Last Year's Strength is This Year's Inspiration

   Happy New Year friends! As we close the book on 2013 and open the first page for 2014, I am flooded with emotion. Absolutely drenched in thought and reflection on all the things we have experienced, suffered, learned, and enjoyed these past twelve months. A year ago I chose the word "strong" for the coming year, and it turns out I would need it more than expected.

   

   Learning to love these men more deeply, more generously, has required strength but it has offered me strength too. More than I ever thought possible. I am so thankful for them, so thankful to be Handsome's wife and his father's daughter-in-law.

   

   This little hobby farm of ours has seen wonderfully productive months, overflowing with eggs and veggies, herbs and fruits. I feel like a stronger gardener now and am so excited for the 2014 growing season. You know what takes strength in the garden? Dealing with broccoli caterpillars and squash bugs. 

  

   

   We have celebrated new life and soaked up all the magic that it brings. We have dealt well with animal injuries and illnesses and built a lot of strength for whatever comes next.

Dulcinea is so big now. We love her way too much. 

   

   And we have mourned heavily, bitterly. The anguish of grief that seems to come on a conveyor belt saps our strength and replenishes it all at once.

Judy Wreath

Tom Sawyer

My beloved Daphne

   We have made thousands of amazing memories with very dear friends in every corner of life. Handsome and I do not take lightly the gift of such close adult friendships. They have taught us a lot about ourselves, distracted us in painful times, and helped us laugh uncontrollably pretty much all the rest of the time. Our friends have been patient with us, too.

   This past year brought opportunities to reach new goals and be inspired toward bigger ones.

   And books have played such an important role in my life. I can say with a lot of joy that reading has infused me with much needed strength. I am so thankful for this. So thankful for my book club. So thankful for all of it.

   So what for this new year? Yesterday, New Year's Eve, brought new worries and challenges for our little corner of paradise. All we could think yesterday was how overwhelmed we were, how tired and spent, how gun-shy of the next major life change (there have been so many this winter). But this morning? This morning I am full of brightness. Full of energy to dream big. 

   

   This morning I feel one-hundred percent inspired to not be desperate, but to be still and focused. To keep my face bent toward the Light, where I know Truth and Love and Peace reside.

  

   So...Happy New Year from the Lazy W! Handsome and I feel so grateful for this life we have been given and for the wonderful people who share it with us. We are once again on the verge of major life changes, so your prayers and love are appreciated, as always. 

   

   But we're not afraid. We are strong. Filled with Love. Ready to face anything one day at a time. 

Much love from our home to yours!

XOXOXOXO

Icy Weekend, Ugly-Beautiful

   We woke before sunrise to the buzz of electronics losing power. An ice storm had moved through Oklahoma while we slept, and eventually the pale dawn revealed a hobby farm thickly encased by glassy, stubborn, frigid ice.

Oklahoma ice storms are beautiful but brutal.

   Our animals are all fine, thankfully. Their extra fat and fur are keeping them all plenty warm, and they also have shelter, high protein food, and forage. The power outage changes life inside the house significantly, though. And on a would-be very busy Saturday filled with holiday plans and tasks, succumbing to frustration would have been easy. But we really didn't. (Not much, at least. wink!)

   Thanks in no small part to Ann Voskamp's book One Thousand Gifts, which gently nudges us to see the beauty in challenging situations, and also thanks to just a rich dose of Christmas cheer lately, my heart was light enough today to do just that. To see (mostly) magic in this unexpected Saturday Before Christmas. And you know what? Soon that is all I could see. I can't even see the ugly any more.

********************

   I am so thankful for the breathtaking beauty of the gardens right now. These frozen herbs, these bent and frozen zinnias, all of this natural wonder in perfect wintry suspense.

When people say you can freeze your fresh herbs, this is probably not what they mean.

 
   It means we grew amazing things this year, that this little curve of earth is no longer void. It means that another swell of paradise is coming next year.

   I am so thankful for the freedom and ability to buy nice gifts for so many children we love. We do not take this for granted; nor do we take their presence in our life for granted. Handsome and I are very lucky to be called "Uncle" and "Aunt." We cherish it. Have I ever mentioned to you that we have three million nieces and nephews? Well we do.

The Christmas memories you make are far more valuable than any gift you purchase. Please remember this.

  I am also thankful for the warm, pleasant feelings of nostalgia that washed over me all day, remembering so many little-girl Christmas seasons with our own children. This year, bitterly sad for so many new reasons, is oddly the first year I didn't cry the whole time I shopped for gifts. In fact I caught myself giggling over and over, remembering so many fun things Handsome and I have done together over the years, things we did to surprise the girls and give them the best Christmas we could, year after year. Above all, we made memories. Now more than ever, this is clearly the most important part of all the work parents do at the holidays.

