Lazy W Marie

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

advent 2021, choosing HOPE as a strategy

Earlier today I was about 2,000 words deep in an overly effusive essay about hope. This is the first week of Advent, after all, a few days meant to celebrate the virtue. I was excited to share some stories and ideas with you and just typed feverishly all morning.

Then I received some disturbing news wrapped in painful, stabbing words that sparked some deep anger, and my enthusiasm plummeted. I let myself “feel the feelings,” so to speak, until it felt like I was actually spiraling out of control in those emotions. I am struggling lately, as hard as that is to admit, and it doesn’t take very much for me to lose my balance.

One valuable lesson I have learned in this ongoing emotional rollercoaster is that when I sense my feet are on the banks of quicksand, when I feel that out of control kind of grief about to overtake me, it’s time to reach out to someone else. Not for salvation necessarily, but to be a help if possible. It’s good to reach out to someone beyond the situation at hand, pray for someone totally unrelated to my current crisis, and widen my view until my heart expands past this immediate pain and I regain some perspective. Our grandmother Ina Lynne was know for practicing a version of this, and she was one of the gentlest, strongest, most forward-thinking women I have ever known.

So I called my sister Angela, just to say hi and let her know I was still praying about something she had shared with us. I used my most stupid fake-chipper voice.

Can I pause here and say what a blessing it is to have siblings who are your friends and confidants?

We chatted only briefly before she asked about my girls, and my stupid chipper voice faltered. We have grown close enough now that I can no longer hide much of what’s going on inside me, and actually this is wonderful.

“This is not hopeless,” Ang said. I physically crumbled against the wall and started crying. She did not know I had been writing for the past three hours about hope.

“You have every reason to be hopeful,” she asserted, in a low, denim-velvet voice, both soothing and authoritative. She knows a thing or two about hopelessness, recovery, addiction, alienation, and more.

She also knows about healing and the power of community and HOPE. She works for an agency by that exact name, by the way, and their mission is to usher the least hopeful among us into new lives.

We spoke for a few more minutes about odds and likelihoods and statistics, about patterns and trauma all the many hardships inflicted on our kids over the years. But the real message between us was the power of Love and prayer and the reality that hope flourishes into actual, living-proof results. She got me to refocus on the future instead of wallowing in hate for the people who have hurt my girls. I hate that I need this redirection, but I do sometimes, and I am grateful when I get it.

We get to choose hope. We get to let it warm us and strengthen us while we endure the unknowns. Hope leads us into better choices and better habits and better outlooks. We expect more from ourselves and hold higher standards for each other when we side with hope and remember that despair is a shifting illusion.

Sure, we get to feel the fear, and the pain, and even the rage, and then we get to actively set our feet on solid ground and walk the much better path.

I am so thankful Ang picked up the phone while I was still on the brink of emotional quicksand. Part of the magic, as I am sure you already know, is that in reaching out toward someone else, chances are pretty good that the connection will lift you, too.

For my family, I choose hope. I choose to believe that healing is real and overcoming is what we were born to do. I choose to believe that Love transcends literally every hardship, and the fate others have chosen does not have to be ours.

“Hope is not a strategy.”
“You must not have been here long.”
XOXOXOXO

family thanksgiving 2021

Our family just polished off a luscious, eventful, soul-satisfying Thanksgiving week. We filled not just one day but one glorious week with fun and love.

Dunaway family Thanksgiving, 2021

We shared meals and indulged in local outings. We played games and told stories. We swapped jokes, cooked, cleaned, cooked and cleaned again, and “helped” Dad with crossword puzzles. We played with all the many family dogs and teased Gen mercilessly for not wanting to play any dogs. “He’s breathing on me! He’s breathing on me!” (She’s smart, but also weird, so we don’t let this go.)

Ang caught lots of teasing for, well, one unforgettable recipe typo which will go down in family legend. (She’s weird, but also smart, so this mistake was delightful.)

We drew names for Christmas gifting, dove into an early round of the Saran Wrap game since we won’t all be together in December, big thanks to Ang for spontaneously gathering those supplies late the evening before our big feast. And we compared notes on how we will spend the coming winter months.

Thanks to Ang, we played the Saran Wrap game early this year!
He wastes nothing, especially if it can be fashioned into something majestic.

Gen, in town from Los Angeles for the first time since the winter holidays of 2019, ran six miles with me at the lake, and we were amazed by our ability to keep up a truly lively conversation while maintaining a pretty smooth pace.

Smiling’s our favorite!! (Me with Gen)

Philip made a decadent chocolate-peanutbutter cheesecake from scratch, and his patience was tested by his older sisters’ chaotic, well, everything. Kenzie taught us a Tik-Tok dance, we might soon be famous. There was a chopsticks prank, and there were tiny chalkboard easels for displaying our thankfulness.

