Lazy W Marie

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

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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

life lately, as we approach the end of july 2021

Well, my summertime blogging streak did not last long, ha! But I am happy to be back at my keyboard, brimming with good feelings and stories worth sharing and enough words to match.

Since last we spoke, Handsome and I celebrated twenty years of marriage, all wrapped up in a solid month of celebrations, farm visitors, staycation weeks, and some projects sprinkled in, just for good measure. We reunited with a few beloved friends, sparked a couple of new friendships, and spent lots of time (and money) eating restaurant food. We also celebrated our youngest niece’s birthday. How is Kenzie fourteen already??

The farm is, as I type this, still unreasonably green and lush for late July. The year’s extravagant rainfall and mostly below average temperatures have really shown us how much wants to grow here, given the right conditions.

We are flush with tomatoes, marigolds, blackberries, tomatillos, zinnias, herbs, roses, hydrangeas, and more. Soon, we will have okra and squash in abundance. Until a few weeks ago, the easement along the front edge of our property was bursting with tall prairie grass and wave upon wave of bright yellow wildflowers. Call them weeds I you want to, but I love them. The front field, where we have the winding meditation path, also boasts these beautiful natural features along with some blue wildflowers and a smattering of hot pink cosmos and rusty colored amaranth. I am smitten by the textures, depth, and variety. We recently invested in a brand new zero-turn mower with a generously sized deck, so Handsome can more easily maintain the paths out there. If you visit us, please take a few minutes to wander! I promise you there are good vibes in the quiet where Chunk-hi used to play, and you might see the flattened hiding spots where the deer sleep.

Speaking of good vibes, we are still buzzing with romance and gratitude from our big anniversary party. We filled the house and south lawn with a few dozen friends and family to renew our vows with happy witnesses, eat some decadent cake, and dance ourselves into blissful exhaustion. It was a much anticipated event that was twice nearly ruined by weather, but at the last minute, on the second reschedule, everything came together and everyone had a great time.

We still feel so cushioned and energized by everyone’s love and support. Good marriages don’t happen in a vacuum, after all; we feel lucky to be integrated into such a healthy community. Twenty years! Twenty years of adventure, ups and downs, terrifying moments with our kids, heartbreak with extended family, evolving friendships, paradigm shifts, incredible career trajectory, romance and tradition-curating, and of course this little farm experiment of ours. Two decades of absolute amazement that we still get to live with each other, still get to build the exact kind of life we want and enjoy the daily process of loving each other. It all feels way too short and fast.

The same weekend that we celebrated twenty years, Jess and Alex celebrated six months! Already these gorgeous young kids have made memories and tackled life curveballs together, working hard and loving their pups along the way. We are so proud and happy.

Are you reading anything worth sharing? In the morning minutes while I drink coffee and wait for daybreak, I am still working through Ask and It Is Given as well as a perpetual devotional by Bob Goff and a new book about the connection between gardening and mental health. More on that third book, soon. The rest of the day and evening, when I manage to claim some time to sit and read, I have sworn myself to only fiction. It’s a way for me to capitalize on summertime freedom, ha. Recently, a Tana French book blew me away: The Witch Elm. Everyone who likes this author says to also read her Dublin murder squad series, which I intend to do. This week I am reading Silent Corner by Dean Koontz. He is one of my all time favorite writers. Like a good, lose-yourself-worthy palate cleanser.

Last month, Jessica read The Particular Sadness of Lemon Cake, and I read it a second time to discuss with her. Ten years later, with so much about life that is vastly different now, was a wholly different experience. Hearing my adult daughter’s remarks was unforgettable.

She was a baby the first time, recently gone from us, and my world was spinning and bottomless. Now she is “home,” and I understand so much more about the hell she and her sister endured in those years. I wonder what will have changed ten years from now, if we were to read the book again, what healing can have happened. Will Jocelyn be whole and home and fully returned to us, a second time? (She is okay now, but we are not completely okay without her.) Will we have grandchildren? Will my husband be talking about retirement or consulting work? Will I have published five or six or ninety books? Will someone have found the safe cure for squash bugs and grasshoppers, and will our kitchen walls be opened yet?