   I am so thankful for a messy living room, strewn with wrapping paper, Sonic ketchup packets, pine branches and other kindling, clean laundry, and unread books. I am thankful for the fluffy little dog my Father-in-Law has brought to live with us, because she brings so much new affection to our home. I am thankful for the paper whites blooming, for the pillows and soft blankets that beg us to cuddle, and for the candy canes, popcorn, and hot chocolate we can have for dinner. Because we're grown ups and allowed to do that if we want.

The consolation of a deep, cold winter is a glowing living room.

   All of this means that we have a full life bursting with people we love and activities that truly nourish us. It means we have a home, not a perfect house. It means we work hard enough to relax on the weekend.

   I am so thankful for this small, colorful, happy little kitchen. I am thankful for this wall hook crafted my loving husband, loaded with slightly soiled aprons. I am thankful for that honey bee photo on canvas, a gift from our friend M when she and Hubs went to Alaska recently.

   This room reminds me that we always have plenty to eat. We often are surrounded here by people we love and who love us, and that I have been cooking lately with my youngest daughter, with friends, and by myself, feeding very special people, creating meals and desserts that nourish our bodies and make us priceless memories. 

********************

 
   Difficulties abound, no doubt about it. But so does sweetness. So do opportunities to make really special, one-of-a-kind memories. Love reigns supreme if we allow it to.

"Finally, brethren, whatsoever things are true, whatsoever things are honest, whatsoever things are just, whatsoever things are pure, whatsoever things are lovely, whatsoever things are of good report; if there be any virtue, and if there be any praise, think on these things." ~Philippians 4:8

   I hope this finds you making the most of whatever circumstances are thrown your way. I hope your Christmas wish list is longer on "Fun to Have" and "Love to Show" than it is on "Things to Buy." And I hope that, despite the romance of a power outage, you have all the electricity you need!

"He who has not Christmas in his heart
 will never find it under a tree."
 ~Roy L. Smith
XOXOXOXO

You BETCHA I am the Perfect Age!

   Oh Margi. Margi, Margi Margi.

   First you infuse my week with those strong, beautiful words, #furiouslyhappy. Then you throw down this challenge to a group of writerly women to declare why we are at the perfect age. Whew!

Here I am with Margi sitting on a plaster cow. 
Eating the best local ice cream Austin has to offer.

Margi feels like my younger big sister 
who forgot to grow up in Oklahoma City with me. 

My husband loves her. Even my Momma loves her. xoxo

   What an inspiration you've been this week!

   As an aside, may I just mention how good it feels to be included in this writerly group? Really good. I admire each of you ladies so much. Suzanne, the smart, quietly spiritual momma who writes her heart out at Periphery. Brittany who mesmerizes me almost to tears over at Vesuvius at Home. Jen who is not only a writing inspiration but a marathon-running one, too (remember she visited the farm last year to discuss her book with our book club?) and blogs at Jennifer Luitweiler. Jen in running the Route 66 marathon today! Rose, a sweet, funny fellow Okie who LOVES my gander and blogs at OK Roserock. Mama Kat. The Bloggess. And Brene Brown. See what I mean? Amazing women. I am in the company of truly amazing women.

   Okay, here we go.

********************

   At this writing I am just past 39 1/2 years old. By the time next year's earliest veggies are sprouting in an egg carton on my sunny windowsill, I will be 40. And that is exactly the perfect age for the life I've been given. Our culture sort of tells me I should freak out about this, but I just don't. As a child, the adults ahead of me seemed fairly traumatized by this four-oh milestone, so I feel truly relieved to be so happy at this point. Care for some evidence?

   I have been married to the love of my life for more than a dozen fascinating years. We have had plenty of time and millions of opportunities to build an incredible bank of memories and traditions, a magnificently rich, beautiful life together. We spent most of our twenties together and all of our thirties. AND we are still young enough to not hurriedly enjoy our financial security, travel, health, and romantic inclinations. I look forward to growing old with this incredible man, becoming grandparents, retiring, all of it. Every speck. S-L-O-W-L-Y.

