Lazy W Marie

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

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high fire danger

This past week I remembered a mental trick or visualization that has always helped me in moments of crisis. I had forgotten about it for a while because, well, it’s not much needed in smooth and easy times. I hope this is useful to you, too.

Years ago, I learned to think of all my emotions as sparks of fire. I acknowledge every single one as real and valid, doing my best to feel them entirely; but then I decide whether they are emotions that should be fanned into true flames, and then into bonfires that can warm me and keep me safe, fires that can warm and feed my loved ones, or sparks that if left unchecked will grow into a dangerous, detructive wildfires.

The whole point for me is that every emotion can be fed or starved and has an end purpose, or at least potential. I get to decide, to an extent, the role they play in my life and in the world I share with my loved ones.

Okay, friends. No doubt about it, this past week has been hard. Not just in circumstances but in the emotional maelstrom that inevitably comes along for the ride. I have been fighting anger that actually qualifies as true rage. Then this rage sometimes drains out of my body and leaves a really cold, weird sadness, and I can’t stop crying. Shadowy details of our situation have twsited into very specific, painful fears that dominated my thoughts for a couple of days. I have definitely seen logical hope here and there, but I was having trouble feeling it most days. And I lost track of how to guide my emotions. I let a few sparks grow into fires when I should have consciously tamped them out.

This only happens in times like this, when our circumstances and life challenges are so bizarre that I don’t feel like myself. It’s insanely destabilizing. Emotionally, it’s a dry, windy, barren kind of environment that makes it so easy for sparks to become wildfires. High fire danger. No room for sloppiness.

A few nights ago, a new friend and one of Handsome’s colleagues texted me, just checking in. We traded updates then settled on a shared belief in this scripture:

“My grace is sufficient for thee. For my strength is made perfect in weakness.”
-II Corinthians 12:9

It was a fairly spontaneous exchange, and it set me gently on the path of renewing myself inwardly, though I had first quoted it (badly) with the intention of helping her. By the next day, I noticed that I was actually feeling better, fresher, more pliable, more alive in my thoughts and even in my body. I was no longer muscling myself into a positive attitude; the whole landscape around us seemed different. Green, hydrated, nourished. More than just hopeful, our entire world seemed to be brimming with promise.

As I write this now, I can honestly say that every single aspect of this situation feels perfect. Anointed, even. Of course there will be more hard days ahead, and there is plenty of mystery still. But that’s ok. I remember now to stay nourished and watered, so that my inner emotional landscape is never so dry and barren that sparks can fly out of control like that. And I remember to choose carefully which sparks get to be fanned into beautful, cozy, life affirming bonfires.

Thanks for reading, friends, and thanks for your messages and solid gold love this week! I hope this is helpful to you in some way.

“Casting down imaginations, and every high thing that exalteth itself against the knowledge of God, and bringing into captivity every thought to the obedience of Christ.” ~II Corinthians 10:5

a butterfly on Christmas morning

On Christmas morning, we stood outside in tee shirts and bare feet, marveling at the unseasonably warm weather. Sun shone abundantly, and a vivid blue and black butterfly landed on the northeast corner of our house, warming itself on the brick.

We had just enjoyed a sweet and festive overnight celebration with Jess and Alex, truly a glittery and affectionate family Christmas. This had followed a long and scary week with my Mom in the hospital, then a few days of intense last minute prep for the holiday. I was feeling both deeply satisfied and profoundly tired. Handsome was starting his week long vacation, and we were excited to collapse a little bit into some uneventful days, just resting and cocooning together.

The next day when our world threatened to fall apart, I thought of that butterfly. It had appeared almost exactly twenty four hours earlier, but it felt like a month ago. The butterfly appeared then in that reality, but that world no longer felt like ours.

((colorful greenhouse in January))

The thing is, I am a sucker for a metaphor. My mind searches constantly for parallels and omens, messages and patterns in daily life. Hidden meanings. Usually this serves me pretty well, but for the past eight days or so, my thoughts have been so turbulent and my heart so hurt, I can’t quite get a clear picture.

This week I have typed out and deleted dozens of pages trying to explain what happened, how it affects us and why this feels like history repeating itself in new brutal ways, what sense I have managed to make of it all, and more. But none of it feels worth sharing. I just want to anchor my thoughts to the deep knowlede that God is in control. Remember that our peace is linked directly to how deeply and consistently we stay aligned with Him.

I try to remember the butterfly appearing out of context. Beauty where it doesn’t belong, you know?

I try to remember that Love does win, and this includes the private spaces of my own heart. I cannot afford to hate people, not even temporarily to soothe myself, ha. (Why does hate feel just a little bit good, for just a minute?)

