A few years ago I realized that it was time to make a few changes.  I had spent the majority of my life seeking to please others, hungry for their acceptance, their approval, but most of all hungry for their love.  I realized that somewhere along the line I had become the preverbial “people pleaser”, willing to forego even the basest forms of respect in order to keep people in my life.  I believed that if I just worked harder, did more, allowed more, that eventually things would change.  I firmly believed that it was indeed all my fault when things did not go well and I was treated poorly or hurt.  Somewhere along the line I accepted the lie that I simply was not worthy of being treated well, let alone to be loved well.

Eventually, I just broke.

I knew I wanted things to change, so I got some help.  I started to see a therapist, and I started the hard business of really learning about myself and what desperately needed to change.  It turns out there is a whole other world out there.  A world where people have boundaries.  A world where people say no, expect respect and walk away from those who emotionally use and abuse them.  There is a world where family doesn’t treat you like junk, and children honor their parents.  A world where people believe they are worthy of love.  I use to think that loving well meant that you just endured all things.  Now I realize true love means sometimes having to say, “I love you too much to let you treat me this way.”

I have been learning who I really want to be.  What sort of daughter, wife, mother and friend do I desire to be?

Simple.  I want to love, really love– wisely, passionately, deeply.  Thankfully, God is patiently teaching me what love really looks like.  My education began with understanding who I no longer desire to be–the victim.  I have been digging in deep, combing through the words from the author of love. One story has been on my mind for weeks now, it has challenged and broken me in the best possible ways.  It is found in Luke, it is the story of Jesus healing the paralyzed man:

“Some men came carrying a paralytic on a mat and tried to take him into the house to lay him before Jesus.  When they could not find a way to do this because of the crowd, they went up on the roof and lowered him on his mat through the tiles into the middle of the crowd, right in front of Jesus.” Luke 5:18-19

The fact that Jesus ended up healing the man was not what struck me.  I found myself thinking about the men who carried the paralytic.  I tried to put myself there, watching this unfold.  Here is this man, body broken, laying on a mat.  Did he want to get well?  Let’s just assume the paralytic actually wanted a working body, if given the chance.  Why did the men decided to carry him?  I am sure they had busy lives, and there were many other things they could have done with their time.  Let’s not miss the fact that they actually carried him.  Have you ever carried another adult before?  I am just going to go with saying, in the least, they were committed, caring and strong. They cared enough for this man to literally carry him to Jesus so that he could receive healing.


In my world, that is pretty impressive if we just stop the story there.  How many would go to such great lengths to help another?  However, when they arrived at the house where Jesus was they realized that they could not actually get to him because of the great crowd.  What do these guys do?  Do they give up and say, well, we tried? No!  They refuse to stop, they battle forward, determined to press on to the goal–Jesus.  They decide to carry him up the stairs to the roof.  They carried him up stairs! Carrying him at all would have been a workout, but to carry him up stairs is an even deeper commitment.  Then, they actually break through the roof of the house and lower him down to Jesus.  Can you just picture that scene?  Can you imagine how humbling and amazing it was to be the paralytic?  I am floored.

What a beautiful picture of love.  Who was blessed more that day, the paralytic or the friends who carried him to Jesus?

I am challenged.  I want to be that sort of friend.  I want to carry those who want to get well to Jesus.  I want to fight for them, press in with them until they get the victory that God desperately wants them to have.  I want to weep when they weep and rejoice when they rejoice.  I want them to know that they are important enough to fight for.  I am learning that I want to walk in that level of love.

No matter what I choose there is no escaping the hard that is present in relationships. So, instead of attempting to hide from the hard, I would rather pick the hard that leads to the fruit of abundant life.  For there is one thing I may have finally learned; true love leads to freedom, healing and beautiful growth–not bondage, brokenness and despair.

Far Past the Shoreline


“Disturb us Lord when we are too well pleased with ourselves.  When our dreams have come true because we’ve dreamed too little.  When we arrive safely because we’ve sailed too close to the shore.  Disturb us Lord when, in the abundance of the things we possess, we have lost our thirst for the waters of life.  Having fallen in love with life, we have ceased to dream of eternity.  And in our efforts to build a new earth, we have allowed our vision of the new heaven to dim.  Disturb us Lord to dare more boldly to venture on wider seas where storms will show your mastery, where losing sight of land we shall find the stars.  Lord, we ask you to push back the horizons of our hopes and to push us into the future in your strength, courage, hope, and love.  Disturb us, oh Lord.”

~ Sir Francis Drake

I just want to know I am right, and that I am not careening down a dead-end road that ends in a rather steep cliff.  I want the handwriting-on-the-walls-audible-voice-of-God-burning-bush-experience, complete with a carbon copy of all instructions via email for good measure.  I want certainty.  I want control.  I want to know exactly what I am getting into so that I can clearly and strategically decipher whether I have the ability to endure it.