Hundreds of unforgettable moments filled the hours, and several long strands of warm, binding affection encircled the days. We all needed this Thanksgiving Week, probably more than we realized. If last year we held our breath and muddled through, clinging to the bones of tradition, then this year we enjoyed the greatest exhale and then laughed until we felt it in every cell. We luxuriated in the best Thanksgiving has to offer.

The glory of a well executed family holiday is not any one person’s doing, but rather the result of every member’s best effort. Cooking, arranging, engineering games, tending to traditions and details, spearheading city events, amassing extra furniture, telling the best stories, laughing uncontrollably, dancing, listening, leading, following. Being the best looking and also the firstborn (brushes off shoulder).

Every ingredient matters. We rely on each person bring his or her A Game, then we all enjoy the alchemy of our vivid personalities blending into something greater then just the sum of our parts. To me this illustrates part of the magic of family. God gave us this beautiful lifelong gift. By design, it seems, we live more fully as a group when each person steps fully into his or her gifts.

Our parents make everything better,
and they work so hard to keep everyone connected.
The older I get, the more I am amazed by what an accomplishment this is.

That said, at the end of the day, we owe an extra debt to Mom and Dad. Their forty-eight years of pressing traditions into their kids’ hearts has yielded an insatiable appetite for more of everything. Why else would we be drawn so irresistibly to home base, to the same foods, the same seasonal activities, the same faces? I love it all. I am so thankful for this nourishing rhythm. So thankful for my small, young family of origin that has grown and matured into my very favorite group of adults and new children.

Of course we missed Joe (my middle brother) and Halee and their two handsome boys, who are living their U.S. Navy chapter in Spain, but they are happy and thriving. We enjoyed some Facetime screams and giggles with them as we feasted. They happened to be in Barcelona that day!

And we missed Dante (our first nephew) and his bride Deaven, who travelled to spend thanksgiving with her family in California. We had some Facetime laughs with Dante, too, and made sure he knew he was missing the most fun here with us.

Always, for so many holiday seasons over the years, we missed Jocelyn. We are hurting for her and for Jessica, as grief is complex and has a way of intensifying around holidays. Yet even in this, I can give thanks, because the dense, soft warmth of family absorbs so much pain. The safe, circular walls of family keep the worst of the world’s darkness at bay. We can help the girls when they let us, and we always pray and stay ready when they retreat tp privacy.

Can you even imagine the party we are going to have when every single family member is here with us?

This weekend, Gen is back in Los Angeles. Each of our local households has retreated for a bit of rest and maybe holiday cleanup, Christmas gift shopping, and decorating. We’re enjoying a few quiet autumn days before December gains its own glittering momentum.

When I say my heart is full, I mean I feel both short of breath from it all and deeply slowed and rested. Like the simplest things are all we need.

And how wonderful that such a magical week can land me right back on the threshold of my amazing normal life.

Thank you for stopping here. And thank you to everyone who left such loving notes on recent posts. I hope your Thanksgiving was everything you needed it to be, and if not, I hope you know how to step into the next chapter wisely and lovingly. As we begin to observe some Advent weeks, please consider checking in here for some inspiration. I have some good things brewing!

“Thanksgiving was never meant
to be shut up in a single day.”
~Robert Caspar Lintner
XOXOXO

do I have resting worried face?

A few days ago while grocery shopping, I accidentally caught my own reflection in a narrow mirrored pillar, but I didn’t realize it was my own reflection. I definitely thought, for a split second, it was a stranger, a very worried, deeply sad, visibly distressed stranger. Her eyebrows were knotted upward, mouth pressed thin and downturned, overall countenance gray and dull. I smiled at her to cheer her up just as I was realizing my mistake.

As I retreated from the mirror, it sunk in that I had been walking around like that in public. Just broadcasting to strangers an outward expression of some private pain. It was unintentional, and I felt really ashamed. When I shared all of this with my husband later he said, “Yeah babe, now you know why I am always asking you if you are ok.” Yikes. Do I always look so sad?

Since this weird moment, I have been trying to be more conscious of how my inner storms are leaking out. I am making an effort to interact with the world a bit more lightly. To be clear, I don’t mean to suggest that we fake happiness or deny anything real or worth examining, but I have learned the value of smiling anyway. I have learned to just to acknowledge and accept my sadness then choose as often as possible to smile anyway.

To choose joy despite loss and grief and worry.

To accept humor and fun surprises with open arms, because they can be powerful tonics. Everything that counterweights hardship is a gift.

To vote for hope and optimism in the face of some scary unknowns. Count the victories, dwell on them!