I try to remember that truth has a way of coming to light. Sunshine sanitizes. And often the truth comes out with no help from us.

I try to remember the personal immense value of doing regular, daily work. Simple stuff. Meaningful, steady, physical work. As unto God, not for anyone’s approval.

I try to remember the importance of harnessing my imagination, which is really tough when your body is filled alternately with either rage, fear, or grief. But it does matter. Imagination is powerful.

I try to remember that miracles are happening all around us. And stepping out of our own storm to be aware of other people’s realities can be really helpful. My grandmother was so good at this.

I try to see the hidden answers, the gifts secreted to us in the midst of what we could curse as only a bad thing in life. We have endured far worse than this in our marriage, and we will endure this.

Thanks for listening, friends. Thanks for overlooking my lack of clarity and my failure to arrive at a great metaphor. Maybe the butterfly on Christmas Day was an omen of good and beautiful things out of the bue, maybe not. But it will probably live in my memory as an attachment to this bizarre chapter.

Order, Disorder, Reorder
~Dr. Richard Rohr
xoxo

safe to celebrate

A couple of weeks ago while festooning the farm with paper chains and garland and lights, paper snowflakes and more, I texted Handsome asking if he had decided to add a Christmas tree or any other fun decorations to his office at the Commish. “You’re safe to celebrate now,” I typed. But instantly I realized it was an assurance to myself as much as it was for him.

We’re safe, friends.

Safe to celebrate. Safe to sink into the lush beauty and immense pleasure of not only Christmastime but life in general, in all seasons. Safe, despite the worries that gnaw at us, despite the still unresolved heartaches. Safe to celebrate, even as the work is neverending and some precious loved ones are living in terror and suspense. Safe even as we worry about aging animals and parents and the world at large, changing constantly.

Safe.

Safe because we have faced so many crises in twenty five years and remained standing, closer and closer together. Safe because we have navigated a dozen difficult conversation just these past few months and emerged from the fog with clearer vision and even firmer footing. Safe because, after wobbling around in the dark for a while, I remember again where my power lies and know in my bones how strong the flow of Love really is, how immediately available it always is, always has been. It’s a short pivot, really, not a long journey home.

((mistletoe kisses in Guthrie, OK, December 2025))

We’re safe to celebrate because the miraculous gift of Christmas was freely given even with the unavoidable agony that would happen so shortly afterwards. I think that’s what reminds me most of the importance of letting these realities of life coexist: God teaches us constantly that grief will always follow joy, and joy will always follow grief; and we are invited and instructed to embrace both experiences, and everthing in between.

I hope you feel this invitation to celebrate, friends. I hope you feel safe to dive deep and keep your eyes open to everything, every aspect of life, knowing you are surrounded and supported by Love. Designed by Love Itself to be a conduit for the same. You are safe, so let’s celebrate.

“So to live as if you are unloved is a limitation.
Living unloved is like clipping a bird’s wings and removing its ability to fly.”
~William Young
XOXOXO

what’s saving my life lately

I’m shamelessly borrowing this sweet idea from Emily Freeman. I love it as an expansion to Bliss Lists or Senses Inventories. Diving in.

What’s Saving My Life Lately is everything, really. Every single reminder to live more fully in my human form, immersing myself more deeply in the physical and emotional experiences of being here. Because it sure is fleeting and ever changing. This is a welcome contrast to living online or living in my head. This is natural.

What’s saving my life lately is music by Sting, Lana del Rey, and Leonard Cohen.

Something else saving my life lately is more silence than usual, so I can hear the farm better. Fewer podcasts and lots of quiet solo work. I am becoming reacquainted with the sounds of Johnny Cash honking sleepily and the cows mooing at each other. Rhett’s tone is especially low, so his voice goes unnoticed unless your’e paying attention. I even love, again, the swish-gurgle-hum of the dishwasher. I am smitten by the background music of Klaus snoring.

What’s saving my life lately is slowing down to let Klaus lead me on walks more often. He loves a routine and a familiar path, but sometimes he surprises me. He can always tell when I am following him, when he’s the one in charge, and he loves it. He rewards me with lots of leg cuddles and full face smiles. The kind with smoothed back ears and stars in his eyes. The cooler mornings have been saving his life, too. It’s pure joy to see him skip and bounce again, teeter tottering around the farm.

((Scarlett and Klaus are still buddies, even if they no longer play soccer every day.
Rhett just wouldn’t understand.))