I am lying to myself.  What I really want is to control the outcome, to avoid more pain and, therefore, opt out of any need to actually trust God.

Be still.  Trust.  Surrender.  Let go.

Yeah…those words feel like abrasive Brillo pads on my sensitive flesh.  And yet, if I will be still long enough, I can remember the numerous times of God’s faithfulness in my life–the mighty storms that revealed his greatness.  I can clearly see he is indeed trustworthy.  I understand that he alone will give me the strength to walk whatever lies before me.  It isn’t up to me, it isn’t about me, it has always been about him…and the story he is writing.

I can choose to trust him.  I can hold on to him desperately, moment by moment.  With my eyes clearly fixed on who he is, I am free to realize I have absolutely nothing to fear.  And so I climb into my rickety boat and venture out into wider seas, far past the illusion of comfort provided by the shoreline, and I wait.  I wait to see the stars.

Homeless in San Francisco

Homeless Woman

San Francisco.  Home of amazing sour dough bread, trolley cars, fresh seafood and one of the most diverse populations ever held in one city.  As I write this I am sitting in the fancy lobby of the Hilton in Union Square, where we have been staying for the last few days while my husband attends what I like to refer to as a “nerd conference,” featuring some of the latest and greatest in the computer programming world.  As you can imagine, my head began to ache just walking amongst the throng of this populace.  I came to relax, to turn my brain off for a bit, and to just enjoy being alone.  So, I ventured out into the big city of San Francisco all by myself.

I walked. I watched.  I even stepped out of my comfort zone and started conversations with others.  And I prayed.

And then I saw, really saw, possibly for the first time….the homeless.

I was undone.

How many times have I ignored the fact that they exist? Or judged them?  Or reminded myself it was just not my problem, what could I possibly do?

But as I walked the streets I was filled with so many thoughts I had never had before and it hit me:  these are our modern day lepers.  These are those who society has outcast, they are the forgotten, the unclean, the untouchable.

Yet, these are the very ones that Jesus would have hung out with, and even more shocking…he would have touched them!  And I am profoundly humbled to say that for the very first time I was struck by the fact that God profoundly loves them.  Deeply, passionately and completely loves them…just as much as he loves me.

They are someone’s daughter, son, father, mother, aunt, uncle or cousin.  They each have a story.  How did they get here? What happened in their story that landed them here, on the streets of San Francisco?  What mother or father looked at them as babies and thought, “One day, dear one, you are destined to be a homeless beggar.”  None.  And yet…there they are, in a situation they probably never saw coming.

And so I sit here and wonder.  I wonder if maybe Jesus had it right.  He made it simple: love.  Love!  A command, a verb, not a warm fuzzy feeling.  I do not know exactly what that love looks like in every situation.  However, I am wondering if our eyes are fixed on Jesus, and our focus is his love, then maybe it will change our actions…and maybe, just maybe, God will use it to change the lives of those whose paths we cross.

One thing I am certain of, even as I fall guilty of it, is that my judgement accomplishes nothing.  But God’s perfect love can change anything; and for some reason which I truly do not understand, he wants to use us.  He wants to demonstrate his love and power through us.  So, the question then becomes this: are we willing?




Hitting Walls, Quitting Weight Loss, and Detoxing

Protein shakes, counting calories, pushing myself at every corner to achieve a new physical milestone and then hitting a wall so fast, and so hard it sent me reeling.  It only took about 6 months to loose 96.2 lbs, thanks to having a sleeve gastrectomy, eating strictly  and exercising like a mad woman.  And then I hit a wall where nothing seemed to work to push even one more pound off, alueding not only the 100 lb mark, but totally missing the other 60 pounds I have left to shed.  It is about exercise and eating less calories, right?  Bull; it is just not that simple for everyone.  And the old Crystal, the fat i-d0-not-care-just-give-up Crystal gave me a smack down.

So, after an 8 month weight loss stall, I quit.  I started to become afraid of every angle of the eating/exercise continuum.  Nothing was going as planned…I could feel defeat rear it’s ugly head.  I was sick of it all!  I was by no means bingeing any more, but I also stopped paying much attention to calories/protein or exercise.  I just simply told myself, “I am just taking a break from it all.”  Yeah…

First, I gained back about 8 pounds.  No shock, but just added to the pain.  What was the point if all my effort seemed in vain anyway?  Next, the energy wained, and I was already battling having far too little.  Then the sleeplessness, anxiety, and sadness dug in.  Lastly, the headaches returned and the tummy problems returned fiercer then ever.  I had a headache every single day for a week and a half.