   My babies are now 16 and 18 years old. Healthy, strong, beautiful, smart, talented, good hearted, loving, and each of them on a path to a very, very good life. Loved unconditionally, just amazing sources of Light themselves. My heart tells me that prayers are being answered for them long before my eyes will see proof, and that is thrilling. Even from this little distance, I am so grateful to see my girls become young women. It's a gift not given to everyone. Right now I am stable enough to help them and provide a home for them should they want it. And if in the future either of them decides to start a family of her own, then I will still be young enough to really enjoy being a grandma. It's the best of both worlds.

   This feels like the perfect age for so many reasons. In (almost) forty years, I've made plenty of serious mistakes but have learned so much. I feel steady and calm. Past those turbulent, insecure growth-spurt years and now plenty energetic, capable, and imaginative enough to manage this silly hobby farm.

   Right now I have both the time and the ability to train for my first full marathon next April, something that wasn't even on the radar ten or twenty years ago. And while I could have done so much more for my health back then, I am super happy to have a grip on things now, before the next season of life dawns. Perfect.

   This is the perfect age to have a large, welcoming home for our friends and family. I am not slave to any complicated schedule; I get to decide my own work days and farm days. And I am no longer mystified by domestic things. In fact, I kind of love it, the cooking and the cleaning and the staying home and the being as quiet or as silly as I choose.

   Because at this perfect age we have so many great friends! And if I am diligent here at home, then Handsome and I are always ready to have fun at the drop of a hat. And that is pretty golden. Speaking of good friends, another wonderful woman Marci and I were just this week remarking on how we both are enjoying deeper, more meaningful adult friendships than any other time in life. How incredible! What a gift. Not something to take for granted, folks.

   This is the perfect age for being a true-blue bibliophile. Seriously. I lacked the attention span in high school. I had the desire but not the time when my babies were babies. And then for a while I was just too sad to read. Now? Bring me all your books. All of them. Every genre. I feel like maybe it's the curious, thirsty, philosophical women in their late thirties who should be issued mandatory reading lists instead of awkward messy hormonal teenaged girls. But no one asked me.

   This is also the perfect age to really dig deep with the garden. (Did you see what I did there?) I have a couple of decades of true learning under my belt now,  and I am plenty young and healthy enough to work hard at implementing all of it. Watching my Grandpa, I still have several decades to garden. Perfect.

********************

   So, I feel really great. The perfect age for me. Yes, there are days when I feel bristly toward younger, prettier, more accomplished women. I sometimes wish I could rewind about twenty years to make better life decisions then and always be a size six, etc. But as the saying goes, why question broken roads that lead to paradise? Haven't I been given every opportunity for my particular dreams to come true? Yes. And I am so grateful.

   There are also days and seasons when my maternal heart aches wistfully for the baby years or the school day years with my beautiful miracle girls, slices of my own heart that they are. But there is no shame in nostalgia. God has eased my memory of those deepest pains, replacing them with unparallelled hope and excitement. I lack the words to describe it to you. I'm at the perfect age to sense it. Old enough to sort through the spiritual impressions and young enough to still be amazed by them.

   So what do you think? have I convinced you that I am at the perfect age for my own beautiful, crazy life?

   And how do you feel about YOUR life? I would love to know. Join Margi's sweet, smart challenge and let us hear it. Check out the other bloggers, write your thoughts, spill your guts.

   Thanks very much for stopping in! Oklahoma is bedding down with sleet and snow today, so I am about to go enjoy a cozy day with Handsome and his Dad. Reading, Eating. Cuddling. You know, just being the perfect age.

XOXOXOXO




 
 

 

 
 
 

How it Goes

   Last night we celebrated my parents' fortieth wedding anniversary here at the farm. Loved ones came from near and far to congratulate them and encourage them on a hard earned and really happy milestone. It was a lot of fun and much deserved. My parents are the best and are loved by so many people.

   Still, of course, it was a terribly bittersweet celebration in the wake of losing Handsome's Mom. When Judy passed away, she and Harvey were on the eve of their own fortieth anniversary party here at the farm. I don't think we'll ever forget that detail. So, as beautiful as the evening was in a thousand ways, it was fraught with difficult emotion. All rooted in love.

   I will tell more of these stores as we go. For now, a sudden insight from video gaming.

********************

   Today after church, Handsome, his sweet Dad, and I went to lunch with Handsome's sister and her beautiful family. Everyone is understandably steeped in sadness right now. The shock of their Mom's death is wearing off. The crowds have all gone home. And the pain is visceral.

   In a deliberate effort to lighten the mood and give the kids at the table something upbeat to think about for a while, my husband, "Uncle B" as he is known to the kids, struck up a conversation with our blue-eyed middle-school nephew Koston. About Minecraft.

   Koston is a Minecraft devotee. A Minecraft guru. A Minecraft genius it's fair to say.