More of the full human experience, something I really love lately, is hours of unstructured quality time with loved ones, face to face. We wouldn’t want to do without the digital conveniences, of course; but remembering those are tools, not replacements for the real thing, has generated a lot of luscious goodness. On Tuesday I had the rare luxury of a whole afternoon with a new friend, and really we just sat still and talked and talked. We talked about everything, at least twice! We did take one slow walk around the farm, and we planted paperwhites in the greenhouse, but that’s it. Barely even a snack, ha! Thursday, Alex and the grandpups visited, and we talked and talked, too. We shared a rare midday meal, nice and slow, just the two of us, and it was literally wonderful. Full of wonder. There is no replacement in life for deep, face to face, undistracted connection.

The colors of autumn, both in the landscape and inside our house, are a visual and energetic balm to me. This year the decline has felt especially slow and gentle. Restful and life giving.

((as above, so below…xoxo))

A surprise view of the Northern Lights with Handsome and our friend Cathy.

Realizing that a new friend and I do miss each other, now that we are no longer seeing each other every day.

Conversations with our adult chldren, spiraling upward all the time. What a gift! I never know what we’re going to discuss, but I always love hearing their perspectives on world events, dog care, television, food, you name it.

An old book by C.S. Lewis (Screwtape Letters) and a new book by David Robson (The Expectation Effect).

Something truly saving my life right now is making a point to do something each day that is not easily undone. In my world, it’s so easy to get stuck in perpetual maintenance mode, always chasing the daily mundane tasks that are necessary but invisible and unending. It helps my state of mind to pause that treadmill and do something slightly more long lasting.

Speaking of treadmills, I’ve been doing a little more strength and mobility work and focusing less on how many miles I’m running. It’s refreshing. Life giving, to be sure.

Dreaming up new ideas for third grade garden club is one of the best life givers. Spending time with those kids is pure magic! This Monday we had our final outdoor project for the semester. They learned how to pot up paperwhite bulbs, an easy task for practiced gardeners they are; then they decorated their pots with exactly the amount of wild abandon you would expect from happy third graders. I loved every milisecond and went home smiling so hard I was almost crying.

Brushing the horses and watching their winter coats come in thick and fuzzy.

Watching our lone rooster follow and protect his eight hens.

Noticing Johnny Cash make his way all the way downhill to the pond for a sunshine splash.

Perfect coffee with frothy heated cream. My favorite multigrain bread for lunch. The biggest, crispest, sweetest apples I have ever eaten, a small heap of them on my dining room table. Kiwis, roasted garden vegetables (maybe the final batch of the season), more beans, oatmeal, and guacamole. More fiber in my diet latey, ha! That may literally be saving my life.

Seeing Handsome dressed sharply and feeling happy to go to work, excited about so many worthwhile projects. And seeing him get his second tattoo! Watching him adorn our farm with Christmas lights, boop the cows on their noses, and cuddle our cat. Listening to him and Alex build a new kitchen pantry at the kids’ house. Knowing he has more ideas and more love to pour into them. Watching him sink in and enjoy his life, in so many different ways, gives ME life.

Taper candles. Pumpkins. Forty year old popcorn garland on my indoor trees, a gift from our recently passed Aunt Marion, I remember them from childhood. White twinkle lights everywhere. Plaid fabric ripped and tied into garlands. A citrusy-cinnamon-clove simmer pot. Layers of fuzzy blankets but open windows so the breeze comes through. Copper cookie cutters hanging in both the kitchen and dining room. Colorful paper chains for a rambunctious Christmas display in the Party Barn. The promise of paperwhite blooms in a few weeks. Seven pots’ worth!

It is saving my life right now to decorate for winter, a little bit for Christmas, but just winter in general. Thanksgiving is right around the corner, and it’s so fun to see the farm and our rooms cozied up and ready for celebration. It feels good deep down.

Writing more, especially chipping away at the children’s Farmily stories, has been wonderful. I am slow at this for several reasons, but it’s getting done, and it’s life giving.

It’s saving my life right now to share our favorite chocolate fudge cake recipe with Jessica, to walk her through the needed ingredients while she shopped then give her a small boost while she prepared it for her office potluck. She did great! She even obeyed me and took a tiny “Quality Control” bite from the corner, hehe. The best detail of this story is that Jess used the same 9×13 glass pan that my Mom gifted Handsome on his birthday when we were first married. Way back when, Mom brought it to his office filled with her Mom’s recipe, and it instantly became his favorite. So Jessica took her great-grandmother’s recipe in a 24 year old glass pan, and it was a hit with her coworkers. Life.

Here’s what I know:

We are pulled in all directions, tested and drained in every way. We are tattered and bruised, and we are in many ways battle weary and heartbroken. Filled with fear, if we fill ourselves with fear.

We can cling to those emotions, nurse them and glorify them, magnify and identify with them; or we can make a better choice.