Then I remembered…

this was life in the pit.  This was the foretaste of what believing the lies led to: a prison.  I promised I would never go back to that and there I was like a pig sitting in their slop, wallowing in self-pity.  We choose our hard, and I was once again choosing the hard of life in the pit.  It had not changed, it was nauseatingly familiar….and so was the pain.

Oh, how glad I am to know that I serve a God who loves me so dearly and is so abounding with grace that he will never be ok with me choosing life in the pit.

In a time of quiet before God, I heard the question once again that God seared onto my heart months ago.  Do you want to get well?  

Honestly, I just wanted my own way at that point.  I wanted to see results.  I wanted to know that once again I was in control. I wanted to not be afraid of what it meant to loose even more weight.  I wanted it to no longer be hard or feel impossible.

And then it hit me.  Did I really just find another idol?  Nope God, move on over, you are not going to be on that throne…I am.  I want it my way, in my time, and I know what is best.  But I CAN NOT EVEN FIX THIS!  So, clearly, under the light of truth and all things good, I make a horrible god.  Oh, how easily I can loose sight of what is true.

The truth is that I am in the best shape of my life.  The truth is that I have come a very long way on this journey.  The truth is that there is NO way in HADES that I am staying in that stupid pit.  And the truth is, I was going to give it all back to God.  I was made for freedom!

Two days later, my husband said he wanted to do this crazy detox program called Whole 30.  I thought, clearly, I could use a detox in every sense of the word, so why don’t I join him?  That was 7 days ago for me.  No protein drinks, no counting calories, no more giving up.  My only “cheat” has been a bit of honey.  It has truly been incredible.  Because it turns out that the one autoimmune disorder I still have to deal with, PCOS, has caused about 80% of my “wall.”

It took just 24 hrs for the headaches to go away.  In about 36 hours my intestines were happier then they have ever been in my adult life. Not to mention I am having some of the best sleep I have experienced apart from anesthesia.  Oh, and the energy, the energy has been wonderful.  And the added side note?  I broke the “do not weigh yourself rule” out of morbid curiosity, and I have been shocked to find that I have lost almost 8 pounds in the last seven days.

I will admit that the first couple days the withdrawals were pretty crazy, and well, my mood may have been less then sweet.  But man has it been worth it.  With 23 official days left of my “detox”, I have already learned that there are simply some foods that freak my body out and make it sick.  I will have to grieve the loss of how life was, and move on.  I have also learned anew just how much junk is in the foods we consume on a regular basis, and so much of our diet is permanently changing.  The plus side?  The food is incredible!  Just look at this dessert I made tonight:

Paleo Strawberry Dessert

So, if you find yourself ready to quit, or maybe you have already quit and you need to hear it again:  Do not be defeated.  It is not too late.  Press on toward the beautiful, marvelous, precious gift of freedom….no matter what your mountain is.

Love and grace!

Time, Tears, and Trust


Before this last year, the concept of doing things to “take care of myself” was totally foreign.  Honestly, it felt like if I did do things that I felt I needed, I was being selfish, especially when I became a mom.  But then I hit a hard rock bottom, and I was forced to listen—really listen—to reason on this issue.  I was not made to walk this journey on my own strength, and learning to care for my needs has equipped me to better serve others…especially my own family.

However, I am still a work in progress, and I can still be stubbornly resistent to taking what I have come to refer to as “me time”.  I struggle even more when my littles look at me with big eyes and plead to spend that time with them instead…usually as I am trying to walk out the door.  And when they bat their beautiful pearly eyes at me, I now kneel down at their level and tenderly whisper the following:

“Mommy needs to go have some time alone with Jesus.  If you do not allow me that time, then big, mean, scary mommy might emerge…the mommy that raises her voice and has visions of duct taping you to the wall while she locks herself in the bathroom for just one moment of quiet.  You see, it is only time with Jesus—and possibly a cup of tea—that helps me to be a sweet, loving and patient mommy.  Ok?”

(Disclaimer: never have I, nor would I, duct tape my children in any way…though they think it sounds like great fun.)

Maybe it is the desperation in my voice, the wild look in my eyes, or the realization that they don’t want a mean, scary mommy…but they usually nod and stomp away pouting their serious pout.  And that is when I leave, ushered out with pleas from my dear husband to indeed take all the time I need, who clearly learned that “me time” does indeed benefit us all.

And so, yesterday; tired, hair pulled into a messy pony tail, and with not one hint of make-up; I ventured out to one of my favorite local spots: upper Bidwell Park.  Jesus allows me to come to him just as I am…and that can be a dirty, messy, crazy sort of business.