One more update to share before I close this up and see where I can move the needle around the farm today: We have been invited to participate in the 2021 Oklahoma Master Gardeners’ Garden tour! So on the last day of September, a tour bus (or two?) filled with talented, passionate local gardeners will spill out into the driveway of our farm, and we will welcome them for a little exploration. Lots of changed here since the same five years ago, and I know that August and September will bring rapid changes in the vegetable garden and flower beds, but overall I excited to share our space and reconnect with the gardening community. I had pulled away from volunteering when our life could not bear so many hours away, but gosh I have missed the people.

Pat, one of my sweet, smart class mentors,
and Elizabeth, a mind blowing multi-talented woman!

Keep dreaming up what you want, friends. Remember that it is a different act of faith that dreaming against what you don’t want. Keep visualizing the fruit of hope and work and Love in vivid detail, and walk steadily toward every big and small thing that brings you joy and satisfies you. It is good work, the business of keeping your flames fanned and lively.

“You gotta imagine what’s never been.”
~Sue Monk Kidd
The Secret Lives of Bees

grateful for this fathers day

Father’s Day 2021 holds, more than ever before, a mix of joy and gratitude, grief and anger, really the full spectrum. All of it can coexist, as we know, and all of it does.

My own Dad and my own precious husband continue to dazzle us with their steadfast love and hard work, despite what pain each of them hides. They both make fatherhood look easy, as if loving, providing, protecting, and guiding are what they were born to do. Even when their own needs for love and help, some fatherly support, might be lacking. Somehow, they always find new resources to draw on and make the magic happen.

Then my girls. They face this Father’s Day weekend, the first one, really, without their Dad. Last year on Father’s Day, the shock of his suicide was so raw, so included in that long, black storm. A year has passed now, and they have survived every day, every month, every season, riding the waves and somehow staying afloat. Their feelings are not mine to share. What I will say is that I could not be more proud of how they have managed this, of the lives they are building as beautiful, resilient, talented, and life-filled young women. And I could not be more thankful for their individual health and the fact that they are cultivating a true, adult, sisterly friendship. Please keep them and their stepbrother in your warmest, strongest thoughts as they pass this painful milestone.

Silliness & pure joy!! xoxoxo

This morning I am in awe of how charmed my life has been because of good men. My Dad first and foremost, my excellent grandfathers, and so many fun and loving uncles, friends, and mentors, all stepping into my life year after year, showing up at just the right moments, causing me to believe so strongly in the goodness of men as a group that I have angrily resisted modern movements that say otherwise. I love these men. I love the shape and strength they bring to the world. I love the way their energy makes me feel.

And then my husband. The handsome young man who, twenty years ago, stepped eagerly into the thankless role of “stepdad” but loved two little doe eyed girls without any caveat. He might have first loved them because they were mine, but in no time at all he loved them genuinely for who they were, and he dove in greedily to cultivate relationships with each of them. When outside forces tried to puncture that enthusiasm, he only redoubled his love. When crises piled up and life got excruciatingly hard and did not relent, he also did not relent. He stayed and loved harder than ever, and he prayed big and small prayers with me, and with God we did move heaven and earth. Then he gave himself over, again and very happily, to the fun and celebration of being a Dad of young women, all those little girl memories stored up and warming us. He continues to lead and guide, protect, give freely, and remind them to be safe and happy and free. It is an indescribable peace to have him loving this little family.

We spent a frigid but sunny afternoon walking and playing at Lily Lake. She is in her element here. Can’t you tell? xoxo

It cannot be easy for men to be the giver of unwanted advice the deliverer of hard facts and protectiveness, the “bad guy” when what their kids and families want is not best for them. It cannot be easy for men to crave the entire world for their families and work themselves to the bone to make dreams come true, but still feel like it is never enough.

I hope my Dad and my husband always know deep in their hearts that what they do is far more than enough. That what they say sinks in and inspires us. That how they love us day after day, year after year, makes all the difference in the world, whether life is bright and easy or dark and stormy. I hope they both know that we need them now more than ever, and that we love them and are proud to be theirs, no matter how they feel day to day. I also hope that my father in law knows that the foundations he laid for his son are still strong, still solid, and still thrumming with Love.

Harvey Wreath 1995

My gratitude overwhelms me today. Gratitude for the stability we all enjoy because of our Dads’ and husbands’ faithfulness and steadfastness. The comforts we all enjoy because they go to such great lengths to show their love in new and creative ways. The peace we all feel because, when it could have turned out so differently at so many points in time, we still get to be a family.

