October 11: The Best Whole Wheat Pumpkin Bread with Chocolate Chips


I know that "the best" may seem like a prideful exaggeration, but trust me, it really is THE BEST. And if you don't believe me, take it from my pickiest eater child, who exclaimed:

"Oh man!! Mom!! This is awesome!!"


So, put this yumminess in the oven to warm up your house on a crisp, chilly day, like today! I promise, if autumn had a taste, this would be it!


Note: The amount of pumpkin in this recipe will create a little bit of gooeyness on the bottom of the loaf due to some settling, which I happen to love! What is "pumpkin" bread without a lot of pumpkin, after all? If you don't, just use less pumpkin.



The Best Whole Wheat Pumpkin Bread with Chocolate Chips
{makes 1 9x5 inch loaf}


2 eggs, beaten
1/3 cup whole milk
1/2 cup coconut oil, melted {or one stick butter}
1 15 oz. can pumpkin
1/2 cup pure maple syrup
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 
2 cups whole wheat flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon each of ground cloves, allspice, ginger, & nutmeg
{or sub 1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice}
1/2 cup milk chocolate chips, optional
{but seriously, is chocolate ever really optional??}


Preheat the oven to 325 degrees F. Coat your loaf pan with coconut oil or butter, whichever you prefer. Combine all the wet ingredients. Combine the ingredients in a single bowl in the order they're mentioned--no wet, dry, folding, mixing nonsense. Then stir in the chocolate chips. The batter will be thick, so after you scrape it into the loaf pan, level out the top with a spatula. Bake for 1 hour and 30 minutes or until center is cooked through. Let cool about ten minutes before removing from the pan.

For less fat content, you can substitute applesauce for the coconut oil/butter. And note that, as with all whole/real food recipes, it's best to use organic ingredients as much as possible.


Enjoy!

And use the Pinterest button below to save it for later.





October 10: A Peaceful Protest Against the Unrealistic Cultural Expectations of Motherhood



Today I participated in a sit-in, or rather, a sit-down in this case. I occupied the couch in my living room for most of the day in protest of the unrealistic cultural expectations placed on us as mothers.

My littles were feeling under the weather, and I was pleased at all the kid shows that were available on AmazonPrime--7 seasons of Curious George, a new season of Sesame Street, Wild Kratts, and more--so on the couch we sat. 

We sat in protest of the toys all over the floor that didn't get picked up and put away by lunchtime. We sat in protest of the two hampers of laundry across the room that taunted me and beckoned me to fold them. 

We sat. Together.

And we snuggled on the couch. And I smelled her soft hair and rubbed her sweet belly and whispered a quiet "I love you" in her ear. And we kicked a beach ball in the house and we read books and we played Legos on the floor.

I sat in protest of the organization guru's and the "clean mama's" who, simply by the photos of their pristine homes and tidy cupboards, can easily make you think that you are less then if your house isn't as clean and put together. All. The. Time. If I take a photo in which the surrounding area looks tidy, it's because I shoved all the crap out of the little square of space that's visible in the camera viewfinder. 

I sat and didn't bother glancing at the kitchen floor that hasn't been mopped in a year. And I stacked today's mail on top of yesterday's, which was still on the counter. The counter that probably hasn't been wiped off. 

I sat in protest of the healthy eating mommy armies, which make you think that if you provide anything less then a sandwich in the shape of an autumn leaf, made out of homemade, grain-free bread that you got up at 4am to put in the oven and homemade jam you canned from berries from your backyard garden this summer and almond butter you whipped up in your food processor {because it's so much cheaper then buying it at the store}, and organic apples and raw milk cheese cut into festive fall shapes with mini cookie-cutters and a Trader Joe's something-or-other-healthier-option-dessert… that you are a terrible mother and have failed miserably. 

I sat because some days it just takes too much effort to cut up a non-organic apple to go with a traditional, no-bells-and-whistles, peanut butter and jelly sandwich. On regular bread. And that's ok.

I sat in protest of being busy for the sake of being busy. That your value is found in productivity.

I sat in protest of defining your worth by how well you are keeping up with the Pinterest Generation. 

I sat in protest of Facebook culture that tells us that our lives have to be boast-worthy and enviable and together at all times…because everyone else is, right?

I sat because…living a normal, messy, chaotic, frustrating, joyful, beautiful, mundane life…is okay. 

We want to run from the mess, hide the mess, pretend it's not there, or shove it into the closet and pray that no one opens the door when company is over. But God wants us to invite Him into the mess, because He will be glorified there. 