I don’t know what it is about Bidwell Park that stirs me to silence, though I am leaning toward the idea that it offers me the illusion that I have indeed left suburbia and I am alone (at least partially) with my maker.  There are many things I have learned can bring me refreshment and renewal, but nothing—and I mean nothing —compares to my time alone with God.  Nothing.

And so I sat and poured out my every concern and heartache to the one who longs to carry it for me.  And I asked, as I often do, for him to speak, to give me something, anything. I want to hear his voice, the whispers of the holy spirit, clearly and distinctly.  And then I was still.  Totally still.  A concept that I used to be unable to bear, to be quiet, still and vulnerable before my Lord.


Then the clouds broke and a bright beam of light fell down directly on me, warming me, and drawing tears to my eyes as the peace flowed in.  The sunbeam lasted less then a minute, but that peace, oh that dear sweet peace…it lingers on.  Truly, he does not give as this world gives.  His comfort so often comes through the gift of his peace.  His love manifests as he wraps me in the cloak of his peace, his presence and his love.

To be still, to receive his peace…it may be the greatest gift he gives second only to salvation.  And then I realized something I never have before…  Maybe no words are necessary, not when you are enveloped in his peace.

“My peace I leave with you…”

What an amazing gift.  The promise was not a life free of storms…but of a life where he provides the raft, one that he can keep in perfect peace in the midst of the storms. That is truly ”…not as the world gives.”

And, as I sat watching the sun set, the light dancing across the blades of grass and weeds, I was reminded of a beautiful old hymn:

‘Tis so sweet to trust in Jesus,
And to take Him at his word;
Just to rest upon His promise,
And to know, “Thus saith the Lord.”

Jesus, Jesus, how I trust Him!
How I’ve proved Him o’er and o’er!
Jesus, Jesus, precious Jesus!
O for grace to trust Him more!”

And then, because I just had to know the rest of the words and could not remember them to safe my life, I did the super spiritual act of “googling” them. And I am not too proud to admit that as the tears warmed my chilled face I was deeply moved by the words of this stanza:

Yes, ’tis sweet to trust in Jesus,
Just from sin and self to cease;
Just from Jesus simply taking
Life and rest, and joy and peace.

Oh, dear me. Yes, just from sin and self to cease… To rest. To be still. To be swallowed up in the rest, joy and peace that only God can give. And my I further echo the words of this writer, nay my prayer: O for grace to trust him more!

Are you taking time for yourself? What are your favorite things to do that bring you refreshment and renewal?

The Job of Jesus has Been Filled…

The Job of Jesus has Been Filled

There was a time when, though I never thought “I knew it all”, I thought I did have a fairly clean grasp on what it meant to be a stellar parent…that was until I became one.  I remember being so righteously indignant over parents who dared to gripe about the hardships in parenting as we journeyed through infertility. After all, did they not realize what an amazing gift they had been given?  I remember promises I uttered to God, things like, “I will never take one poopy, sleep deprived, rebellious moment for granted if I become a mom…”  I just have to sit back now and wonder, was God smiling at my words or having a full on belly laugh?  Now, almost 8 years after God granted me mother status I can honestly say, while completely well intentioned, I had no idea just how hard parenting could really be.

I remember setting eyes on each of our girls for the very first time.  I was in love.  Head over heels, lay my life down, let me hold them and kiss them until the end of time, in love.  It did not matter a smidgen that 4 of our 6 girls did not come from my womb.  The love was an instantaneous, God breathed sort of moment…at least on our (the parents) end.  And so, one October day God gave us a beautiful, tiny baby girl that we later named Emily who was just 10.5 months old and weighed in at just l6 pounds.  Exactly one week later, we brought home two lovely, funny, and very resilient young ladies who would later be named Rachelle and Ariana, ages 13 and 14.  I was 25.  Just a couple months later, on our last try of infertility treatments, we found out we were pregnant with twins.  And several years later, I would have the honor of watching our youngest, Annastacia, come into this world and take her very first breath.  We were beyond excited about every single one of our kids.  Did we know it was going to be hard? Sure.  Did we have any true clue on just how difficult the journey would be?  No fricken idea!

We faced so much at that season of our lives, battles at every side.  A question kept pulsing in my mind, “Do I trust God?”  And then a nagging, gentle whisper, “will you let them go?”  In that year, we began to learn that we were not in control of this story.  In fact, we could control precious little.  And to be totally honest, I was scared.  I loved them all so deeply, I didn’t want to let go of even one, not even for a moment.

And that whisper again, “Will I trust God?”

At 17 weeks pregnant, my water broke.  My world started to spin.  I waited at the hospital for my labor to begin.  At just 17 weeks they were too little to survive.

The whisper, “Do you trust me?”

