This past weekend I celebrated 8 years of sobriety, and as I reflected on this journey, it revealed to me the absolute sovereignty of the Lord in my life.

There is no reason for me to be sober. In fact, I was pretty heavily dependent on substances before coming to know Christ. Even before knowing Him, I had moments of revelation that I needed to give those things up. When I gave my life to Christ, I had an instant moment of sanctification where I gave up the ways of the world. And then, 8 months into it, I slowly let those things creep back in.

If I look at my journals from that time, I can see that I was wrestling with whether or not drinking had become a problem or simply wasn’t serving me anymore. It’s as if I knew, but didn’t want to give it up because of the comfort—or really, the relief—that it would bring me by the end of the day. Not only was it heavily social, but it did relax everything. The thought of being fully present was a little scary.

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However, within that year at school, I had prayed over whether or not to take an elective that wouldn’t count toward my degree but interested me. I felt led to take it, and it was essentially a course that went over the teachings, writings, and thoughts of Jonathan Edwards. This man had a lot to say about faith, sanctification, the Holy Spirit, and Christ.

One of his writings specifically talks about the relationship between vice and virtue, and long story short, I began to understand that we often reach for vices because, in some way, we have mistaken them for something beautiful. Our hearts are geared toward love, and what we love will inevitably shape what we pursue. The surrender of vice, then, is not simply about looking at something ugly and deciding to stop wanting it. It is about having our hearts turned again toward the One True Beauty, Christ.

This struck me, and it embedded itself into my thought life and heart.

At the same time, a friend of mine invited me out for the night, and I felt a challenge within my spirit not to drink. By the afternoon, I was already telling myself that one glass of champagne wasn’t really drinking, trying to negotiate my way around the conviction I had already received.

Yet, I sat down with this friend at the bar that night and ordered my one glass of champagne. Then, when the rest of her family got there and we all sat down, I was offered a glass of wine. While my mind said no—to keep the promise I had already broken to myself—what came out of my mouth was yes. And I proceeded to take a sip.

In that moment, Jonathan Edwards’ words came to mind, and I felt my heart sink to the floor.

I had found this thing more beautiful than Christ.

In that moment, I made my confession, laid it all before Him, and have lived sober since that day.

After I got married, there was a short period where I felt my relationship with alcohol had changed and that it was safe to “enjoy” a drink without overconsumption or lack of self-control. But even in that, I felt like the beauty of the practice had been completely stripped away. If you ask me today, I still don’t see the point or how it adds any value or pleasure to an experience. There is truly no desire for me to partake.

A full deliverance.

Now, as I reflect back on that 8 years later, my only responsibility in it was a willing heart, a listening ear, and a yes.

I am not sober by my own doing, but by my surrender.

Honestly? Everything good in my life has come from an open heart and open hands to His giving and taking. Anything I cling to doesn’t serve me. In fact, it may be the exact thing inhibiting me from deeper peace and freedom.

And reflecting on this lesson 8 years later has reminded me of the new things I’ve been clinging to for comfort. The new beauties that have drifted my gaze from True Beauty. The things that have slowly been stealing my peace.

The temptation is always the same: to believe that I can be sovereign over the things that have been entrusted to me.

But I am not sovereign.

Whatever has been given has been given as a gift—for me to receive, to enjoy, and to steward, not to rule over. And the moment I try to take the place of the One who gave it, I lose the very peace I was trying to secure.

That day I gave up drinking alone is an excellent reminder of what happens when I try to have sovereignty over something: failure.

Ultimately, He has it. He is holding it.

And because He is holding it, I can surrender and receive.

Eight years ago, I learned this through a glass of wine.

Eight years later, I am learning it again through the things I am still tempted to hold.

Hopefully in eight more years I’ll have the testimony that I am finally living fully open handed.

Tata for now,

Amanda

We’ve been sold a lie. So much so that the happily ever after these days isn’t to get married, but to cohabitate and get a pet. Through fairy tales, happily ever afters, and rom-com dramas, we’ve been led to believe that marriage was a promise that led to a lifetime of happiness and bliss. And maybe you’re reading this and saying that you didn’t grow up watching those things because you had strict Christian parents who monitored it all. Well, even in the church, marriage is this sacred practice that is ultimately the “goal.” This secret club that you can only be part of when you’ve made your own vows and can morally talk about things reserved only for marriage.

Whether intentional or not, marriage had become the pinnacle of success and the key to a happy life. Happy wife, happy life, if ya know what I mean.

So of course, my whole life I dreamed of being married. I mean, marriage is where my dream of lots of babies could be fulfilled, and who doesn’t want someone to promise to love them forever? However, in my two years of singleness before marriage, the Lord revealed to me the truth about His heart for marriage. And while I thought I had understanding, or at least some preparation, as we come up on our 5-year wedding anniversary, I’ve been reflecting on how much deeper His truth runs and how the message of society fails you when it comes to having a successful marriage.

You can hear all the isms (marriage is to make you holy, not to make you happy; marriage is a covenant, not just a commitment; marriage magnifies what already lives in your heart), but until you’re in the thick of reality, those aren’t things that will challenge your paradigm or your heart.