We can identify and celebrate the just as numerous ways life returns to us, refills us, saves us. We can magnify those feelings instead and acknowledge and celebrate the incredible, wonder-filled goodness of this earthly life, this human experience, in all its richness and complexity.

I wish for you a million details that give you life, that save your life, that recharge you. I wish for you the wisdom and presence of mind to name them. Magnify them. Give those gifts way more power than you give the rest.

I’m wishing this for myself, too.

Thank you, Emily, for this lovely train of thought!

“Who knew that by making the world a better place,
You’d make the world a better place?”
~Alex Yeverino
XOXOXO

friday 5 at the farm: what a week!

Hey friends, how are you on this fine Friday? Here at the Lazy W things are finlly cool and soaking wet. We’re enjoying some lush rainfall and plenty of thunder and lightning. True October weather took so long to arrive, it feels like a gift.

How about a short and sweet Friday 5 update?

ONE, New Neon: Okay, this is not much of a life update, but I am smitten with this weird little new addition to my weird little art collection. Thank you, Handsome!!

TWO, Dad’s Birthday! Dear Ol’ Dad, aka Grandpa Dunaway, aka Joe, completed another trip around the sun!! Local family gathered at a cute German restuarant to celebrate, and boy did we laugh a lot. And eat a lot. And boy did have lots of overlapping conversations, ha! The weather was patio perfection, and we made some solid gold memories. I personally was satisfied to have made my Dad laugh all the way out loud with my gift, ha! Happy 68th, Dad! I cannot imagine life or this world without you.

THREE, Glowy cosmos: I’m just gazing at and soaking up hundreds of details in the landscape as autumn takes hold of the farm. Most plants are dried and dormant already, but the trees are wearing their finery and these cosmos are still glowing. Until about Thursday of this week, the cosmos were still loaded with dozens of enormous Monarch butterflies. I think most of them have moved on now.

FOUR, A Scare with Dusty: Early Wednesday morning, I went outside to check on everyone and found Dusty, the younger of our two horses, acting normally and campaigning for breakfast but covered in blood on the fronts of his hind legs. I also found a startling puddle of blood near his loafing shed, where he and Chanta sleep. It was the most horrifying thing I have ever witnessed here, in all these years, and it took me a moment to discern that none of it was from an open wound. It seemed obvious, I thought, that it was blood in his urine, so the googling and brainstorming had us thinking UTI or toxicity or a blunt physical trauma. We immediately started calling our vet in Shawnee and then a friend’s vet (who we thought was abulatory but was too busy) then spent the next few hours getting our obstinate boy into a halter and then even more hours getting him into a trailer. In sixteen years he has never needed to be trailered, and he was not a fan. It was a stressful and scary day, and all of that fear and worry culminated into the moment we finally saw a vet that afternoon. He examined Dusty, gave him a mild sedative to relax certain boy muscles, and was able to see the problem in that instant. It was a massive tumor that was bleeding profusely. A skin cancer on his boy parts. For a short but excruciating few minutes, the word tumor had me thinking it was going to be a sudden goodbye. With Jessica at work and Jocelyn in Colorado, my grief for them was as profound as my own grief for myself and worry for Dusty. But the vet gave us two hopeful options, one of which let us get Dusty treatment immediately, without multiple trailer traumas. What an emotional rollercoaster! So we left him overnight at the hospital and went home praying and exhuasted. Twenty four hours later, we picked him up and were amazed by how smoothly he loaded back up into the previously hated trailer, carrots and cuddles proving to be effective comfort and bait. Dusty came home happy and healthy, cleaned up and sewn up, and we took a thousand deep breaths of true relief. It is quite a thing to love an animal so much.

FIVE, Currently Reading: A novel by Stephen King to enjoy spooky season. It’s so good. Different from most of his stories, more emotional and thought provoking so far. I already mentioned the Amy Downs memoir, but it’s still on my side table while I work on a proper book review. A brand new book by Richard Rohr, which I am exploring with two of my favorite thinky friends. And a devotional based on writings by Dietrich Bonhoffer. I won’t actually start this until January, and I will start it alongside another daily devotional based on writings by C.S. Lewis. But I just received it from a secondhand Ebay seller. And isn’t the cover beautiful for October?

As always, a million details hover between these headlines, and I have a voluminous journal to prove it. Two messages I have been receiving in different ways are to “Increase my capacity,” “Trust Me,” and then “Manage it myself.” The stories around these messages are a bit messy and private, but gosh you guys… I feel like this is a big moment in my personal history. Okay. Let me know if we want to talk about this more.

What are some headlines in your world this week?

Happy weekend to you!

Just over here writing to live life twice.
XOXO