Every single cell in my body screamed out to God.  “NO!”  Through uncontrollable sobs, I whispered that I did NOT trust Him.  He could not allow this to happen.  This crazy, messy story was not MY plan.  It was not what I wanted.

I stayed pregnant until I was 21 weeks, and then I gave birth to a tiny baby girl we named Ashley Faith.  She lived for 15 minutes and died quietly in my arms.  My labor stopped and at 24 weeks I gave birth to another tiny baby girl we named Bethany Grace who also lived for 15 minutes.  I was crushed.

At their funeral I remember sitting, staring at the tiniest pink casket with wonder.  The horror and shock had subsided a bit and I was full of sorrow.  I had done all that I could do, but I could not save them.  I had to let them go.  And so, through tears I prayed, “God, I do not know how to trust you.  I don’t know how to do this hard.  Please help me to trust you.”  And then something powerful and amazing happened.  A song of praise filled my heart, the words and melody beating loudly through my chest and a peace that truly surpasses understanding filled me.

I had wanted so much to be able to save them, to protect them.  Instead, when I had done all that I could do, I had to let them go, and I chose to trust God to care for them.

I was beginning to learn what it would mean to truly trust God, not just give it lip service.

And then, I would fight God all over again when the next battle came.  Life went on, and at the time we had three other daughters to care for and walk with, now there are 4.  There were problems, there are problems.  Issues would be faced, and I would want to swoop in and save the day…until the day came that I realized I couldn’t.

And then, the painful, albeit freeing reality set in:  The job of Jesus has been filled, and I am not him.  I cannot save my children, in fact, that is not even my job.  My job is to love them well, teach them the truth, and then let them go.  I do not think there is anything harder then letting a child go.  Over and over again, in big and small ways, we face this issue as parents.  From letting go of the toddler as they take their first steps, to letting go of the teenager as they strike out on their own.  It is tough, at least it has been for me.  Many times I have found myself crying out the same plea, “He could not allow this to happen. This crazy, messy story was not MY plan.  It was not what I wanted.  I want to save them!”

And patiently, lovingly, God reminds me, (sometimes a few dozen times a day) that the job of Jesus has been filled.  I can rest in his grace.  I can let them all go…every single precious, beautiful, amazing child he has given me.  And when I think I can not endure another moment, I cannot bear up under one more trial… I run to the one who sustains me and I choose to trust Him.  There is freedom in letting go, and where there is freedom there is profound beauty.  

I have learned again and again….God’s grace is truly sufficient, and he is worthy of all my trust, especially in the hard.  I do not need to be in control because He is and He is able to carry me through every bit of hard I will ever face.

Paleo “Almond Joy” Pie

Almond Joy Pie Slice

I like sweet treats, and I cannot lie.  I have never been a hard candy or ice cream sort of girl, but I have always been one to enjoy a well crafted pie, or dark chocolate, or pretty much any baked goods.  And that used to be a symptom of my big problem–but that is for another post.  Suffice it to say that I used to let stuff like that be my “god”, my source of all comfort, the way I checked out.  No longer.  Lately, I have been working on learning how to enjoy the occasional treat…while allowing them their proper place.  Now if I am going to eat a treat I want it to be as awesome as possible and made with the best ingredients available…and, of course, have just a little. (Which translates into me baking and giving away most of it– which is an added benefit of this lifestyle change I am going through.)

So, if you like dark chocolate or almond joys then you will really enjoy this super rich pie.  I got the original inspiration from this awesome recipe.  I made a few changes, working to eliminate unnecessary sugar (i.e. in the crust) and add in some almonds that I thought sublime.  And then my husband says I took it too far, but I just could not help it…I added a few strawberries to one of the pies…and a small slice was simply wondrous.  Does anyone else find it totally ironic that a formerly morbidly obese lady is posting about dessert?  Yeah, me neither. ;)

Oh, and the best part?  All the ingredients are totally paleo friendly…so eating some dessert is healthier then ever!

First the coconut crust:

Coconut Crust

Coconut Crust:

3 c. unsweetened coconut flakes (I found this in bulk at a local grocery store)

1 tbsp. coconut sugar

1/2 tsp. cinnamon

1/2 c. butter (melted)

Mix all ingredients together, dry ingredients first and then the butter last.  Then press firmly into your favorite pie plate/tin.  Bake at 350 for 10 minutes covered with aluminum foil. Remove foil and cook for another 8 minutes.