   Uncle B made a few remarks about the difficulty with which his own Minecraft adventure had recently started. He complained good-naturedly about the built-in obstacles and frustrating surprises that come with trying to build something from nothing in this imaginary digital world. He was playfully soliciting sympathy from his nephew.

   Koston, this blue-eyed boy who I have come to love so dang much, grinned just a little, shook his head casually, and said, "That's just how it goes at first."

   "That's just how it goes?!" Uncle B objected with a measure of exaggeration. I couldn't help but laugh. My husband has a way of slicing through a really thick atmosphere. I love him for this. Some people may interpret it as irreverence, but they're flatly wrong. It's nothing but love.

   "That's just how it goes." Koston chuckled a little and shrugged one shoulder. I am guessing he thought it hilarious to be giving any kind of instruction to his tall, strapping, accomplished Uncle, the man who is anchoring the entire family right now. Koston's blue eyes were as clear as Mexico waters, just gazing steadily through his few words. He knows his stuff. Especially when it comes to Minecraft.

   "Okay! I guess!!" Uncle B laughed too and threw up his hands. Then he continued his mocked up complaints and prodding to get his boys to smile for a moment longer. For the most part, it worked.

********************

 
   I just keep wondering about the simple assurance Koston was providing with a grin and a shrug. That's just how it goes at first. So true. What's also true is how things tend to get better with time and effort. How the many games we play are still worth playing, no matter how difficult.

   And I keep hoping that everyone has lots of people nearby to give them this assurance when needed. I know I need it. Life is hard. A lot hard. And that's just how it goes at first. But I believe deep down that it gets better.

Be gentle with each other.
XOXOXOXO

Two Weeks Later, Love Remains

   This is gonna be an unusual blog post. Please forgive me if it's even more rambly than normal. I want to organize my thoughts and relay them poetically, with some meaning or message, but all I can muster right now are observations and a few cell phone photos.

All you need is love! And treats. Chunk-hi agrees. 

   The last two weeks since losing Handsome's Mom have in many ways been unlike any others in my life. Daily, hourly, by the moment, life has been unpredictable and volatile. On the other hand, some beautiful, familiar ribbons of love and stability have carried us from day to day. While we are once again broken in many places, the most important things between us have not changed, they have only strengthened. For this I am so grateful.

   The shock is just beginning to really fade. In its place I am seeing pain, confusion, loneliness, and much more. A flash of anger here and there. Judy was so much to so many people, that she is leaving a void no one person can fill. And she is gone far sooner than anyone was prepared to let her go.

   This is a time everyone relies on God to fill the gaps in our hearts, and He does, if we wait. We all try to be of service to each other, to be used in any way He asks. Preparing meals, cleaning, laundering, driving, listening, praying, organizing, repairing... Anything. But the grief is so ongoing, so revealing of a love that is deep and forever, that no tasks we perform from day to day really feel like enough. So we just keep trying.

brightontheday

   Handsome's sweet Dad, Harvey, is staying with us at the farm for as long as possible. I hope to share lots of his stories as time passes. He is wonderful, and many days I feel like I love him as much I love his son. We really appreciate having him here, and I only hope the togetherness is as good for him as it is for my husband. The farm had been filled with dozens of other beloved visitors day in and day out for the past two weeks, so now the three of us will begin to discover a new daily routine. I know already that everything will be different. That's okay.

   God is so good. I don't have to look too hard to find hidden blessings, special skinny little silver linings that take the edge off the pain, but I also feel incredibly guilty enjoying those gifts. The circumstances under which they have been sent are so hard, and most times as daughter-in-law I feel like on onlooker, sometimes even an intruder into a dark, terrible, intimate family room. I loved Judy very much and admired her perhaps more than I ever realized, but my grief is completely different from everyone else's. That's probably normal, I don't know.

Marci, thank you for this rare photo.

 

   The Tiny T love story will continue. I don't feel like writing it exactly, but last week I was really surprised to learn that my in-laws had been reading the series together and had even started making guesses about what kind of woman T would end up with. So, especially because I love my father-in-law so much, T will return pretty soon. I missed the 31 day challenge again, but the love story will keep going for as long as it needs to.

   The farm is torn between cold and balmy, between new life and a deep, chilling slumber. Several of us noticed with lots of wonder that the forests were all lush green until the day after the funeral. Now every branch is bearing as much gold, crimson, and russet as green. Still, though, the apple trees have been blooming again, like it's spring time. The herbs are still growing like it's June, except for the tell tale seed spikes begging to be collected. And we harvest peppers and tomatoes, day after day. Kind of amazing.