The mess is okay because my value isn't found there. It's not what I do or how well I do it or even who thinks I'm doing it well or not.

I am who Christ says I am. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

October 8: Deep Calls to Deep: When You Feel Like You're Drowning in Life



I have this irrational fear of running my van off the road into a lake with all my children inside.

Subconsciously, I hold my breath and my chest tightens, imagining how the scenario would unfold. The panic, the sheer terror as the water begins flooding in, the van sinking to the depths with all of us trapped inside, screaming.

Who would I unbuckle first? Who would I save if I didn't have time to grab everyone, and how would I choose? Would I even be able to get out of the car, or would we all be totally screwed?

Not that this doesn't happen to people, but this is probably an irrational fear for me as we live…inland. And not around any lakes that one could, without a lot of effort, drive a car into haphazardly.

That's how it goes with most fears, though, isn't it? It's so much bigger and badder in your mind then in real life. In fact, many of them wouldn't actually play out in real life…at all.

I find that a lot of the time, when I'm overwhelmed by life and the house and my children and my to-do list and crazy schedules, I feel like I'm trapped in that proverbial van of panic and fear. Gasping for breath, clawing at the door, desperately trying to think of a way out, wondering if anyone notices that I'm sinking.

Deep calls to deep in the roar of your waterfalls; all your waves and breakers have swept over me. {Psalm 42:7}

I tend to get frozen in time. I sit there, staring out the window, watching the water splash up over the brim, then proceed to rise. Higher. And higher. And I'm sitting there, sinking.

I look around at the mess of a house we live in on a daily basis, and I wonder, where does one even start to get things cleaned up and organized? And then keep it that way?

How does one get up in the morning, on time, with the first chime of the alarm, when you are still sooo tired, every day? And how does one stumble over to the treadmill in that foggy state, without any coffee??

And how does one navigate the field of parenting and manage to avoid all the land mines littered across that expanse in the process? How do you not lose a leg to bullying, a hand to picky eating, ears to all the fighting, arguing, and back-talking, and a heart to struggles and pain of your children?

How do I balance yet another task, maybe even a good and fun one, without the whole house of cards crashing down around you? How do you hold it all up without the weight of it all crushing you? Pulling you down into the dark deep. Gasping for breath but inhaling only water…

Because ultimately, if you don't get out of that van, there will be certain death.

And I have wondered lately if all the fear and the panic and the being overwhelmed are pushing me towards a place I don't often want to go.

Certain death.

Not in the physical sense, but the spiritual. Death to self.

When I realize I'm sinking, maybe instead of clawing at the windows and desperately trying to figure a way out, I need to just…allow it. Feel all the feels and think all the panicky thoughts, but then bring it to the Lord. Because if anyone can dredge a sinking soul out of the murky deep, it's a God who can walk on water.

And He doesn't just rescue us from the depths of our sin, He promises to make all things new.

This means that anyone who belongs to Christ has become a new person. The old life is gone; a new life has begun! {2 Corinthians 5:17}

But the old life has to die before the new is born. One has to lean into the pain and fear, allowing the van to sink instead of seeking another way or trying to get out. Only then can the Lord resurrect the new, dredge the transformed soul up from the depths.

I feel the Lord gently calling me into the deep, but it's a scary place to go. I know that there's new life on the other side, that there's redemption and purpose, but the process of surrender can be agonizing. Learning to lean into the Lord instead of trying to claw my way out or think of another way.

Father, give me the courage and discipline to just…sink. Where deep calls to deep.


There are far, far better things ahead than any we leave behind. {C.S. Lewis}



October 1: Greater is the One Living Inside of Me



My soul feels tired. Tormented by schoolyard woes. Overwhelmed by the demands of life. Drowning in laundry and sight words. Fighting off sickness in my flesh. Sneezing out worry & coughing up fear. My throat is sore.

When I get anxious about the future, God says He's already there.

When I worry about my children, God says they're in His hands.

When I think that I'm a failure, God says He never condemns.

When I feel like I can't go on, God says the battle's already won.

When I feel sick and tired, God says He's in the business of healing.

When I wonder if I'll ever be enough, God says He's more then enough for me.

When life isn't going how I'd thought, God says it's under control.

When I can't seem to measure up, God says I'm precious to Him.

When I feel dirty from the grime of sin, God says he can wash me clean.

When I feel so lost, God says I can be found in Him.


His thoughts are higher then my thoughts and His ways higher then my ways. He is the Way. And the Truth. And the Life. 