I have learned to actively express gratitude for so many blessings, so much emotional comfort and practical safety and stability in the world. What extravagance. We are so loved.

I will actively choose to invest in healthy relationships, happy memories, and hope for our family’s future. Give thanks for people still living, for whom our prayers matter greatly, joy for friendships that uplift us and traditions that keep us grounded. These are glittering gifts.

Because winter is coming, I am consciously accepting the many luscious gifts of a long, slow, mild autumn, a healthy and colorful farm dotted with well fed, affectionate, hilarious animals. A house that keeps us comfortable and stimulated. I remind myself to go walk around the farm after I have finished my work, thankful for the weather and all the beauty around us. Every single beautiful day is a gift.

Instead of focusing on the precious time we lost with Jocelyn and Jessica, instead of focusing on the abuse they endured all those years, I am focusing on their lives now, and on Alex and the pups, who we love dearly. We are focusing on these kids’ unbelievable capacity to heal and rebuild, on their tenacity and wisdom, their tender love and unnatural beauty. Every text, every visit, every hug, is a gift.

We truly have so much to celebrate. This doesn’t mean we are forgetting about yet unanswered prayers; it only means we are saying thank you for so many prayers that have already been answered, after years of waiting and hoping and striving.

How could we ever give up on any miracle we crave? So much has fallen straight out of the sky for us. I want to more often express that hope and joy physically. My face should more often reflect my deep hope and abiding joy, instead of my worry.

Today I was in a different grocery store and was actively framing my thoughts and making an effort to smile at and chat with everyone. My heart was freshly refilled with the same strong worries, the same toxins, but I just acknowledged them and persisted in drumming up the better schools of thought. Though I never accidentally caught my own reflection, I think my vibration was better than a few days ago. Everyone smiled back at me, and lots of people stopped to chat. It was wonderful and sweet. A young man approached me and asked my age, and how was I today, and a generous offering of just so pretty, and do I need anything at all? It was sweet and kind and unnecessary, and it helped me feel like I was back in society a little bit. Like maybe I wasn’t scaring people away with my facial expression.

Handsome and I talked things through over dinner, and my heart settled onto some good, warm truths. Yes, we are surrounded by worries. We are traumatized and wounded, and we are occasionally weary. We are waiting for some precious answers in the world, as you are too. It is wise and useful to share our concerns but not dwell on them. Much better to dwell on the amazing goodness and unseen beauty headed our way.

So, if I have crossed your path recently and resonated sadness, I am very sorry for that. I am sorry for ever spreading darkness over light. Maybe admitting this will at least let people know that my constant encouragement to choose joy do come from a place of knowing it is sometimes a very difficult choice. I know it is not always easy to cling to, but it is always worth it. Keep choosing joy.

Signed,
Mrs. Resting Worried Face

forty eight years and still going strong xoxo

Please join me in congratulating our parents on their forty-eighth wedding anniversary!!

((Mom, baby me, and Dad, circa 1974.))

Forty eight years. All easy, mostly uneventful, and never scary or sad.

Ha! I am kidding of course, but the best part of that joke is that somehow they do make it seem easy; and despite all the very real life storms they have weathered together, they are still here all these years later looking fresh and happy and very much in love. Mom and Dad give all married couples, young and old, an encouraging glimpse at not just longevity, but also deep and abiding love and joy. It is quite a thing to behold.

Because, couples can stay together just to say they did, or they can grow together and thrive in new and ever expanding ways. They can face trials side by side and make memories left and right, out of thin air. In a good marriage you can laugh mightily and cry honestly. You can raise a family, build and rebuild and furnish and remodel a home. You might travel less than you deserve to and work harder than you should have to, but eventually the balance is restored. You endure and celebrate and eat well together, week after week, year after year, for nearly five decades. And still have steam in your marital engine.

I truly believe that Love begets Love, in the same way that dreams beget more dreams. Life begets life. God offered us this mechanism for building powerful momentum in our lives. This must be why Mom and Dad are not just here at this milestone but, more importantly, lively and energized at it. Still refreshing the home they started on 41st street so many years ago. Getting their passports to travel the world. Always showing up for their grandkids, in every imaginable way, really in all the ways they showed up for the five of us kids, all of our childhoods and still today. We don’t deserve them.

((Mom and Dad with our entire family, missing only three of the grand kids. Baby Connor was asleep and my two girls were back in Oklahoma. We all traveled to Virginia to celebrate my brother’s change of command in the Navy.))

Our friend Mickey once paid our family perhaps the highest compliment he could. He said, “You come from a long line of effort,” referring to my family and our parents and all the love that flows through us. Though I had never thought of it in quite those words, I agree with him. We might not come from a long line of extreme wealth or pedigree or any other worldly measure, but man. We are totally saturated and fortified by effort. I think that of all the inheritance a family could receive, this must be the best. Effort and the truest forms of Love and acceptance, no mater our mistakes.