Apple blooms in autumn?

   The horses have already found their thick, fuzzy winter coats. Chanta is so silky right now, so tempting. When I need to cry I go to the middle field and lay across him, combing my fingers deep through the gold and white hair all over his big belly, and he wraps his neck over me.

   Today my baby brother and I will be preparing a fortieth wedding anniversary celebration for our parents. It's a wonderful occasion, and I'm so excited, but of course it's bittersweet. Judy passed away just hours before we were to celebrate forty years for her and Harvey. See? Life is so wildly extreme. So all over the place. We must be limber and strong.

   As I finish writing this, the late morning sun is streaming passionately through the big east window. Mammoth plants and flowers from the funeral are everywhere, gilded now and illuminated by the fresh new day. Really pretty and really sad. Just like every other detail lately. The living room is absolutely pulsing with color and light, and I have no idea what to do about that.

   Thanks so much for all of your kind words, for all of your prayers. Every single speck has been relayed to the family.

   There is much more to say. I don't know when I will write again, or about what, but for us life goes on. Love is steady and reliable, stronger than ever. There are dishes to rinse. Beds to be made smooth and comfortable. Animals to feed. Aprons to sew. There is plenty to do. And once again, for this I am so grateful.

Work is love made visible.
~Khalil Gibran
xoxoxoxo

Five Things That Should not Bother me as Much as They Do

   I have for many years held close to my heart a wonderful quote which speaks to the disproportionate power of small problems to weigh on your spirit even worse than the biggest trials:

"It isn't the mountains ahead to climb that wear you out;

it's the pebble in your shoe."

~Muhammad Ali

  Right? We can usually keep a large challenge in perspective, scaling it down, breaking it up into manageable pieces that we conquer one after another until the thing is done. Or maybe our deepest heartaches are surrendered because that's all there is left to do, and we bear the pain until the prayer is answered. But how often do life's smallest, weirdest annoyances drive us to the breaking point?

   Super often. Very often. All the dang time often.

   Following are some culprits in my life. The Big Stuff is in check. These things? They makes me use swear words. You know. Like my good buddy M.  : )

1. The wrong color of shopping buggy. It sets the tone for my entire shopping trip. It affects my decision making skills. It distracts me and causes me to buy too much coffee and lettuce and not enough freezer paper. Of all the possible buggy color choices, I simply cannot abide orange. Unless it is Thunder basketball season. Then only if I am wearing blue. I hate that this is so important to me, but it just is.

2.  Hammering my bony shin against the low metal bar of that stupid orange shopping buggy. Childbirth hurts less. I am pretty sure the fronts of my shins are both permanently dented. And it's not like walking more slowly helps that much! One wrong step and you're a victim.

3.  When people leave their hair styling products and hair brushes anywhere near the bathroom sink, where I brush my teeth. I have a very real mortal fear of getting hair in my mouth, so brushing my teeth where someone's hair might at any moment jump up on a light breeze and attack me... well, it is horrific. FOR-THE-LOVE-OF-GOD-BABE. I am begging you.

3.  Tangled up garden hoses. Especially when they are a hundred million miles long. Just kill me.

4.  House flies, squash bugs, and grasshoppers. In that exact order.

5.  Botching a great joke. Either by losing that good, funny rhythm or completely forgetting the punch line. This happens more than I care to admit.


   Whew!! I feel better. Thanks for listening. Now what silly little pebbles are stuck in your shoe?


"Adversity is like a strong wind. it tears away from us
 all but the things that cannot be torn,
 so that we see ourselves as we really are."
~Arthur Golden, Memoirs of a Geisha

p.s. Have you read Memoirs of a Geisha? Good movie, great book. Treat yourself.

Senses Inventory: Surprise Midmorning Rainshower

   This morning I was sitting in one of my red wicker lawn chairs, near the herb bed, drinking my last cup of coffee and making messy but intricate lists of things I want to do in all of the gardens. So many ideas, from lots more edibles to dedicated "wedding" flower beds, plots for animal foraging, and much more. The skies were moody and quiet, the clouds low, the animals in a muted kind of suspense. Then as I sat there enjoying the kaleidoscope visions in my head, a seductive little rainstorm washed over the farm. From the low northwest corner uphill to southeast, right on top of me and my myriad lists. It soaked my trusty spiral notebook. It washed the dirt off of my bare feet. It brought me gently back to reality.

   Obviously this necessitates a Senses Inventory.

