I got called out last month.

Name is hidden to protect the identity of my most favorite baby onesie maker in the whole world.

Crazy, amazing needlepoint skills.

And I have to make her happy until I’m 100% sure I’m done having kids.

But she was totally right.

My Pintertest Kitchen was not the healthiest.

So here, my friends, is my first ever reduced calorie recipe review.

Favorite baby onesie maker, this is for you.

I knowwww, right?

The name alone almost made this a deal breaker.

But also so intriguing that I had to try these two ingredient marvels.

Not bad, I tell you.

Especially at only 138 calories per brownie.

Not awesome.

But not terrible.

Worth making.

We can’t have the world, people.

It’s black beans we’re dealing with.

Recipe here.

This was my favorite of the three recipes I tried.

Especially at 128 calories/muffin.

BUT.

The original recipe post has a pretty critical typo.

Baking with 2 TABLESPOONS of wheat flour looks like this:

Baking with 2 CUPS of wheat flour looks like this:

MUCH better.

Also, I was almost out of honey after the first round so
I subbed 2/3 honey for 1/3 honey + 1/3 sugar-free vanilla Torani syrup.

Next time I will use the full 2/3 honey because I feel like they would have been better had they been sweeter.

Dense but good, especially considering the calories.

Recipe here.

You have to scroll down a bit.

And be sure to adjust the wheat flour.

Unless you’re into inverted, soupy muffins.

And well, we can’t win them all.

These coconut cookies didn’t work out.

But it could have been my burn out after the double batch of muffins.

Or the fact that meringue and I don’t really get along.

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Your turn.

What have you been up to?

We were able to chat last night for me/this morning for him via FaceTime.

Kayla told him about the faux gold nuggets that Pop Pop gave her yesterday.

And asked if there were goats there.

Gold and goats.

That’s about right.

Ashlyn asked if he got his shots yet.

She wanted to go with him until she heard about the vaccination requirements.

Lightweight.

God is doing amazing things in Sudan.

I love that I can kind of see it.

And I can’t wait to hear more when they are home.

I went to a funeral on Saturday.

For a dear soul that taught Sunday School in the church that I grew up in.

I was blessed to have her.

And blessed by the Jolly Ranchers she gave me when I memorized verses.

Her family spoke of her devotion to Christ and His Word.

How they would recall hearing her pray out loud, early in the morning.

Very often she had her bible in hand.

Any time she talked with you, she looked you in the eyes and gently grabbed your arm.

I remember that about her.

And she did not have an easy life.

Much harder than mine.

Yet she remained loyal.

Devout.

Committed.

On the drive back, I got to thinking.

What will my kids remember about me?

What will they say after I’m gone?

That I always had my bible in my hand?

Or that I was always holding my phone.

Am I praying out loud in the morning or ever?

Am I intensionally teaching them?

And, more importantly, am I LIVING what I’m teaching them?

Or just surviving until bedtime.

A good dose of conviction was received on the 505.

And one I’m going to listen to.

I want to be remembered for my devotion to Christ.

Not the things of this world.

Now hear me.

Obviously, technology is not evil or bad.

I actually think it’s a gift from the Lord, if used rightly.

Fellowship on steroids.

I love it.

I have no plans to give it up.

I just want to use it less.

I don’t want to be remembered for it.

Even if I really, really, REALLY love it when we’re 9077 miles apart.

Thank you, 505 and your 8 zillion bugs.

Thank you, Dorothea Jacobs.

God used you to teach me something.

Unrelated.

This.

Link up.

Hello, big five year old!

I can’t hardly believe it.

Hello, birthday celebration at school.

And birthday spankings.

Which are illegally awesome.

Hello, strawberry cupcakes with fake pink vanilla frosting.

Because she likes fake frosting better than real frosting.

My hope, by the time she leaves our house, is that she love Jesus and real buttercream.

In that order, obviously.

Hello, little classmates sharing what they love best about her.

Mostly her special party dress.

And her “eye.”

Hello, Pre-K is the best age in all the universe.

