5 favorites: surprise discoveries in 2014 + good words online this week

--1--

Paleo diet

Believe it or not, eating from a Paleo menu has been a game-changer for us.  My daughter Kendra led the way and, thanks to the beautiful inspiration from Rachel Brown, we've been discovering a way of eating that fits our need for health and simplicity.

I should add that we are quite gentle with ourselves in this pursuit.  I'm not interested in legalism when it comes to food, and thankfully, none of us have the sort of illness that requires strict food observance.  The truth is, though, that my body feels best when I limit grains, dairy, sugar and processed foods from my daily meals.

--2--

Emeals Paleo menu plan

I am not a confident cook.  Not only that, it's not really a priority for me to master cooking, baking or food preparation.  Still, I value healthy food and dinner together.  When we were exploring Paleo, I had one deal-breaker for our family.  I needed it to be OK for us to use emeals to plan our shopping and cooking.  I've loved emeals for a long time -- thanks to my sister, Kaley.  

Emeals benefits anyone who wants an organized, simple, cost-effective tool for planning meals, grocery shopping and cooking.  It's just an added bonus that one of their 14 meal plans is for Paleo families like ours.

Do me a favor?  If you decide to sign up for emeals use my sister's referral link?  It helps me show her how much I love her!

--3--

Lucy Wainwright Roche

We saw Lucy Wainwright Roche open for Over the Rhine a few years back in New York and loved her.  Then somehow, just forgot to follow her after that.  A fun surprise then to discover she was opening for Over the Rhine again as they visited Austin a few weeks back. 

Here's the thing:  you listen to her music and enjoy her voice and her sweet, intelligent lyrics a lot.  But if you can ever see her live, it's the way she tells stories and connects with the room that is downright charming.  Or should I say -- down-Wright-- charming.  (Also if the name Wainwright sounds familiar, you'd be correct.  She's related.)

Enjoy this cover of Robyn's hit "Call Your Girlfriend".  See what I mean about Lucy??

--4--

Chiropractic Massage

Someday I'm pretty sure I'll look back at this season of me trying to re-find my true physical self and I'll say it wasn't the exercise or the food I ate (or didn't eat) that made the difference.  It was the chiropractor and massage therapist that were the catalyst. 

I'm not intelligent enough -- nor do I have the time to tell you statistics or medical proofs.  I just know it's working for me.  And, if you live in Austin you couldn't find a friendlier place than the hospitality Dr. Michelle and her staff offer at Rosewood Chiropractic and Massage Therapy.  (p.s., if you visit them, tell 'em I sent you!)

--5--

Broadchurch 

Lately I can't get enough of British drama.  Also, this is David Tennant and Olivia Colman.  I watched this mini-series on Amazon Prime, but I'm guessing you can find it other places too, because the show just won a BAFTA.

Related link:  Murder, Secrets And Lies By The Seaside In 'Broadchurch'

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Other good words online this week

• The Definitive Manifesto for Handling Haters: Anne Lamott on Priorities and How We Keep Ourselves Small by People-Pleasing

  at Brain Pickings: “What if you wake up some day, and you’re 65… and you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big juicy creative life?”

• An Anglican Pastor's Grief by David Roseberry at  Anglican Pastor: "I need to find a time when I can stop speaking my words and instead, experience and pray at a personal level. I find that I need to wait for God to speak His healing Word to me. Enough of my words, Lord. Speak Your Word to me. Only say Your Word…and it is I who shall be healed…” as the Centurion might have asked."

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A good-find week for us all, dear ones.

For more Five Favorites, visit Moxie Wife!!

A Chronology of Paying Attention (18): winning the Brian Murphy lottery

In this chronological remembrance, we're in the newlywed years.  Lord, have mercy (and thankfully He did!)  Today I'm re-sharing a poem I wrote for my husband's 43rd birthday last year. ...............................

