A Wife Loved Like The Church

Archive for April 2010

Have you ever heard of the Five Love Languages? It’s essentially the five ways people give and receive love. I really wish clothes were on the list. Because I love getting clothes (or shoes!). In fact, over the years I think God has really shown me some love by giving me amazing deals on clothes – especially when I least expect it.

On Monday, I took the girls to Wal-Mart for a quick errand. Since we didn’t have anything planned, no real shopping to do, I decided to just stroll around the place (a rarity with two kids).  When I got over to the shoe department I found these:

They were marked down to $5 so I thought I’d treat myself to them. After all, they are polka dotted, which I love.

Anyways, when I was checking out, I looked at the total and thought “Um, that can’t be right.” It was $4.78. Remember, the shoes were $5. I leaned over to see the checkout screen better when I noticed….

The shoes were only $1!

I did a little happy dance and celebrated feeling loved.

Thanks God!

I’ve been a little hesitate to share my super secret recipe for tortillas on my blog. Not because they are really super secret, but because, well… I’m a little self conscious. You see, Jonathan’s grandmother taught me how to make tortillas about 2 years ago. It took me a few months to really figure it out and then a few months after that to not feel totally lost when making them. Once I felt more confident, I shared my wealth of tortilla-making knowledge with some friends. And then I freaked. What if people don’t like them? What if they don’t turn out right? What if, heaven forbid, Grandma learn I changed up the recipe a bit? It’s hard to follow in the footsteps of an 87 year old Hispanic grandma who’s been making amazing tortillas since she was 2. Yeah, I can’t compete with that.

But for your sakes, I’ve gotten over it. For now at least.

Here’s what you need:

Olive oil, salt, baking powder and flour

Oh, and your KitchenAid and dough hook.

Let me just tell you – this KitchenAid is amazing. Not necessarily this one, but just using a KitchenAid to make tortillas in ingenious! It does all the work. Hello? How nice is that?!

Add 2 cups flour

2 Tablespoons baking powder

1 Tablespoon salt

3 Tablespoons olive oil

At this point, you want to mix all the ingredients together. Note: You don’t have to use olive oil. You can use any oil (or butter). In the past I’ve used ghee (fancy word for clarified butter) and it makes some of the softest tortillas you’ll ever taste. Also, technically, you should use 2 tablespoons of oil. I bumped it up to give the tortillas a little more softness. I’ve used as much as 4 tablespoons per batch.

Add 3/4 cup to 1 cup warm water – mix well

You might notice the dough looks super sticky. It is. I added more flour to making it easier to handle. Sorry I didn’t measure, just dumped…

This is what you want your dough to look like:

Cover your tortillas and let set for 10-15 minutes.

Here’s what your dough will look like:

You’ll want to pull the dough apart into golf ball sized pieces.

You can get about 16 tortillas out of one batch. Be sure to cover them with a towel so they don’t dry out.

When you’re ready to roll them out, press them down a little with your hand (to make it flatter) and then dip in flour.

Then roll it out!

Cook on each side for 1-2 minutes, or until they are golden.

As a friendly tip, cook them on a low temperature. I set my griddle on medium-low when I first start my tortillas and let it heat up the entire time. WHY? Because it allows the griddle to be hot enough to cook the tortillas without over cooking (i.e. burning) them.

Here’s the outcome:


The whole process seems pretty long and drawn out – taking up to an hour from start to finish. For me, hands on time is about 15-20 minutes - which is just rolling out the tortillas. Mostly it’s waiting – waiting for the tortillas to set, waiting for them to cook, etc. Even with all the time you invest, it is so worth it!

Bon Appetit!

I just bought my first pair of skinny jeans this weekend, despite swearing them off as “nothing I would ever wear”. You see, I firmly believed they would give me an upside-down pear look. But, they don’t. And I actually like them. Shocking, I know.

Even more shocking – Jonathan picked them out for me. They wouldn’t have been my first choice, but as some might know, Jonathan is the better dresser and fashionite then me. So over the years I’ve learned to trust his taste.

And here they are:

*Please pardon the lack of make-up and slightly disheveled look. After all, it is 9:30 on a Monday morning. I’ve only had my first two cups of coffee, so I’m proud to be out of my pj’s already. ;)

I got my first tattoo at 20. At the time I never considered what my kids might say about it.

I got my second tattoo at 24. By then I was married and we were talking about having children. I realized one day my children might ask for a tattoo because of I have one (or maybe they won’t because it’s not cool to be like your mom).

Since getting my newest tattoo, Julia keeps asking me about my “owie”. The first night I told her it was called a tattoo and pointed out my other two to her – hoping to remind her that they aren’t really owies. She wasn’t convinced. Instead, she started calling the owie on her ankle a tattoo: “Daddy, look. My tattoo.” Sweeeet.

Yesterday, she kept pointing at my tattoo and saying “Mama, owie.” Again I went through explaining that it was a tattoo and not an owie. I asked her to point out my other tattoos and to touch those (since my new tattoo is still a little tender she hasn’t been allowed to touch it). After that, a lightbulb went off. And then… the moment I’ve been waiting for…  “Mama, I want tattoo.”

Auntie D over at Oh Fiddlestix is doing an amazing giveaway: J Crew flip flops. Love.

If you want to enter, head over to Auntie D’s and sign up!

#29. They wear a choir robe during the audition, one of those mauve numbers that hides your gender completely. = + 1

To add up your score with over a 130 other ideas on this scorecard, visit stuffchristianslike.net.

Today I’m participating in a massive guest post by Jon Acuff over at Stuff Christians Like. We’re doing a scorecard for rating whether a contestant on American Idol is a Christian. You should totally check it out: Is that contestant on American Idol a Christian?