Call to Me and I will answer you. I'll tell you marvelous and wondrous things that you could never figure out on your own. 
Jeremiah 33:3


His words are powerful, moreso then any earthly, human thought, and they can set you free. They can give you life. Real life.

If you let them.


For greater is the One living inside of me then he who is living in the world.



September 26: To WAIT: A Lost Art



WAIT {weyt}

verb:
1. {archaic} to be available or in readiness for
2. to look forward to eagerly
3. to continue as one is in expectation of; await

noun:
4. an act or instance of waiting or awaiting; delay; halt
5. a period or interval of waiting
6. {obsolete} a watchman

synonyms: 
await, linger, abide, delay, tarry. Tarry is a somewhat archaic word for wait, but it suggests lingering, perhaps aimlessly delaying, or pausing (briefly) in a journey. {dictionary.com}


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


Today the kids were home from school, and I was looking forward to a relaxing/hanging out at home/playing outside kinda day, especially since some of us are still kicking a cold. 

Instead my morning was met with the fallout from a "Babysitters Beware" movie we watched last night, complete with finger paint in the sink and toilet, the bathroom covered in toilet paper, legos and flossers strewn around the floor, paper glued to the walls, and a bag of chia seeds perched atop the door, which promptly bursted open upon missing it's intended target {me} and crashing to the floor. 

Note: Don't let your kids watch that movie. There was a good message in there somewhere about families being a team and all, but it was lost to my kids in all the intriguing naughtiness. They also missed the "do not try this at home" memo. After all the cleanup, I pray they learned their lesson. 

And I didn't even get to my cup of coffee until about 2pm. This was serious. 

So when I finally got around to the things I needed to do about midday, they needed my help with something. Of course. I've tried to be better about not dropping what I'm doing and attending to their every whim and having them do for themselves what they were able to, but this task involved a permanent marker, so I told them they had to wait until I was done. 

And when you're six or seven, waiting is really hard. We're talking excruciating. 

No sooner did I turn the vacuum back on and I noticed Clayton was missing from the table where they were all supposed to be sitting eating lunch. He had already grabbed the permanent marker and was getting ready to take care of it himself when I stopped him.

"What does wait mean?" I asked. The question was met with a side glance and shrugged shoulders.

"Does it mean get up out of your chair and write it yourself?" I'll give you a hint: NO. 

"It means sit there until I'm done, and I will help you."


Do you ever say something, and no sooner is it out of your mouth and you feel God saying those exact words right back to you? Ya, parenting can be a b$%&* like that sometimes.

Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. Psalm 27:14 

We plan the way we want to live, but only God makes us able to live it. Proverbs 16:9

I was expecting a friend in the afternoon, and after this morning's fiasco, I was quite behind on the housework on the main floor to make the house even presentable, let alone clean. It is amazing what you can get done in a hurry if you need to, though, and I was able to get the floors cleaned up and swept in time.

As I finished up, it occurred to me that if she had been a little early, even just 5 or 10 minutes, she would've been greeted with a very different house. A much, much dirtier house. In those 10 minutes I was able to get the entire kitchen picked up and swept, thus leaving the house looking…clean. 

To wait means...

To linger, to be expectant, await, linger, abide, in readiness for, look forward to eagerly,  a watch{wo}man.

It doesn't mean…

Continuing, acting, going, doing, taking care of it yourself…


We can plan all we want but it's the Lord who orders our steps. He makes it possible; He makes it come to pass. And in HIS timing, not ours. Not a moment too soon, not a moment too late. 

You see, if we try to take care of it ourselves, if we try to force it or make it happen, the Lord isn't ready yet. He doesn't have all the pieces in their perfect place. 

Life is like this big elaborate chess board, and the Lord is the Ultimate Strategist. He has all the moves planned out, but it takes time. One move at a time. One piece at a time.

One move creates an opportunity for another, and another, and they build upon each other. This strategic and purposeful dance around the board, courting and watching and waiting for one another. All the pieces are important, and each serve their purpose. 

And in the end, it's all about the King. 

It's the King that directs our moves and orders our steps, and it's for His glory. 


He's always working; He's always moving. 

Do you see Him? Are you watching? Because if you are, you'll see it. 

We are a people who are so busy going and doing and acting and taking care of it ourselves that we forget to wait on God. We forget that we need to, that He's the one who makes it happen anyways. We've forgotten that in the end it's all about the King. 

And the King has to work in you before He can work through you. He has a strategy. He has a plan for your life {Jer. 29:11}, but it's one move at a time, and it will take time. 

And the Ultimate Strategist? Ya, He's already won.