Hello, birthday dinner at her favorite establishment.

Chicken strip in one hand, ice cream spoon in the other.

Hello, sweet party guests.

And beautiful, 80 degree weather that knew it was her party day.

Hello, hat decorating.

Hello, glitter and glue and stickers and sequins and feathers, still all over my floor.

Hello, creative friend who let me steal her idea.

Hello, more cupcakes with fake frosting.

And lots and lots of sprinkles.

Hello, presents!

Hello, Giants game on in the background.

Always.

Hello, gift unwrap assistants.

So eager to see the birthday girl open their thoughtful gifts.

Hello, letting balloons go at dusk.

And then popping some of them on the grass.

Hello, childhood memories being made.

Hello, entertaining older sister.

I love that she inherited her grandpa’s strong party presence.

Hello, bedtime bootcamp.

Hello, explaining for weeks beforehand:
“mommies don’t sit on the bed and wait an hour for FIVE year olds to fall asleep…”

It probably also helped that I shared it as the thing I love best about her in class.

“What I love best about Ashlyn is that she is going to go to sleep all by herself tonight!”

And then her teacher reinforced it.

While she gave us both the sideways stank eye.

But it’s working!!!

Six straight nights of mommy-free bedtime.

With a little help from her lion friends.

Happiest of birthdays, Ashlyn Grace.

We love you.

I was vague.

Because I feel I have to be sometimes.

A wise friend told me that whatever I write here, assume that it’s going on the church announcement overhead.

And I keep that in mind.

Always.

But my heart struggles with accuracy.

Honesty.

When you read, I want you to see our reality.

When I read back, I want to remember the way things truly were.

Not the way I wanted them to be.

I don’t want to miss out on God’s work in our church.

In my life.

If I’m not honest about the peaks and valleys of this journey.

So when I said Easter was full of yucky feelings.

They were YUCKY.

Dave, sensing my pending meltdown, does what he does best.

Googles nearby concerts.

He’s excellent at sensing when I’m about to lose it and we run off together.

And this, my friends, is how we ended up in Sacramento on Tuesday.

And why I write today, still sane.

A 17-year-old that looked like Napoleon Dynamite but sang like Dave Matthews opened.

Weird combo that I think I had a nightmare about last night.

But he was good!

Keep your eyes out for Zack Heckendorf.

But he’ll probably change his name.

Keep your eyes out for Zack Heck.

Talented kid.

So.

Super small movie theater like venue.

And we rushed the stage like Zack Heck would.

But a million times worth it.

I could see he has a filling in his back right molar.

That close.

Crisis averted.

Thanks babe.

I love you more than Mat.

And Zack Heck.

Hello future Hope worship team.

You guys are cute.

Hello little family at the first of two outreach events on Saturday.

I love you.

Hello 100+ kids hearing the gospel at two separate Good News Clubs.

Thank you Pam, Camilla and Tamara.

Your love for Jesus and heart for the lost challenges me greatly.

Hello sweet little egg hunt turned competitive and ugly.

Guess who won?

Hello Easter morning.

Hello yucky feelings of inadequacy and doubt and insecurity

because I had hoped and prayed more would come to service.

Hello CHURCH. PLANTING. IS. HARD.

And it makes me cling to this verse.

Hello waking up this morning and being reminded that the only Person who needed to show up, did.

And powerfully.

Hello trampoline without a safety net at my aunt and uncle’s.

Hello mom-of-a-kid-with-a-device-in-her-head ANXIETY.

Hello real bunny.

Hello 4,678 requests from Ashlyn for a real bunny on our way home.

Happy Easter, friends.

Linking up with Lisa Leonard.

I should be making eggs.

Or some cute spring-y craft.

But I just wanted cake batter.

So consider this a 100% selfish PinterTest Kitchen.

But I will not apologize.

Who apologizes for cake batter?!

Crazy people do.

People who, as children, hid their Easy Bake raw cake mix packets under their beds to eat at night do NOT.

That’s for sure.

Not that I would know anything about that.