See:  Black ink smudged on my lined paper. Raindrops splashing with abandon into my coffee cup. (I have mixed feelings about this.) Badly painted toenails. Bright yellow and orange marigolds, green pole bean vines, and red cannas in the herb bed. Wonderfully voluptuous mounds of basil and sage. Piles of withering weeds outside the herb bed, pulled this morning. An empty tuna can licked clean by Fast Woman. A purple haze of feathery prairie grass in the middle field. Low clouds in every shade of navy blue and charcoal. Seraphine looking at me with those arrogant but beautiful llama eyes, as if the rain was my idea.

Hear:  I heard the rain before I felt it; it was hitting the metal loafing shed downhill in a syncopated, excited rhythm several seconds before I felt the first cold drop. I still hear that chorus, as well as the birdsong of cardinals and crows and our neighbor's turkey gobbling and our own roosters crowing.

Touch:  Zero breeze again. The morning feels like New Orleans in so many lovely ways. I feel cool rain tapping my shoulder and running down the back of my neck and the fronts of my shins; the fringe of my cutoff denim shorts tickling my legs; and the squeak of the painted wicker on the stool beneath my bare feet. The air feels brackish... Warm overall with pockets of cool. My notebook gets heavier and heavier on my lap as it soaks up the rain.

Taste:   I sill taste minty toothpaste kisses collected from Handsome before he left for the office, and of course perfect sweet, creamy coffee. Also a New Orleans memory.

Smell:  Most fragrances this morning are green, green, green... the grass, the trees, the gardens, especially the herbs. My hands smell like oregano and lemon-thyme from grooming the plants a few minutes ago. I love this smell... But so near the pool I also smell a nice bleachiness. And so near the animal fields I also smell a nice manureness.

Think:  My mind's eye sees the gardens overflowing with so much delicious, healthy food that I can't share it or sell it fast enough. I'm thinking about the reflective properties of the Universe, that the more freely you give the more you will have for giving. I'm also thinking of some fun construction projects Handsome and I are planning for the pool area, things that will make gathering our loved ones even more awesome. I'm thinking of my girls, grown, coming home for the weekend with friends, boyfriends, husbands, grandchildren. Just coming home.

Feel:  Happy. So, so happy and truly relieved from some recent heartsick worries. Feeling deeply refreshed and powerful. Wide eyed and aware of how good life is. Thankful for how real miracles are.

Tiny Mr. T celebrating the Fourth of July at an Oklahoma car show.

   I hope you had a wonderful holiday yesterday! We sure did. It was by comparison a quiet Fourth for Handsome and me, but a very happy one. We have needed and enjoyed easy holidays lately.

   Redeem you time today, friends! Redeem your liberty, in every way that it presents itself. Soak up the detailed beauty all around you.

"I am chained to the earth to pay
for the freedom of my eyes."
~Anotonio Porchia
xoxoxoxo

Choosing Light

   I sat down this evening with the intention to write about the recent influx of pests in my garden. The past three or four days I have paid my potagerie very little attention, and now I'm paying the price. So I snapped a million photos of the insects that are thrashing my little speck of Eden and planned to share them and my attendant complaints about what each of them are doing to my personal happiness.

   Maybe, I thought, I can share some worthwhile information about organic pest control. That's the sugarcoating, my flimsy excuse to vent. Here's the ugly truth:  Maybe, I thought, I  can scratch this itch of rage by whining and moaning for a while, in gushing abandon all over my innocent keyboard. If I tell everyone how pissed I am (about this and other things) then surely I'll be happy again.

   Just scripting in my head what to say about bugs and loss and organic methods felt incredibly negative and, ironically, poisonous. The more I walked around outside, dwelling on the problems crawling at my shins, the less I could see the beauty around me. I saw only grasshoppers and forgot to celebrate yellow squash, straight, bright, and perfect. I saw only an herb bed full of grass and failed to notice until a while later that Dulcinea was running down to the pond, back uphill, and down again, splashing in the mud just for the fun of it. I failed to notice how many flowers have made colorful progress this week, despite my inattention.

   I cursed the mud on my bare feet instead of relishing the moisture.

   Then I came inside, made a desperate cup of coffee for dinner instead of food (Handsome and I are not sharing meals today), and started downloading the garden photos. My mean spirit was ready to spew a bunch of complaints and possibly even some vulgarity to the internet, thinking foolishly that getting it all off my chest will make me feel better. Not even caring what it would do to you. Or my husband.

   In those simmering, ugly moments I happened on this photo that I barely remember taking. The wild orange day lilies that flank my vegetable garden entrance are blooming heavily right now, and at this time of day when the sun hangs serenely over the pond, the most glorious light is cast over this scene.