43 years

A poem* for my husband on his birthday

Ninety-two, ninety-three, I most remember   

As the winter a blizzard shut us in and we are   

Broke from a hard two years as newly wed  

Where the meager provision of being   

Student, employee, father for our first born

Son and now another one on the way, we've

Neither a degree nor cash. Dreams die in   

Fatigue and bank accounts give way as you and your    

Muscle and sweat and hope fall in to make   

A loss. We lived in two bedrooms down the   

Hallway from kind friends in their nice  

Neighborhood. Or that has all really   

Happened and we go to Johnson City where,   

Thanks to Rick Jindra and Steve Conroy,   

You get a job cleaning cars at Dependable   

Auto Sales. It’s all a backwards dream, a slog

To get a life and home before the next

Arrival of another son, your dogged days 

Of honor. A church acquaintance  

Has encouraged us that giving when we   

Don't think we have anything to give keeps the   

Scarcity of our mindset overwhelmed by

The bounty. I love the mentors, at least I   

Think I do, in their wisdom, their attempt   

To find ways for us to find a living from the WIC   

Office. Otherwise the early years seem   

Like a country music ballad. A stunned   

Twenty-something man runs from school to work   

And home up three floors of the apartment house on Frederick Street,

Chasing a toddler with the second-born in hot

Pursuit where otherwise you sat up late writing  

Required lines, planning for your next degree  

And child, a daughter. We were waiting to get our   

First salary and listening to the Yankees win the pennant

On the radio. You worked, you dreamed, you wrote the   

Fifty-two pages of your thesis, the new baby  

Arriving near the end. I slept on the couch and  

healed and nursed and cried while you stayed up

Thirty-six hours straight, determined. Then that   

Summer there is the day of the great Teaching Job   

Offer, we move to Conklin -- Richard T. Stank

Middle School, beloved George Schuster  

Down the hall. You read “Goodnight   

Moon” to your children and Teddy Roosevelt

To your students, and Rick Patino for the team.   

Then it’s winter again. My water breaks   

And we head back to Lourde's Hospital   

And we welcome another daughter, and   

Sometime just about then you must have almost   

Seen yourself as others see or saw you,   

people like Dr. Jagger and Scott Gravelding, but could not quite   

Accept either their affirmation

Or their equally anointed naming. Uncertain,   

Afraid, you kept at it. A few years later
Crisis and pain and forgiveness fall in to make   
A calling. You lived into yourself, a man named.   

You are still the father, student, teacher, much the same,
but now also mentor, pastor, friend.
Now you are happier, I think, and older.
Those of us lucky enough to know you say
That we have won the Brian Murphy lottery.

*ADAPTED FROM "YESTERDAYS", 

A POEM BY ROBERT CREELEY

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In this season that I do not have time to write, this is the idea God gave me:  For me to ponder and notice again the words I've already written once, to keep praying the beads of memory to discover this sacramental life.

Won't you join me?  

I'd welcome your company along the way.

5 favorites: surprise discoveries in May

--1--

stitch fix

When my Mom visited in April she mentioned I might like this personal shopping service.  I signed up then and there, have already received my first shipment and can hardly wait for the second.  I did not take the time to take pretty pictures of the shipment or the pretty clothes inside.  For other bloggers' great photos click here, here or here.

I told my kind-but-quizzical husband "It's like Netflix for clothes!"  Well, it is.  Sort of.  

And while I'm a bargain basement shopper (read: "Good Will") for most of my clothes I like the idea of supplementing my wardrobe a piece or two at a time with quality, curated items.  

[While I don't receive any compensation for this blog review the post does include a referral link that gives me credit if you sign up and schedule your own style fix!]

--2--

body pump

Add this to the long list of things about my life that surprise me.  I'm not only taking a group exercise class (yay for the YMCA!) but it involves lifting stuff, a lot of times in a row.  

And I love it.  I'm trying to go twice a week on my lunch break from work.  It's a long lunch break and I hope my employers will continue to be gracious.

Read what my friend (and inspiration) Katie had to say about her own surprise relationship with Body Pump.

--3--

yoga

I'm participating in group exercise.

With the word "holy" in the title of the class.

On a yoga mat.  

In Austin, Texas.

Wonders never cease.

And I'm so grateful for the generous hospitality our instructor Sara provides.  I am a total beginner and haven't stretched this much since high school cheerleading days.  I never realized how good it would feel to incorporate breathing and balance with strength.  My body is soaking it up after too many years of neglect.  

I also underestimated the power of physical movement to provide physical rest and quiet.  The final moments of each class are reserved for us to do nothing but lay still, breathe, pray, rest.  Healthy for mind, body and soul.

--4--

Groovebook

A couple of months ago I joined 21st century and purchased an iPhone.  Around the same time I stumbled on this photo app and wish I'd had a smart phone and GrooveBook app for the 22 1/2 years I've been a parent.  

In short:  you can download the app for free and then get your phone photos made into a photo album each month for $2.99. (That includes shipping!) Really, it's that easy.  

If you're interested in trying it out, feel free to use my coupon code to get your first GrooveBook free: MURPHY1287

The photos are not the best quality I've ever printed (the photo paper is a bit thin) but what with the price, the simplicity of uploading from my phone it's a worthy trade off for me. Did I mention the photos are perforated so you can take it out of the booklet and use however you'd like?  Also, you can choose to have the book sent to someone else or order more copies (at the same price) for friends and family.

Really, it's a no brainer.