So.  Well.  Where was I?

Hope Leadership tried four recipes during last night’s meeting.

While Hope Leaders of the Future set up a horse ranch in the playroom.

Kobi deserves some treats for his cooperation.

Back to the Funfetti.

So I assumed a step-by-step on each might be a little umm… BORING.

I fell asleep just thinking about it.

So I will give my honest review of each.

Ready?

Let’s do this.

So, no offense, cake batter cookies.

But not our favorite.

SUPER sweet.

Which is probably due to an entire box of cake mix required for the batter.

And super sticky, hard-to-work with.

My scoop is still grumpy.

Next time I would add a few tablespoons of cake batter to a standard sugar cookie recipe.

And add lots of sprinkles.

Sorry.

It’s not you, it’s us.

We were 50/50 on this one.

A little on the sweet side.

And I think it may have needed more time to set.

Because I just had some for breakfast and it’s 100% better.

Still pretty sweet.  But solid, at least.

Thanks for playing, birthday cake fudge.

This was not bad.

The least cake-batterish tasting of all the recipes.

If I made it again, I would add more cake batter mix to the white chocolate.

I did like the contrast between the dark and white chocolates.

I did not like searching all over the Peninsula for vanilla flavored almond bark.

Goodbye, cake batter bark.  It’s been real.

WINNER! WINNER!

I want to eat this for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Really, REALLY delicious.

And so easy.

10 mins start to finish.

Out of all the recipes, the one I’m most likely to repeat.

Like now.

For breakfast.

Along with my cake batter fudge.

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Your turn!

What have you been making?

Link up below!

I have a love/hate relationship with this Instagram photo-a-day challenge.

Like today.

I have to take a picture of my shower.

But at the end of each month, I’m thankful for the little bits of history it forces me to record.

Here are some of my faves.

And some rambling to go along with.

Or women.

My version of the photo challenge is open to slight interpretation.

Here are the girls before church.

Set-up team prays.

We read.

When pastoring a church, it’s important to have pastor friends from different churches.

Accountability, Support, Fellowship.

And fun.

The Cybulski’s are fun.

And a huge blessing to us.

Dave washing Ashlyn’s feet during service.

An illustration of Christ’s work on our behalf.

A stretch.

The other option was a self portrait of my coffee pot clean up duty.

This was 1,000 times cuter.

This little circle has changed our lives.

And given us a very chatty daughter.

“I don’t hear you.”

“You don’t hear me.”

Her favorite response when I ask her to eat her vegetables.

I wonder if it has a filter.

That needs to be up.

April 19 is the day after Ashlyn’s 5th birthday.

And stay in your own bed forever day.

Pray for us.

The Hungry kind.

These are my not-creepy-at-all friends I met over the Internet.

Erin hosted us for a super fun, way-to-fast weekend.

That included a gift exchange at dinner before the movie.

Hi Jules.

Technically, the Chef’n StemGem Strawberry Stem Remover.

Technically, the best gadget ever made.

We’re on our third.

We have a strawberry problem.

And that’s a wrap on March.

Hello April.

Oh.  One more thing.

This is happening on Thursday.

Just a little friendly reminder.

Goodbye.

When Dave gets excited about something, he gets chatty.

Baseball season about to start?

Chatty.

The Niners potentially (and unsuccessfully) acquiring Manning?

Chatty.

Sovereignty of God, predestination, propitiation, etc.?

CHATTY.

He’s also one of those weirdos that likes being convicted.

Which means he’s chatty about his convictions.

Which means I get convicted.

Which means I. LOVE. BEING. A. PASTORS. WIFE!!!!!!

Kidding.

I really do love being a pastor’s wife.

He shared about the above verse last night at prayer meeting.

And I can’t stop thinking about it.

It’s so easy to be a hearer, right?

We are trained to be hearers.

Listen to your parents.

Listen to your teachers.

Listen to your pastors.

Listen.

Listen.

Listen.

All good.

We need to learn.

But what are we DOING with that knowledge?

Are we taking risks?

