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

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

“I knew it would happen today!”

Three seperate times this week, a question has found its way into my view, and I cannot resist exploring it with you:

What if you woke up to discover
that all of your prayers had been answered?

One version of this idea was related to health and fitness. I woke up feeling great, which led to being curious about how different my routine would look if every bodily niggle was healed, every aesthetic hope fulfilled, and all my energy topped off. Would I run more miles, or less, and how would other activities like pilates and yoga fit in, if I am moving to feel my best instead of solving problems? Would I go on more adventures instead of exercising, or would I still need that time alone?

Then I was indulging in how different our family will feel when Jocelyn rejoins us (again). How complete and alive we will be with her among us again. What a blinding joy that will be!

I hang onto the vision I had in December 2019, of her and Bridget walking up to the kitchen door on a sunny day. She is all smiles, her enormous brown eyes wet and bright, her sweet olive skin, equal parts woman and little girl. She opens the door tentatively, and we hug fiercely without missing a beat. Everything good floods in. All the love. All the colors. We are crying from laughing and laughing from hugging. Without reservation, she tells me everything she has been through these past few years, and I listen without giving advice. She sinks in. We missed each other so much. Bridget remembers us and brings BW rocks to fetch, and everything else falls away.

Jocelyn tells me that she can fix Dusty’s hoof if I want her to, and she gently chastises me for not riding Chanta like she knows I want to. We share new music and movies and cook dinner together. She likes that I still listen to the songs she gave me in Colorado, and she tells me all about her new romance. I do my best to relay my sorrow about her Dad. She is home forever this time.

Then.

I think about how much happier my husband is when his work is rewarding, how it’s not the exertion or the hours at the office or the extreme multitasking (he can handle anything) so much as it is the deep satisfaction of making a difference in the world and with his people. This is an ongoing miracle unfolding in our life, and I wonder how much better it still can be.

I am excited for post-pandemic family time, free socializing, hostessing, volunteering, travel, all of it. What will it feel like to throw a party again, to drive to New Orleans and the beach and to eat in restaurants? To annoy my friends again with attack hugs? So good.

We are just weeks away from true springtime, and that familiar knowledge, despite the arctic air headed for us this week, helps me feel some of this more concretely. The relief!

I can think of dozens more big miracles my heart craves and how it might feel to realize they have happened. That they are unfolding. Often when I am running at the lake or on trails, my mind is just playing movies, visualizing the fruition of our deepest hopes. It’s the fabric of prayer for me, the beautiful unfolding of all those petitions.

In fact, they are unfolding already. That is the root and truth of my faith. That everything is just a matter of time and trust. Everything expands and grows. Everything is subject to the power of Love, and on some level it already accomplished. Every good thing is very much worth the wait. Hang in there, friends.

“I knew it would happen today!”
~Shrek musical
XOXOXOXO

surprise wedding announcement!!

Have you heard our family’s big, happy news?
Jessica and Alex tied the knot!!

These sweet, smart young people have been loving each other for a couple of years now. They have felt committed and were living their lives as a team already (we absolutely love them together). And on Saturday, January 16, 2021, they said their vows and made it official in a tiny, intimate, purely blissful ceremony right here at the farm.

We really could not be happier or more proud of them both. Since they started dating, life has dealt them a series of violent blows, above and beyond Pandemic. And through it all Jess and Alex have worked hard and pursued their educations, learned each other deeply and rapidly, nurtured their friendships, woven each other into their respective families (we feel so connected to Alex’s family!), and created their own little culture of romance and domesticity. Plus they adopted Bean, ha!

Handsome and I have felt lucky to walk alongside them these past couple of years, getting to know Alex, witnessing their unique rhythms and their powers to overcome hardship. They have done more than survive; they have thrived. Grown and evolved. Made memories together. Lived life fully, as it meant to be lived.

When Jess called me (on January 2nd, two weeks before the ceremony!!) to tell me they were engaged, I was beyond thrilled but not the least bit surprised. Getting married was truly the most natural thing in the world for these lovebirds.

Their Wedding Day was magical in every sense of the word. Despite the January cold, we all felt that unmistakable glow of Love present among us. Sunshine sparkled. The flowers were intensely bright against the dormant landscape. Everyone smiled constantly “from ear to ear” as Alex later observed. We laughed a lot and filled our bellies with homemade Mexican food and lots of decadent cake. It was a real, true celebration of Love. A day saturated in romance and deliberate living. There was lots of playfulness, too, haha! Don’t worry, Alex caught her:

One day soon I will write about how it feels for my baby to be a married woman now, to share this particluar life experience. I suddenly cannot imagine her any other way.

Cheers to the future, Jessica and Alex. Marriage can be the best, most powerful human partnership, especially when it is infused with God’s power. It can be the foundation of all your life dreams come true and can allow you to be of greater service to others, which I know you both value. May you continue your adventures, taking time to nurture the world you create together and discover new and amazing versions of joy. We know you will love each other better and better, day after day. You are beautiful together, and we adore you both (and Bean, hehe).

Lean On Me
XOXOXOXO

Friends, I will be writing more about this happy family event
as the weeks progress, so stay tyned.
We have lots of stories to share in big chunks. xoxoxo

an easter week we will never forget

Tomorrow is Easter Sunday, easily my favorite holiday of the year.

Easter represents world-changing miracles and promises kept despite every opposition. Easter means new life. The best life, in fact, springing from absolute grief and apparent defeat. Easter is the resurrection of every good and pure thing, a celebration of the immovable power of Love.

Traditionally, Easter is fresh flowers and home cooked food, baskets filled with chocolate bunnies and colorful gifts, egg hunts and gingham and lace.

(a lifetime ago)
(one of our passover traditions)

Holy Week is also somber remembrances and Bible readings, “blood” around our front door, and white cloth on the cross. This holiday week has always been  busy with church activities and family gatherings, and the details sustain me. They all bind me together in deep places, providing that rhythm of renewal that we need over and over again. (There is no shame in needing renewal, by the way. We are designed for it.)

In many ways, I love Easter more than Thanksgiving and Christmas and the New Year, combined. Now is when everything actually feels new.

Easter is different this year, in quarantine, but it’s different in some magical ways. I feel it and smell it and hear it coming like birdsong at daybreak. We are renewing ourselves more than ever, despite the changes and limitations. Maybe because of them?

I hope you sense it too. I hope you are able to rest and breathe deeply, still capturing the essence of this special season. I hope you take all the time you need to distill and celebrate the best gifts, because they are still being offered.

(apple blossom)

I am not too upset by missing out on some of the man made trappings of Easter weekend. Traditions are, after all, just outward expressions of what matters to us, physical things we do to rekindle emotions we hold dear. We are all more than capable of accepting new circumstances and applying our imaginations and resources in new ways, to still conjure up those feelings. Maybe even amplify them. Maybe build some magic in brand new ways.

(our dessert tomorrow, for just the two of us)

How are you holding up? Or are you, actually, thriving in this weird time? On a cellular level, safe and hidden from the news cycle and statistics and angst about what is temporarily lost, are you at peace? Are you encouraged and nourished by what is being offered to us, and happy about what is right around the corner? I am. I feel it, like a heartbeat. I am breathing it in, like ozone and honeysuckle and fermenting sourdough. I see the green shoots of New Life bursting through clay and unfurling, silently. Surely. Right on time.

“Heaven took a deep breath and held it,
because everything was about to change.”
~Bob Goff
XOXOXO