The combination of a decades-old rusted bike with trumpet vine and day lilies makes me feels so at home.

   This is probably the only beautiful photo I took tonight. And seeing it took me completely by surprise. So I started meditating on a good bit of poetry or strong quote to pair with it.

   Do you know what I found, almost immediately?

"Darkness cannot drive out darkness;

Only light can do that.

Hate cannot drive out hate;

Only love can do that."

~Martin Luther King, Jr.

   Exactly what our book club has been studying lately, and what I have been gleaning from other good sources too,  in so many ways. The message is that combating my negative energy with more negative energy is futile. I have zero hope of vanquishing sadness and anger with complaints and cursing. That behavior will only make everything worse, for me and my loved ones. For Handsome. And dwelling on the weird things I fear is more likely to bring them to fruition rather than "prepare me for the worst," as my brittle ego declares it will.
 
   Obviously, tonight I am upset about far more important things than just garden insects. My heart has been dry and heavy. I was consumed with worry and shame, emptiness and just good old fashioned sadness. And I have felt weak, selfish, angry, sorry, rejected, indignant, and powerless to combat it this time. Tempted to shut everything down externally and just quit trying to be positive. Quit trying to matter and be so annoyingly buoyant. It's exhausting. And lonely.

   So the insects are kind of catching my wrath right now. Deservedly, I guess, because as small as they are they have the power to destroy my Eden. If I allow them to.

   As small as worries are, they can steal your joy. 

If you allow them to.

   I have a grip now. I remember that light is constantly available, and it is our strength.

   Light is in abundance, too. It's not a limited commodity. Darkness is powerless against it, so let it in whenever you have a choice. Which is every moment of your life.

   Thanks for listening, I hope I didn't inject a bunch of sadness into your world.

   And if you happen to have any organic gardening tips, send 'em my way! Find this blog on Facebook and post, post, post those ideas. I have a murderous week ahead of me.

   To my husband, if you read, this, I love you. To my children, if you read this, I love you.

   To my book club girls, thank you.

xoxoxoxo

 

Sunday Morning Meditation

   Early this morning, while my full household is still in a deep sleep,  I tiptoe outside with my first big cup of perfect coffee and notice a million wonderful things.

   Beach towels, socks, and tee shirts hang around the south lawn like gypsy caravan curtains. Wild birds chirp a lilting, effervescent soundtrack against the breeze combing through the oak trees. Romulus (our daddy llama) strolls through the shallow edge of the pond, splashing just a little. The sun begins to pour his molten blessings over the day, over every building, every tree, every fence post, every flower. Every thought and emotion.

   The same light breeze that combed through the oak trees now ruffles my un-brushed hair and delivers a slender blue dragonfly to my shinbone. I secretly hope that the sugar and cream in my coffee will attract more visitors, like maybe the hummingbird from yesterday, so I sit very still for a long time.

   The red wicker chair and footstool are for the moment the most comfortable seat in the world. The carrot ferns and potato plants are incredibly fluffy this morning. And behind me the squash vines have never been more lush.  My gaze shifts forward, past the lower edge of my vegetable garden and toward the pond. The pond is so glassy and content looking this summer.

   Suddenly but gently the thought occurs to me that without the recent years of drought I could not so fully appreciate the simple beauty of this overflowing pond. This small body of water would be common and unnoticeable to me instead of miraculous.

   Then the thoughts follows that without so many violent winds in recent months I might be less compelled to sit still on a Sunday morning and enjoy the stillness and drink in all of this mild and otherwise common beauty.

   And how can I ignore this next thought? That without the pain and echo of an empty nest, I might view two weeks of house guests as just extra work and thereby deny Handsome and myself the experience of so much wonderful pleasure and love.

   My arms and legs are heating up now in the sun, and my coffee cup is nearly empty. Roosters are finally crowing on both sides of me... ours to the east and north and a neighbor's to the west. A smaller dragonfly now hoovers near the yellow coreopsis at my elbow. It's definitely time now to rouse my temporary family and get them ready for church.

   But I feel like I have already had church here by myself.

   What abundance do you have in your life at this moment that you are able to more fully appreciate because of a loss or a previous difficulty? How many prayers have been answered in ways that buoy your hope for more?

xoxoxo
 

A New Book & a Stronger Hold on a Locked Worry Door

   This month our famous little Oklahoma book club, Dinner Club With a Reading Problem, is trying something a little different. We are reading Marianne Williamson's A Return to Love, which I have just started and am already, well loving. Thank you sweet Stephanie for the assignment!