Then the super yummy dark chocolate filling:

Almond Joy Pie

Almond Dark Chocolate Filling:

1/2 – 3/4 c. almonds coarsely chopped

1 1/4 c. cocoa powder

1/2 can of coconut cream (I purchased mine at Trader Joes)

1/2 c. coconut oil

1/2 c. honey

3/4 tsp. cinnamin

Heat in a double broiler (or use two pans with water between them being careful to not allow any water to spill in) until totally melted together and creamy.  It will appear oily at first but it will blend nicely when totally melted.  When all warm and melty and looking delicious it is time for it to join its coconut and almond friends.  Pour into pie crust, then add chopped almonds to top of pie and quickly press in.  You can also place the almonds on the bottom of the pie crust and then pour the filling directly on top of them.  Then place in frig and allow to cool and harden.

Then if you dare, you can add some strawberries too:

Strawberrie Almond Joy Pie

Strawberry Topping:

1 lb fresh or frozen strawberries

2 tbsp. coconut sugar or 1 tbsp honey

Heat and mush up the strawberries and sugar (I used a potato smasher because I am clearly a culinary wiz).  Heat until slightly bubbly and then pour on top of the chocolate.  Then let it chill until firm.   And really, who doesn’t like dark chocolate and strawberries??  Just look at this slice!

Slice of strawberry almond joy pie

A Naked Turkey and a Challenge

A wee bit less than 3 years ago we felt led to make the first of what would become a series of increasingly challenging steps…the first of which was a major downsize, but that is for a different post.


I used to think that there were certain things I could never tackle, handle or live through.  I used to live in a bubble of fear, motivated by convenience  and smothered by insecurity.  And while I sometimes teeter on those old pit ledges, I no longer live there.

If I could sum up this season of our life with just one question it would be this: Do we trust God?  The answer, regardless of what it may be for any of us, is a profound one, and one that shades every single area of our lives.  Do I trust him to handle every area? My deepest struggles? My children? My fragility? My money? And the list can go on and on.  It is a challenge.  I have grown so much, and know that I still have so very much more to learn and to change.

And so, the challenges have come—some harder then others—each ripe with the fruit that can only come through journeying through the hard instead of avoiding it.  This month will be no exception.  This month we are tackling ways to save money on the everyday household stuff.  So, I am exploring and challenging myself to find ways that we as a family can cut back.  Simply, how can we steward what we have been given in a better way, one that is reasonable and works for our family?  

The following are a few steps we are implementing to save money this month:

1.  Build a budget.  True confession:  we have always made a budget (my hubby is into that sort of fun), but only with rare exception have we ever hit the target.  This month, not only will we build that budget, but we are going to do a little happy dance when the month is over and we have hit our target.  (No, I will not post the videos of said dance.)  We need to know where we are heading if we ever want to get somewhere, and a budget is a great road map.  The goal of our budget:  give some, save some, and live on less then our income.

2.  Stop eating out.  That means no drinks, no fast food, no restaurants.  If we can’t buy the food at the grocery store then it will not be purchased at all.  (This one is by far the hardest for us as a family.  There are just some nights this mommy prefers to delegate to a local restaurant.  *deep sigh*  I may already be forming a twitch over this issue) *The one exception is date night. Nobody is messing with date night!

3.  Buy only clothes that are needed.  Notice I said needed, not wanted.  And I will add one more point to this.  If I can find it at the thrift store, then that is where I will buy it.  (Underwear is NOT included in the previous statement…I just can’t handle that.)

4.  Plan our menus weekly and/or monthly.  I am not one who can handle planning a month out, so I am starting with planning our  meals out for a week.  If I plan, we are more prone to stay on target monetarily, AND eat healthier, AND save money by shopping smarter instead of last minute.

5.  Save money on meals by shopping at sales.  Did you know that you can look up most grocery store sales ads directly online?  (Examples: Raley’s and Safeway.)  It took me all of 15 minutes to see what stores had what on sale, and who had the better sales.  Knowing what is on sale and where really helps save.  Buying local produce from farmers’ markets is also a great way to save.  Additionally, we try to plan meals around what is in season and/or on sale.  This week, grocery shopping took me 2 hours, and I went to 3 stores.

6.  Shop for the whole week.  Instead of going back and forth to stores numerous times, we sit down, make a list, and then plan out our shopping accordingly.  It saves time, gas, and a whole lot of energy.  (I may really suck at this. It seems I am always forgetting something and having to go back.  I guess it is time to start a running list.)  Additionally, if I actually take an inventory of all that we have already stock piled, I may stop buying it and can use up what we already have…like our 5 bottles of mustard.

7.  Use coupons.  Now, I know that there are some out there that take “couponing” to a whole new level.  I am not that person.  In fact, I think I have used coupons exactly once before this week.  However, if (as I learned this week) I can quickly and easily find coupons online for things I actually use and need, then I don’t mind saving a few bucks. is one great resource I found this week that helped me find a few coupons.  *I see no point in buying something I would not typically buy even if there is a coupon for it.  So, I am sure to look for things that I will actually use, or I will buy a generic brand when possible.