Instead I went for a run.

That might be shocking, being a Christian and not going to church on a Sunday morning. Especially Easter Sunday. The Sunday of all Sundays. But I didn’t go.

While I was running a car passed me. Before I even saw it I could hear it. The driver had blown their tire. You know that sound. Thump, thump, thump against pavement. As they passed I noticed they pulled into the neighborhood church lot. Perfect. If you’re going to have a flat tire, at least have it in a church parking lot.

As I got closer to the lot, I spotted the car and it’s driver. A girl in her early twenties. As she stood looking at the shredded tire it didn’t take me long to realize that she had no clue what to do. I keep running and watching. One couple walked by. Then another. And another. No one was stopping. Finally someone did. Then they left. As I was coming parallel to the car I thought “I need to stop and help her”. I ran down the small hill to the lot and asked if she needed some help. She responded “yes”. After a brief exchange, I got her spare out of the car and told her to go inside since the service was about to start.

Now imagine if you will – a sweaty (remember, I’d been running), tattooed woman in shabby clothes in a church parking lot changing a tire on Easter. What better image of a person in need? What better image of someone Christ died for?  But in the 20-some-odd minutes it took me to change the tire, not one person helped. In fact, several people walked right past without so much as a word or nod. At one point, I made eye contact with a young 30-something man who was looking for a parking space. As soon as we made eye contact he quickly drove off. And it hit me:

Church is more important than Christ.

As Christians we can put the focus on the wrong things. We put our focus on church attendance. We put our focus on not stepping on toes. We put our focus on skirting around the real issues.  We put our focus on seeing someone in need and justifying why we can’t help. “I can’t help because I’d get dirty. I can’t help because if they needed it they’d ask. I can’t help because then I’d be late. I can’t help because I’m not ‘called to that’.”

It’s very easy for me to judge these people. To think that I am better than them. But I’m not. How many times have I seen someone in need and not helped? How many times have I made an excuse?

In Luke 5, Jesus eats with a group of sinners at the home of Matthew (a tax collector). The Pharisees are appalled by this action. Jesus responses to them: “Healthy people don’t need a doctor – sick people do. I have come to call not those who think they are righteous, but those who know they are sinners and need to repent.” (Luke 5:31-32, NLT)

By the time I finished changing the tire, I left praising God. I praised God for His forgiveness. I praised God for His grace. I praised God for His love and mercy. I praised God for taking a moment of my life and teaching me more about Himself. Easter is not about church. Easter is not about eggs or candy. Easter isn’t even about family and friends. Easter is about Christ. Easter is the pinnacle moment in our Christian faith. It is the moment that signifies our right standing and reconnection to God through Christ. Easter is when we realize – we’re sick and need a doctor and Christ is that doctor.


I had this pretty awesome stuffed cat growing up. He was the perfect size for snuggling and being a hand-me-down already had some pretty good “love” on him. One problem – I was too young when I got him to name him myself. So my brothers named him for me. He was given the lovely name Buttcat.

Ok, you can stop laughing now. No, really.

I’ll be honest Buttcat (who was later nicknamed BC to keep down the snickering from my junior high girlfriends) isn’t the cutest cat I’ve seen. Never will I say he’s ugly, since beauty is in the eye of the beholder. But, I know the truth, and the truth is he looks a lot like Stimpy from Ren and Stimpy (although Buttcat totally came first – just so you know). Still Buttcat holds a pretty special place in my heart and I doubt I’ll ever part with him – much to Jonathan’s chagrin.

When Hannah was born, our friends gave her this cute little bear (above). Over the last month she’s gotten pretty attached to it. In fact, every time I put her in her crib, she crawls over, grabs the bear and snuggles it to sleep. Very precious. Bear doesn’t have a name. We’ve been calling it “Hannah’s bear” since I can’t come up with any good names. I’ve had some suggestions, but nothing that’s stuck. One friend suggested just leaving it “bear” until Hannah is older and can name it for herself. But I’m worried that the bear will forever just be “bear” – which isn’t bad, just not very cute. At the same time, I really don’t want the bear getting a name that will forever scar it. You know, like Buttbear or something crazy like that.

Here’s where you come in. I want your name suggestions. Dazzle me with your best bear name.

Tomorrow is Easter. The day that changed who I am. The day my Savior conquered death and rose again. The day that brings me hope.

This afternoon I got a tattoo. The tattoo is named the “symbol of hope” and it represents a hopeful cure for colon cancer.

Colon cancer? Why colon cancer? Nearly two years ago my dear friend Brittney Mann lost her battle with colon cancer. She shared with me that it was one of her aspirations to get this same tattoo once she beat the cancer. Since she wasn’t able to, I decided I would get the tattoo as a way to honor and remember her. But it’s even deeper than that.

I love that it’s named “symbol of hope”. I know where Brittney’s hope laid. Not in a cure. But in Christ.

Christ is my hope.

Because of His death on the cross, my sins were washed clean.

Because of His resurrection, my life is eternal.

In Christ alone, my hope is found.

I miss Brittney more than I can express. I joyfully look forward to the day when I can see her again. When we can rejoice together in our completeness, in our healing, and in our hope. And with even more joy, I look forward to that same day when I can see my Savior, face to face, and find my hope fulfilled.

This tattoo may not be a cross or a picture of Jesus, but it represents Christ to me. It is a symbol that He came and conquered. It is a symbol that He loves me and died for me. It is a symbol that HE is my hope.

While on this earth we may never find a cure for cancer, but Jesus holds the cure for our sins through salvation in Him.

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