   For a while we all had been hearing nibblets of wisdom associated with this woman (perhaps so have you) and I had mistakenly thought she was the author of A Course in Miracles. Not so, She studied Course in her youth and became quite an accomplished student of its philosophies and teachings. She started giving lectures, which turned into speaking events, which grew into her book and subsequent wild popularity. I urge you to join us in reading the book if you have a little time.

   Okay.

   Since I've only just begin to tread A Return to Love and certainly have not yet read the Course, tonight I only have a little nibble for you. But it's a doozie.

   You know how for months I have been prattling on and on about positive thinking? Perhaps you have heard mention of the Secret from time to time, or at least you tune into the notion that counting our blessings is the way to go? Right. Also, the Worry Door. Were you a regular guest of this digital Lazy W when I wrote about that?

   If you have a couple of minutes, I would love for you to read what happened almost a year ago: I had a bonafide vision that has since guided me away from a worried lifestyle. It has been revolutionary for me, and slowly I am seeing actual, tangible results in my life, in my relationships, in my earthly circumstances.

   You guys. The repeated wisdom here is too intense to brush off as coincidence.

   This Return to Love is echoing all the best things to my heart, in just the first few chapters.

   It is either going to be one of those books I read in a single day or one of those books that takes me a month because every page, no, every paragraph, warrants note taking and essay writing.

   I know you have many good things to do, but please let me share something small with you. These are Marianne Williamson's words:

"I realized, many years ago, that I must be very powerful if I could mess up everything I touched, everywhere I went, with such amazing consistency. I figured there must be a way to apply the same mental power, then embedded in neurosis, in a more positive way. A lot of today's most common psychological orientation is to analyze the darkness in order to reach the light, thinking that if we focus on our neuroses- their origins and dynamics- then we will move beyond them. Eastern religions tell us that is we go for God, all that is not authentically ourselves will drop. Go for the light and darkness will disappear. Focus on Christ means focus on the goodness and power that lie latent within us, in order to invoke them into realization and expression. We get in life that which we focus on. Continual focus on darkness leads us, as individuals and as a society, further into darkness. Focus on the light brings us into the light."

   What do you think? Yes, a sentence up there smacks of humanism, but I am not suggesting a debate. Just an effort to see how much we all have in common. It's really both refreshing and terrifying to see the pillars of Christian faith expressed in such light-filled, inclusive language.

   Have you read The Secret? Or the Bonhoeffer biography yet? Or C.S. Lewis' Abolition of Man? Speaking only for my own spiritual journey, I know these books have found their way to me for a reason, a complicated and wonderful weave of ideas and expressions. Now Return to Love. Wow.

   Positive thinking is powerful. Negative thinking is powerful. Our thoughts manifest. We all are members of the church, the body of Christ, regardless of man-made denomination. Love is the bottom line.

   I am listening, Universe.

"Worry is a Misuse of the Imagination."
~Dan Zadra
xoxoxoxo

Happy Easter Friends

Easter Sunday this year is falling at a time of so much change. So much new life.
The month is changing, the season is changing, and I am changing.

Are you?
Are you in any kind of metamorphosis right now, any kind of renewal?
More than ever I think, things are really truly changing.
I hope you are sensing it, and I hope it is all beautiful and exciting.

When I reflect on the Christian importance of this weekend, 

what my mind most often drifts to is redemption. 

We have been redeemed from our sins by our Savior. 

We have been traded. Purchased. Protected from darkness and storms

and even from ourselves for a while, 

our debts relieved and our futures bright and open with loving possibility.

 From a million years ago, one of our homemade Easter rituals, commemorating the Passover night.

This is so in step with how I have been trying to manage my own life lately, 

just the word redemption.

For what different things in this world am I redeeming my precious time and energy? 

Spiritually speaking, the question becomes even more challenging.

What trades am I making? What contracts are written with my free will,

after such a costly redemption?

It's plenty to think about, but it doesn't make me sad anymore.

Life is so throbbing with energy right now that I am only motivated, revived, 

and hopeful for the possibility of everything good and amazing!

Break your dormancy, friends.

Erupt through the soil, nourished by invisible things and sparked back to life,

filled with all the life force you need

to grow into your fullest, most beautiful, most useful potential.

Face the sun.

Accept every kind of weather.

Stretch your roots deeply and enjoy the company of bugs and worms.

It's going to be a season for the record books, and I wish you the best of it all. 

Happy Easter!

xoxoxoxo