8.  Buy larger cuts of meat.  Typically, larger cuts of meat are cheaper per pound.  Additionally, I can make several meals out of one piece, thereby giving me additional savings in both time and money.  For example:  this week I purchased an organic free range turkey on sale for less then $2 a lb.  The first meal is a baked turkey (I used apx. 1/4 of the meat to feed my family of 4).  Then, I stripped the turkey of most of its meat (NAKED turkey!), divided the meat in half, and put half in the freezer for later use (COLD naked turkey!).  I then threw the carcass in a stock pot (HOT naked turkey) along with a few veggies to make some seriously awesome homemade broth, which I froze.  I will use the left over meat to create an additional two meals.  So, a total of 3 meals, plus 2 gallons of stock, and tons of leftovers from just one awesome turkey purchase.  Total time to prep original meal: 20 minutes.

Chicken Broth

9.  Bake instead of buy.  Where I can, I carve out the time to make my own baked goods instead of buying their more expensive, heavily processed counterparts.  For example, this week I have returned to making our own bread.   It took me only about 20 minutes, and I really enjoyed the kneading, throwing, and possibly imagining certain faces in and the pounding of the dough.  The result was a loaf that was far less then $1, kids that thought I was awesome, and a moment of domestic bliss…until I realized that I try not to no longer eat bread.  Edie at LifeInGrace has an awesome Honey Wheat Bread recipe that is too good not to share.

Honey Wheat Bread

10.  Give myself grace.  As a mom, wife, and woman, this is probably what I struggle with the very most.  I am not going to be perfect at this. I am a work in progress, and that is ok.  I am moving forward, I am learning, and I need to stop being so hard on myself…and I have talked with enough women to know that I am not alone.  So, how does that help me save?  Well, I am less likely to do any emotional eating ($), spend time in a mental institution ($$$), have to continue therapy for an exorbitantly long time ($$), or pay for the therapy of my children ($$$).  But mostly, I will be better at giving grace, and that will save me from paying the extraordinarily high price of pride.

Ok, now it is your turn, dear beloved reader.  What are some of your money saving tips and tricks?  I wanna know!

Insanity and the Perfect Chai Tea

One evening this week I entered my kitchen to find the end of the world was upon us, and it was clearly starting in MY kitchen.  Normally, I am not one to freak out about bugs, spiders, snakes, etc.  but this had been a long, tiring, boundary pushing sort of week, and my sanity was already stretched to the breaking point.  The memo had been sent, God and I had chatted, and it was clear–nothing more was to happen this week, or I just might have what I commonly refer to as “a moment.” Those moments are not pretty. They may be filled with tears, the weeping and nashing of teeth, and the loss of any semblance of sanity.

I entered my kitchen to find it quite literally swarming and crawling with hundreds of little dark colored bugs.  Immediately I felt my skin start to itch as my mind raced.  WHAT WAS HAPPENING?  Quite literally just 15 minutes earlier I had seen no sign of bug life, and now it felt like I was living through an Old Testament plague (though small in scale).  I started stomping bugs while calling my husband and demanding that he come home immediately if he indeed loved me as he claimed.  Nothing was at all irrational about my screeching, panicked demands into the phone.  Nope, nothing at all.  The more I stomped, the quicker they seemed to multiply, and I could feel it coming…the complete loss of my remaining sanity.

Hubby came home in time to find me sitting on the floor crying, laptop in hand, updating my Facebook status.  Yeah, totally normal.  He may have asked why I should pick now to post to Facebook. Clearly, he did not understand my normalcy!  I may have not so calmly retorted through clenched teeth, “Vulnerability and transparency.  Have you forgotten that I am all about that?  And heaven forbid that I should show just how imperfect our life really can be?  Why do you question me, when clearly I am in deep need of prayer because I AM LOSING MY MIND over here.”  Yeah, like I said, totally normal.

My husband became my hero and killed all the big bad bugs, and I finished up my cry while I googled the bugs in question.  Termites!  Mating-looking-for-a-spot-for-a-new-termite-colony termites!  Oh, no, not in my kitchen you are not! After realizing what was happening, I decided to find the hole that they were using for entry.  And then my brilliance astounded even me—God bless my low income childhood. I decided that duck tape could indeed save the day.  Yeah. Duck tape.  Don’t judge me. And as my husband mocked me and questioned my sanity over such a choice, he humored me and patched the small hole with duck tape.  And, dear reader, much to my vindication, it worked!