--5--
West Austin Studio Tour

I've never been able to attend one of the annual East Austin Studio Tours and barely noticed that the part of Austin west of I-35 had their own event (this is the 3rd year) UNTIL, well it's a kind of long story. But it involves a power outage in my neighborhood last Friday night in which everyone stood around in the street outside my neighbor's house, sharing beers and gossip.  And that's where I met Scotty Stevenson whose backyard meets our backyard at a chain link fence.  And that's when I found out Scotty is an artist and that he was #39 on the West Austin Studio tour.  When I walked over Sunday afternoon I found 2 other locations in the tour on my very same street:  Chris Chappell and Yost Custom Wood.

Y'all.  This is one talented city block.  

You live in Austin?  There's still time to check out what artists in your neighborhood are hosting open houses during the West Austin Studio Tour.

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A good find week for us all, dear ones.

For more Five Favorites, visit Moxie Wife!!

A Chronology of Paying Attention (17): the time we got mac & cheese for a wedding gift

Apparently I've not written much about my high school years in this blog. I seem to be skipping from middle school era to marriage and motherhood.  Let's be honest -- that era was pretty short.  Today I'm re-sharing a post I wrote as a follow up to to the short essay I wrote for Think Christian in response to Chipotle's viral ad.

................

source

Twenty-two years ago -- and only a few months after our wedding day -- my husband and I knocked on the door of a church acquaintance’s apartment.  She’d invited us to join her and her three sons for dinner.  It was her wedding gift to us.  We were touched.  

We’d never been to her home before but we knew a good bit of her story.  Her on-again, off-again husband lived in prison.  Each time he got out he promised to sober up, quit the drugs and be her man.  Each time he left her jobless, pregnant and broke.  

Since her quiet invitation following service one Sunday I’d tried to imagine what dinner in her home would look, feel and taste like.  She weighed probably less than 100 pounds herself and I wondered what sort of food she had to offer.

We arrived to her hot kitchen, children and their toys cluttered bare floors.  She stood over a pot on the stove, stirring bubbling water.  On the counter a blue and gold box, cardboard lid ripped open, stood our entree:  Kraft Macaroni and Cheese.  

Frankly, I was relieved.  We knew this food.  It gave us something in common. Turned out the entree was the entire meal, we sat where we could find a seat, television blaring and enjoyed creamy noodles and awkward conversation.

It's one of the best gifts I've ever received.

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In this season that I do not have time to write, this is the idea God gave me:  For me to ponder and notice again the words I've already written once, to keep praying the beads of memory to discover this sacramental life.

Won't you join me?  

I'd welcome your company along the way.

5 favorites: good finds online + Natalie's handsome nurse

Before sharing the list, a favorite image from the week:

My daughter was hit by a car one week ago today.  We are grateful beyond words that her injuries (a severe knee sprain) are not worse -- even though we don't yet know their full extent.  One of the many silver linings in the aftermath was the -- umm -- very attractive nurse who took care of her in the ER.  Hopefully this photo gives you enough of an idea while still protecting his identity.  Also, he may or may not have actually wiped tears from Natalie's face at one point.  This part of the story has allowed us to give Natalie quite a bit of teasing.

Five Favorites: good finds online 

-- 1 --

Phaedra's New Liturgical Art Commission at Diary of an Arts Pastor: "In a sense, I have begun to think of our whole lives as a kind of long Lent before a new and brilliant Easter, that day when Jesus returns as King. In this time in-between, you and I are invited to see our lives as perhaps brightly sad, rather than endlessly happy. Here in the regular course of our often not-exciting lives, we hold our hearts out to the Spirit, who knows all things, including the depths of our hearts, and we take halting steps towards the day when Jesus shall make all things new, despite our unclear paths and hearts that frequently grow faint."

-- 2 --

On Craftsmanship: The Only Surviving Recording of Virginia Woolf's Voice, 1937 at Brainpickings: "They hang together, in sentences, in paragraphs, sometimes for whole pages at a time. They hate being useful; they hate making money; they hate being lectured about in public. In short, they hate anything that stamps them with one meaning or confines them to one attitude, for it is their nature to change."

-- 3 -- 

The Official Ranking of Prince George's Best Facial Expressions at BuzzFeed:  So this little guy's been around for a while and I've been missing out on all sorts of adorable!  May God bless his little exposed life.

-- 4 -- 

More than half the world's population lives inside this circle at We Come From the Future:  "What's truly noteworthy about this visualization is how clearly and effectively it conveys an astonishing truth about the world." And that most of the land inside the focal point is actually not land, but water.

-- 5 --

Grass, Water, Cows from The Perennial Plate on Vimeo: "In Argentina, beef is a way of life. But over the last few decades, the traditional methods of raising cows on grass has faded away, only to be replaced by the feedlot model. At Las dos Hermanas Ranch, they maintain the old ways of managing the grass, the water and the cows. "

The Perennial Plate

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A good find week for us all, dear ones.

For more Five Favorites, visit Moxie Wife!