Handmade everything. Meals from scratch. Family nights and date nights made up of fun and silliness more than material possessions. Healthy habits that were way ahead of their time. A family business built from the ground up, one that sustained hundreds of young families over the decades. Innumerable traditions that, though often simple, have stood the test of time. We all carry into our own adult lives dozens (maybe hundreds) of yearly traditions that Mom and Dad instilled in us. I love that. I love it so much, to feel my childhood so vividly now, in my daily life, and in the seasonal rhythms.

((At my parents’ 40th anniversary party. Amore! xoxo))

Mom and Dad, thank you for building such an Empire of Love and Effort for all of us, for our spouses and children and friends. You continue to exemplify humor in the face of stress, tenderness in the presence of grief, steadfast commitment always, and this steady drip of ease and affection no matter how hard you are working. We are all so lucky to have your marriage as our bedrock. Your choice to start a life together forty eight years ago has flourished into a powerful sense of Home for so many people, and we all appreciate it.

My wish for you on this very special anniversary is layered: Lots of romantic meals, just the two of you. Plenty of family game nights. One very big and memorable trip to Spain soon. All of your home projects finished and thrilling you to pieces. And ongoing health and vitality so you can enjoy the fruits of so much labor.

Thank you for taking good care of yourselves and each other, so we can enjoy you all these years and into the future. Thank you for building the life you have, so we can see how it is done. Thank you for being our Mom and Dad, no mater what. Happiest anniversary.

XOXOXOXO

springtime in october

Hello again, and happy almost Halloween, 2021! A lot has happened at the farm since last I wrote here, and I know a lot has happened in your world, too.

May be an image of 2 people

We remark so often these days on the paradoxical grinding whirlwind of time, how it seems to both hover on a moment or a task and also spin wildly, too fast, all at once. How the days and weeks and months are accumulating and dissolving into memory like no year we have ever experienced before. It’s easy to guess why life feels this way right now, after the (forgive me) unprecedented chapters we have all survived. We taste life so fully now, all of us, and we like it. We cannot get enough of it. We are gluttons for living and living fully.

I am awake alone, writing this in an ultra quiet house at three in the morning, windows open with mild air seeping in, not even a trace breeze. I am enjoying the luxury of perfect coffee hot and strong in my grateful mouth and belly and my brain firing with new thoughts. The night sounds are muted, and my heart is grateful for a happy farm, for safe, well fed animals and for all these gardens that are not just thriving in autumn but refreshed, colorful, very much alive and ready for something miraculous to happen.

Everything happening is miraculous.

We are living a season of springtime in the midst of autumn. Not just this spectacular weather, but also a renewing of body, mind, and spirit. However quickly time seems to be passing, it is passing with great meaning and accomplishment. Time and energy seem to rush and flow through us like the cold Thompson River in Estes Park, powerful and cleansing, life giving. It feels incredible, this renewal. The fruits of our ongoing labor feel incredible, too. From one corner of life to another, we see goodness and give thanks for it constantly.

May be an image of 2 people, people standing and indoor

I continue to swell with pride for my husband’s professional life; how his personal evolution is bringing everything he touches along for the exciting ride. Every week we build and improve the farm, sometimes making huge changes and sometimes just tightening things up, suiting them just to our liking and hopefully the animals’, too. Our multi-generational family time is warm and glittering, an ongoing gift that truly is a dream come true. Mom and Dad are so much fun. Jessica and Alex and their sweet pups are limitless sources of joy! We are surrounded by siblings and nieces and nephews and friends who might as well be family. Every week we gather to celebrate something big and wonderful, and I love it all.

May be an image of 1 person, standing and outdoors

When Jocelyn rejoins us for the second time in this crazy life, she will have such a powerful nest to enjoy. We miss her like crazy, but in a happy, expectant way right now, not a grieving way. Like the way I felt just before she was born. This time, though, I’ll wait for it to happen naturally. She is worth every single minute of waiting. The party is going strong, showing no signs of slowing down, and she can join in anytime she is ready.

May be an image of outdoors

I have lost track of all the answered prayers. I walk the farm and meditate intentionally every day, and I try to journal enough to keep up with it all, but the avalanche of goodness is more than I can keep up with. Sometimes it literally makes me giddy, delirious with gratitude. I hope that the condition of my heart and the effort to acknowledge it here an there is enough of a thank you. Thank You.

More soon, but before I signoff, a great journal prompt:

“How much overlap is there between
what you say is important to you
and how you spent your attention
over the last month?”
~James Clear (author of Atomic Habits)
XOXOXO