Though my spouse has agreed never to question my brillance again—something I wish I could hold him to—I have been feeling the need for a victory in my domestic skills…the need for a little redemption in my otherwise less then stellar week.  And so, on my 5th attempt at making the perfectly spiced vanilla chai, I think I have achieved the greatest victory I dare hope for in this area—and a little normalcy—because, really, I am a budding Martha Stewart. (cue laughter) The bonus?  It costs far less then $1 a serving.  So, without further ado, if you like a sublimely flavored vanilla chai tea, then you have to try out this tasty recipe.

Vanilla Chai Tea Concentrate


8 bags of your favorite black tea

1 tsp. ground cloves

1½ tbsp. ground cinnamon

½ tsp. ground nutmeg

1 tsp. ground ginger

8 cardamon pods (cracked)

2 star anise pods (cracked)

¾ tsp. ground black pepper

2 tbsp. honey

½-¾ c. coconut sugar, to taste

4½ c. water

1 tsp. vanilla extract


First, measure out all of the spices into a large pot.  I found that using mostly ground spices really helped to enhance the flavor of the tea.

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Then, over medium-low heat gently message those tasty spices and warm them up for their adventure.  Not only will this make your house smell like an overly priced Yankee candle, but it will help make the concentrate taste even yummier.  (usually 2-3 minutes)

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Add water and stir.

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Throw in the tea bags, sugar, and honey.  Let them all mingle and become good friends until things get too heated (boiling).  Once it has started to boil, cover and turn off the burner.  Let steep for 10 minutes.

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Now pour the whole tasty mess into a strainer that you have lined with a cheese cloth.  This step removes the gritty taste that leaving all those ground spices in would give you…don’t ask how I know, just trust me. ;)  You can rinse out the cheese cloth, boil it in water for 15 minutes, (or you can totally forget it is boiling on the stove, boil all the water out and almost catch the remaining cheese cloth on fire) and reuse or you can just throw it away and buy a new one for the next time.

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Now gently stir in the crowning glory of this drink…the vanilla.

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Store in a glass container in the fridge for up to a week.  Mix concentrate with equal parts of your favorite milk (my favorite is half almond milk by Silk and half coconut milk).  Sprinkle with a bit o’ cinnamon and enjoy!

Betrayal, Love and the Easter Bunny

Easter.  Easily my favorite holiday.  And while I personally am not into the whole egg laying bunny or elaborate easter baskets, I hold nothing against them.  On a typical year we reread the story of Jesus’ resurrection, dress up in our spring best, dye eggs, cook yummy food, and enjoy family and friends.  This year, I am just not feeling any of the celebration.  This year, I am just still—face bowed, eyes full, hold me Jesus kinda still.  I have read the words so many times and never once stopped to pause at them:


He ate his last meal with the very one who would betray him.  I mean if you knew it was your last meal, as Jesus did, would you make sure to include your enemies?  I can only imagine the sorrow Jesus must have felt and the love that held him there.  The love.  Oh, the love!  I mean, this Jesus had been teaching this crazy concept of “loving your enemies,” and now here he is, in the last hours of his life, giving us such a powerful and vivid example of what that very idea can look like.  He even stooped to wash their feet.

“It was just before the Passover Feast.  Jesus knew that the time had come for him to leave this world and go to the Father.  Having loved his own who were in the world, he now showed them the full extent of his love.  The evening meal was being served…so he [Jesus] got up from the meal, took off his outer clothing, and wrapped a towel around his waist.  After that, he poured water into a basin and began to wash his disciples’ feet, drying them with the towel that was wrapped around him.” (John 13:1-2;4-5)

I am undone.  I am struggling to wrap my head around this sort of love.  It defies all earthly logic and wars against my flesh.  This is not simply a warm, fuzzy, feel good sort of love.  This is a totally selfless, I’m-willing-to-lay-my-life-down-and-hold-you-at-your-worst sort of love.  Agape love.  Simply, a only-God-can-do-it-in-you sort of love.  I will be quick to say that while I indeed want to be the recipient of this sort of love, I fear it would be all too easy to never learn how to truly give it.

I have known betrayal, heartache, and rejection…and my first response has never been to do what Jesus did.  And yet—the beauty of it—can you just picture it?  The incredible beauty of what Jesus did, and has done, and continues to do!  The one who loves us at our worst, just as we are.  The one who is the God of second chances, the forgiver.  The one who ultimately bore our crap so that one day we might know THIS sort of love.  A love that never fails.  This love, it takes me in, it lifts me up, and it changes me.  I want to love like Jesus did.  I want to love without first counting the cost; to be vulnerable, open, real and to not fear.  I want to love without putting up walls because of previous pain.  I want to love not just those who love me, but also the very ones that don’t.  That love is revolutionary, it changes everything, and it is the very heart of God.  Lord, please teach me to love like this.