A Chronology of Paying Attention (16): my family line of honeymoon babies

Apparently I've not written much about my high school years in this blog. I seem to be skipping from middle school era to marriage and motherhood.  Let's be honest -- that era was pretty short.  Today I've excerpted a post I originally titled Flying a Kite in a Hurricane and posted in August 2008 and again at Micha Boyett's One Good Phrase series:  One Good Quip (You Trust God to Keep You Safe at Night, but You Still Lock the Doors).

three generations of wedlock -- all 3 of us brides giving birth to our first baby about 9 months following the moment this photos were taken

My parents' parents didn't talk about sex. My parents began the conversation, but either they weren't speaking above a whisper or I wasn't listening. I managed to have my first son three days shy of nine months from the first time I ever had sex. When he was born I still wasn't sure I'd ever had it. I didn't care. I flew the kite of that beautiful baby boy for all the world to see.

We have a history of honeymoon babies in this family. It's pretty much legendary now. Possibly all this hushing up about sex has something to do with it. So I called my mother-in-law, the medical professional, from my honeymoon hotel room. Possibly we should know something about birth control, we thought. Of course, it was most likely too late by this point. Brian and I had spent about a half hour discussing it once during our engagement. He'd heard somewhere that the Pill could be dangerous so I blundered my way through my first ob/gyn visit and left holding some oddly-shaped doo dad that I was too embarrassed to let the family doctor know I hadn't understood the first thing about. (that thing is supposed to go where?)

During my growing-up years, the oldest child of six, my parents continued silently in their quest to limit the number of mouths they brought into existence. My dad's pastor/pauper paycheck and my mother's exhausted bouts with clinical depression probably had something to do with this. As far as I know now the only people offering advice were radical feminists and post-war baby boomer pious surbabanites. Not a lot of help. God kept sending them new kites of their own to fly. 

There comes a point when kite flying in stormy weather scares the hell out of you, but sometimes you know you're not the one controlling the string.

On the verge of being a mother myself, I had my first experience with mixing theology and sexuality. Experience is probably a gentle word. More like got bashed over the head by it. It was the era of the Pro-Life Political Movement and the Homeschooling Revolution and Operation Rescue and all that. 

The rhetoric blustering around me was heavy on the ideology, light on the theology. In this fear-filled cocoon, the Church had taught me that sex could be shameful.  Not only was losing one's virginity the unpardonable sin, paradoxically so was limiting the number of one's offspring. 

Soon enough we'd figured out how to "plan" baby number two, all without the aid of chemicals (or weird-looking doo dads), thank you very much.

Now I had self-righteous rhetoric on my side and I felt like I'd stumbled into the right "camp". Sometimes, you just get lucky and the storm's blowing the other way, you know? 

But idealism about family planning doesn't mean a speck when you've spent the day laying aside your every need as a human being to meet the needs of the arrows in your quiver and the nights sleep-walking from marriage bed to crib to toddler bed, only to end up slumped over a nursing infant and waking up thankful you didn't smother it to death. 

Idealism did not last through the storms of reality for me. And then I had baby number four. I'd been married six years. I was 26 years old. We'd been making a real salary for less than a year. I was tired.

So we, Brian and me, got interested in science real quick-like. The information was easy to come by, even before Google. Of course, we covered Theology, too. It consisted of getting sage advice wrapped in euphemisms from my grandmother and mother. The same women who didn't talk about sex were full of wisdom when they saw me teetering on the edge of the looney-bin. I am grateful to them to this day. 

You trust God to keep you safe at night, but you still lock the doors. 

I was more than relieved to agree that this must be true, even if it wasn't terribly deep. When you're teetering on the edge, sometimes a quip will do.

So we blundered and bumbled and stumbled our way through these ideas and truths about what it means to enjoy sex and to create children and to avoid creating new children and in the middle of all that uncertainty and shame and hushed and unspoken questions, I was schooled in the deepest theology of all:  that God is sovereign and full of grace and forgiveness. That it is not my wisdom or understanding that brings out the best in God. His expectations for me are surpassed by his delights. 

I do not deserve these four divinely created images of the one true God -- Andrew, Alexander, Kendra and Natalie. I do not deserve to be living in joy and harmony with my amazing, unplanned siblings and their own burgeoning families.

I will hold the end of the string - flying the beauty and hilarity of this gift of family that came down as lights from Heaven.  I'm hopeful for my own kids to know better than Brian and me the Church's better nature, the language of welcoming life founded in the nature of the Giver of life.  All of this while retaining a child-like trust that refuses to take our ideals too seriously.

And, in the middle of the blustering hurricanes, I will laugh as Abraham and Sarah at the holy absurdity of it all.

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In this season that I do not have time to write, this is the idea God gave me:  For me to ponder and notice again the words I've already written once, to keep praying the beads of memory to discover this sacramental life.

Won't you join me?  

I'd welcome your company along the way.