shoots. These quiet details, all proof of Life that wants more and more of its own energy. Amazing and encouraging.

Happy Thursday, friends.
May you notice and swallow whole
every pleasure available to you.
XOXOXO

jocelyn marie, 27.

Today is Jocelyn’s 27th birthday. Twenty seven years, a lifetime ago. She was fresh and uninjured then, unbelievably fragile in her tiny pajamas, a doe eyed, perfect angel with olive-pink skin who nursed and slept and thrived on closeness. I was a very lost and overconfident first time mother, barely twenty one years old, lost and aimless, looking for any stronghold in my chaotic life, knowing deep down I was wrong about everything except for loving her.

Mostly I was amazed by how healthy and beautiful she was, how easy she was to care for. Out of nowhere, this little person from my dreams was real.

Jocelyn has always been easy to love, easy to be in love with. Her nature has always made bonding easy and strong. She is a magnet for love and passion, and she herself is a Life Force. Despite it all, maybe because of it all, she is just so powerful.

In years past I have known what I wanted to say, how I wanted to frame my thoughts and celebrate her birthday from a distance, but this year I do not.

How I wish I could plan something fun and meaningful for her, prepare her favorite foods and wrap gifts. Take her to that Mexican restaurant on 50th and let the mariachi band sing to her. Enjoy her giggling! I would love to see her and Bridget arrive at the gate, ready to put a saddle of Chanta, ignoring his old man objections, or slide atop Dusty, no saddle at all. I would love to watch her cook daal and listen to a fresh round of new music from her phone. I would love to hike with her in Colorado and take a road trip together, talk about everything without stopping.

I have been having nightmares again. Last night I was in a string of stories about Jocelyn at different ages, and as I gradually realized it was a dream, I panicked and begged to stay in it, struggled against waking up, because at least in my dream, however sad it was, I could look into her eyes and talk to her. Beg her to understand we had good intentions, that I understand what she is going through and want to help. See that she was breathing, touch her cheeks, help her untangle her long thick hair. Lock fingers with her.

We have friends who have lost their children forever. By accident, by suicide, by illness. All these years apart from my children have been long and hard, but death is a kind of forever I can scarcely approach in my heart, so being with these friends in their pain is always scary and bizarre for me. I have no idea what to say, and yet part of me wants to cry out, I miss my babies too.

Indulging in my own sadness of missing her so profoundly, it feels weak and short sighted. Because we have hope of being with her again in this lifetime, We can hope and choose to believe that she is okay.

But then fear settles in, because I don’t know for sure. I do not know what she eats day to day, who is with her and are they safe, how is her physical health, especially her back. How is she coping with her Dad’s suicide, today? This month? How is she managing these insane food prices and gas prices, can I bring her something to make it easier? Does she want to take college classes to chase a dream, can I help her with that, with anything? Is she in love? Are her friends good to her, do they understand her story? Or do they take advantage of her good heart and lead her down destructive paths? What are her strongest memories? What are her hopes this year? Does she have nightmares, like me, like Jess? Does she know we meant to help in Colorado, meant to save her? Does she know I have cut ties with Laurie forever and understand better than ever, the abuse they endured?

None of it turns off because she is absent. There is so much unsaid, so much unhealed and unaddressed. But Love it strong. Just as in all those bullying, violent years that Richard and Laurie and the grandparents kept them away and soaked the girls in lies and hatred, Love never fades or stops flowing. I just manage the pain and find places for Love to go.

Except, she is my baby, my first baby, and sometimes I cannot bring myself to share this special love with anyone else. I hoard it for her. I hope she comes home today and accepts it all. Recognizes it. Despite the lessons learned about setting deadlines and schedules for miracles, I see this precious date on the calendar, September Eighth, and hope that this is the year she feels homesick enough to call me again, to find me again, to let me try and make everything right, once and for all.

She has broken free and found me before. She has survived chaos and trauma and abuse, all kinds of dangerous situations and mistakes, and found safety and love before. So have I. We have learned, gradually, how to alchemize some terrible circumstances and grow beautiful little lives. So I hope for more of that. I am relying on these promises, that it will happen.

Maybe today. Maye not. But I trust that at the right time, we will have an even better reunion than before, and this time no one will overshadow us. There is no one left to fear.

Baby, I hope that however you are celebrating your birthday, you feel wildly loved. You get cake and ice cream and your favorite meal. You are surprised with gifts and flowers, some good news, and lots of time in nature. Come home if you can. Call me if you can. But if you’re not ready, please still know that I love you so much, I can hardly breathe when I think of you. You are in my dreams. You are in my conversations. You are in this house and all over this farm, everywhere I look. You are in my favorite memories and my darkest fears, but also my brightest hopes for tomorrow. You will always be my perfect, terrifying, beautiful little baby girl.

Happy Birthday Joc
XOXOXOXO

miracles brewing in the late summer storms

Around sunset one evening last week, a mild storm gathered. We walked around the farm gathering the free range birds, I flaked out some bedtime hay for the horses, and Handsome obliged Klaus with his requisite post-dinner fetch throws. The skies grew bruised and moody, the clouds lowered, and a cool wind combed over us. After such a brutal heat wave and drought most of the summer, these were foreign details, sensations we had almost forgotten.

I grabbed my husband’s hand and said, “Let’s pray for the kids. For everyone.”

We stood in the front yard between the house and the yurt and faced north to watch the swirling, dimensional weather. We continued holding hands and prayed aloud for those closest to us. We prayed for some hard situations at the Commission, too. We prayed for a few dear friends. We gave thanks for innumerable miracles in our lives, both very old and very recent. We gave thanks for this little farm that has survived another extreme weather season, for all the birthdays, for all the fun and hard work and rest afforded us.

We prayed for the kids again.

And my heart lifted.

I got that giggling feeling that so often starts in my hips and rises through my belly and lungs. I let it bloom into a smile while we prayed and watched the Pine Forest and listened to the chickens quiet down. It felt wonderful and natural to be submitting needs and wants to God without begging Him. And in the shadow of the front edge of that storm, I felt revolution coming.

Today more fresh weather rolled in, an even cooler and much gentler rainstorm. I was at the local reservoir running a few easy miles, and the sky grew thick and woolly. The first few raindrops might have been my own sweat, but soon enough the moisture felt cold and consistent. I let it soak me and remembered many of the prayers we uttered a few nights ago. I thought back over the years, of how many miracles have burst forth in our life in what appeared to be an instant. One phone call, a sudden announcement at the office, an email, a visitor. A realization.

Everything can turn on a dime, and that is to be celebrated, not feared.

As we begin a brand new month and likely a new season, my heart feels stronger than it has, maybe, in years. I feel more attuned to Love and more expectant of miracles big and small, and this time in a much happier, less desperate way. Because this is how life is supposed to be. Rich with blessings and mercy. Alive with texture, change, mystery, peace, adventure, and Love.

I bid adieu to August in an Instagram post and my husband said it almost made him cry. I get it. Summer is a fun, free, celebratory time. August contains his birthday, too! And we always hate to see certain chapters close.

But this next little bit will be so good. Probably better in many ways. Maybe with fewer difficulties. Because all the late summer storms are hiding miracles we have not yet seen. Answers that we have sought earnestly and should absolutely expect at just the perfect moment.

As I finish writing this, rain has picked up pace. It is pinging and echoing in the chimney. Klaus is on the concrete floor, snoring contentedly. The farm is, otherwise, nearly silent. Ready for and open to whatever is coming our way.

Trust in the Goodness of Life
XOXOXOXO