Tonight, when so many families cannot, we get to gather for a casual, delicious, laughter filled, memory making dinner. We have the inexpressible luxury of looking our men in the face and saying thank you for guiding us, protecting us, listening to our hopes and dreams, and flowing with the unending chaos of life.

Happy Fathers’ Day, and may Love and absolute peace and joy overwhelm you today.

may 15th already?

A few days ago, between dinnertime and sunset, my husband and I were meandering around the south lawn when I spotted a dangling bouquet of scarlet red strawberries growing in that narrow, sandy little elbow near the Chinese umbrella trees. I picked a few for us to sample, and we simultaneously exclaimed at how sweet and juicy they were. So sweet! So juicy! Then he finished chewing and swallowed his and said, with complete sincerity, “That’s like a free strawberry!” It’s why we garden, folks. It’s for the free strawberries.

Please enjoy this very typical photo of Meh aggressively smooching Jess:

Speaking of Jessica, on her invitation, I just devoured The Art of Racing in the Rain by Garth Stein. It is easily one of the most moving stories and beautifully written books in my life, so far. It should perhaps be required reading for anyone thinking of adopting a dog. Bonus points to the author for layering in plenty of messaging about manifestation and mind power. I loved it and cried and laughed out loud and cried again as I sped through the pages. This is the second time Jessica will have read it, and we are excited to sit and discuss it soon. The first time she read it was during our dark chapter of separation, something neither of us chose or wanted. Funny how life can twist and turn and give us myriad ways to reclaim what we have lost.

Myself, I am rereading An Other Kingdom, which I first read the winter preceding pandemic. Its themes and pointed spiritual challenges are even more throbbing neon today. Then, they were exciting, counter cultural ideas; now they are expressions of what so many of us have learned (maybe the hard way?) these recent stressful months.

“My life is either the performance of a deathly liturgy or the possibility of something alive, a liturgy of aliveness.”

The 2021 Lazy W gardens are mostly in and growing steadily. No overnight successes or transformations here, but rather a steady stream of seeds disappearing into the fertile earth and flats of annuals and new herbs here and there to fill in the gaps. I have added six different rose bushes (who am I?) to various beds and replaced two big ornamental grasses that did not come back after the brutal winter. Otherwise, I think all of my shrubs and perennials made it, even the crepe myrtles, hydrangeas, and azaleas. The daylilies promise to be stunning this summer. This year my food growing efforts are very much blended in with my flower growing indulgences. It’s all a big crazy, celebratory mix, is what I’m saying. Especially because I neglected to label much as I planted, what we see week to week is what we are gonna get. It’s fine. My gardening mood this year is definitely chaos and color, with a hefty dose of welcome and abundance.

Both last Saturday and this morning, Handsome and I attended small, local car cruise ins. These aren’t exactly car shows; they are casual gatherings for car collectors to mingle, enjoy a cup of coffee and maybe a free donut. During covid shut downs and quarantines last year, we missed 100% of the scant car events, so being back out and about, seeing friends we hadn’t seen in a year has been wonderful. We made a new friend too, and she happens to live on our road out here in Choctaw! Wonders never cease. She is brand new to Oklahoma, so I am having fun getting acquainted and bragging about my home state.

I hope you are doing well, friends! I hope that your mother’s day weekend, however you were able to celebrate, was loving and happy. I was spoiled rotten as per the usual, and I got to spend quality time with both my parents and my youngest girl (and Bean). Jess cooked a beautiful brunch, complete with a set table and handwritten letter. What’s better than your little toddler baby bringing you breakfast in bed, is your grown woman child inviting you to her house for a perfect meal.

That, and my hopes and beliefs for Jocelyn are so strong and exciting right now, I almost cannot find the words to wrap around the feeling. I wake up every day knowing in my bones that if I don’t see her that day, I am one day closer to seeing her. And my dreams about her are radiant and strong.

For personal reasons, I needed a little reprieve from the writing pandemic stories, but now I am ready to dive back in. Two more are in the wings being edited, plus three or four potential new interviews, and I am excited to share them all with you. Have you enjoyed reading them? Everyone has been so vulnerable and forthcoming. I have gleaned much more from this whole project than I expected to.

Okay. Onward to the rest of Saturday. Thank you so much for checking in!

“Well being is the only stream that flows.”
~Abraham Hicks
XOXOXOXO