Sharing Christ?

Filling a need when we see one?

Coming alongside those who are lonely?

Coming alongside those who are burdened and/or overwhelmed?

It’s so easy to go to bible studies.

Stay held up in our little groups.

Noses stuck in our bible, dictionary and/or concordance.

Marinating on the Greek and Hebrew.

But never DOING anything with all that He teaches us.

Scripture is clear.

Our works do NOT save us.

Our works, through the power of the Holy Spirit, show the world WHO saved us.

So when your husband says, “Hey babe, Can I go to Sudan?”

You say, “OK.”

To see convictions made real?

Nothing more awesome.

Even when your mom calls in a panic to tell you about a friend of a friend’s daughter’s sister
who got attacked “somewhere in Africa.”

Thanks, Mom.

So Dave is convicted.

I am convicted.

And now hopefully YOU are convicted.

Have fun.

Kayla’s home “sick.”

And was miraculously cured a few minutes ago.

So we’re off to go wash the dog.

My brain is kind of empty still.

But I get anxious going a full week without a post.

Self imposed blog stress.

Which is ridiculous.

But it’s real, people.

So I will bore you with miscellany.

Our church’s website looks like this right now.

So scary, right?

Darn you, Google.

Have you no regard for Holy Week festivity information sharing?

Taking over the world and our little website.

Patrick and Jason Garvey to the rescue.

Although Jason texted last night saying: “no bueno.”

Which is probably no bueno.

Jason and Niki ushered in Hope’s newest member yesterday.

Abigail Anne.

Isn’t she cute?

We love her already.

Welcome, sweet Abi.

Spring has sprung.

So has ghetto swing making in skivvies.

My hydrangeas are almost blooming.

I love spring.

Dave is going to Africa next month.

Which means I find docs like these saved on our desktop.

Which kind of stresses me out.

But not really.

I’m lying.

No I’m not.

I don’t know.

Kim and I are headed down to the OC for a quick jaunt.

Hunger Games premiere with my favorite RHOC.

Leave late tonight. Home Saturday morning.

Sometimes I feel like a real jet setter.

Until next week.

Maybe.

Random rambling about random pictures.

Not really having to think.

I like not thinking more and more these days.

Lots of this game being played around here.

She thinks she instantly wins any time she picks up a Sorry card.

And I just agree because I don’t remember what the Sorry card means.

“Ohhh sahhh-weee!” she says.

This book and I have issues.

The premise: Camilla turns rainbow stripey when she doesn’t eat her veggies.

Sure, Ashlyn ate lima beans that night.

But is now afraid of stripes.

So when she sneaks into our bed at 3 am and I give her the cross-eye?

She whispers: “But the stripes!”

If you’re coming over to visit, wear solids.

‘Tis the season!

I do love how Girl Scout cookies pretty much sell themselves.

Except for Thank You Berry Much and Dulce de Leche.

Stick to the classics, people.

And yes, we sold at church.

I don’t believe Jesus would turn tables over Thin Mints.

Dulce de Leche?  Maybe.

Happy 1st Birthday, Addison!

I think the older kids would have taken this sweet baby out for her frosting.

Good thing she didn’t like it much.

I can’t believe she’s one.

Teri, make her stop.

Birthday Party #2 that day for Kayla’s friend, Grace.

The Lorax in 3-D.

Gracie’s dad went ahead of us and prepped goodie bags for all the girls.

Followed by a sleepover.

Gracie’s mom is still recovering.

Oops.

Why can I never remember picture day??!

Have you had these chips yet?

Have you had Emily‘s guacamole?

Find anyone’s guacamole.

And add these chips.

I love how much Kayla loves babies.

Although look at those cheeks.

What’s not to love??

Happy 8 months, Hayden!

Our playroom is off the house, on the other side of the garage.

I think it used to be a porch and the previous owners closed it in.

It’s still not finished.  The decorating, I mean.

So it makes me feel OK that kids eat dinner on the floor, reading books.

Childhood is the best, isn’t it?

Happy Friday, friends!