Every marriage eventually reaches a point of disillusionment—likely many. It’s the moment when the gap between the marriage we imagined and the marriage we’re actually living becomes impossible to ignore. We can respond in countless ways: despair, pretending everything is fine, striving harder to fix it, believing that if only I were different or they were different, then everything would finally be okay. But what if that moment isn’t evidence that you married the wrong person, but an invitation to bring our broken expectations and aching hearts back to the One who loved us first? Marriage is one of the primary arenas where God graciously dismantles our idols so that we discover He was always the One our hearts were looking for.

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Looking back, I can see this was already beginning in my dating relationship with my husband. When conflict would arise and my avoidant-leaning self would contemplate a breakup, I always came back to one insight and one prayer: “I want to love him as You love him, Lord.”

What a bold thing to pray. And honestly, maybe even a little naive. Kind of like when you pray for more patience and instead of that capacity growing bigger, you’re placed in scenarios to increase your capacity by choice.

It’s a discipline, a muscle, that needs to be actively pursued, or it won’t go anywhere.

And what does loving like Christ mean? It means laying down my expectations of what I think marriage should look like. It means patience, humility, and grace for people who are broken. It means forgiveness toward the ones who crucify you. It means dining with and praying over people who are in rebellion, seeing them not only through the lens of how their brokenness affects us, but through the lens of how deeply God loves them and longs to restore them. Ultimately, it means accepting the reality of where people are without withholding love until they become who we wish they were. Christ met us at our darkest, not because darkness was good, but because His love was greater. His love meets us as we are, and from that place of being loved, He transforms us. Acceptance does not mean pretending sin is harmless or refusing truth; it means refusing to withhold love while God faithfully does His work of transformation.

Patient, kind, not envious, not boastful, not proud. Not dishonoring others, not self-seeking, not easily angered, not keeping records of wrongdoing. It does not delight in evil but rejoices in truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.

And in the face of marriage, where there are two broken people who are learning how to be married and how to love well (some willing, some not), that’s a very tall order.

But if our goal in this life is to look more like Christ, to share in His glory, and to become faithful image bearers, then I believe few relationships expose and shape our hearts quite like marriage. It is one of the ways God faithfully forms us into love.

This isn’t to say that marriage can’t be good or happy, or that if you’re married, you’re ultimately doomed to a lifetime of misery and hardship. More that hard or miserable doesn’t necessarily mean that the marriage isn’t right, but maybe it’s an invitation to fix our gaze back to the One whom our hearts truly belong to—the source of our joy, peace, strength, and hope. An invitation to die to another piece of ourselves that is hindering our freedom to love and be loved, rather than trying to create it in foundations that will crumble.

Let us lay down our dreams, our ideals, and our self-seeking tendencies. Whatever we are holding that has us holding onto or pursuing marriage with the wrong vision, let us return to the One who is our true Bridegroom. The true happily ever after of our lives is being with Him in eternity.

Tata for now,

Amanda

Our family is growing, and as I enter my third trimester, I’ve been slowing down in many areas of my life. I’ve finally surrendered to the fact that this space is one of them.

I think I’ve hesitated to share this pregnancy publicly because I’ve been enjoying the practice of privacy. But if I’m honest, I also think there has been a bit of pride in not wanting to seem limited. The irony is that these past several months have been teaching me exactly that—His power is made perfect in my weakness.

That doesn’t mean I’m stepping back completely. It simply means I’m releasing the pressure to have something to share every single week while I serve my household, care intentionally for my first, grow this baby, and quietly build something much bigger for this space that I hope to share with you soon.

My hope is to return to a more consistent rhythm when I have the capacity to do so. Until then, I’ll be gathering, writing, and creating behind the scenes, trusting that when the time is right, I’ll have so much more to share.

Tata for now,

Amanda

I was listening to a sermon a few weeks ago that was talking about how we are invited into the story of God, which overall is a great reminder to our naturally prideful selves that we don’t invite Him into a story that we create, but rather are invited to participate in the masterpiece of life written by the Author.

And I could write a whole piece on the convictions I have had on this before, some of which pertain to this: roads we attempt to pave ourselves will always be harder, rougher, and more impossible than the road made ready for us to go.

But perhaps we will leave that for another day.

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This time, what struck me (and none of this was said in the aforementioned sermon) was something else.

Most people are not remembered by the third generation. No matter how great or faithful. Most people live mundane lives without ever bringing acknowledgement of the public unto themselves. And I would say most people who are remembered did nothing in their lives specifically trying to leave something behind.

As I was reflecting on that, I immediately turned my attention to the Bible. These are the names we all remember, name our children after, and study relentlessly for our whole lives. The people God chose for us to learn from.

And I realized they were pretty insignificant too.

Ruth remained faithful

Mary said yes

The disciples left their net

None of them were trying to leave a legacy behind.

They were simply living their lives for God.

How easy is it to think greatly of ourselves or be determined to make an impact as a way to be remembered. How easy is it to place significance on someone else, believing they have something bigger or more.

Every day is simply being His. Letting Him lead and define, and trusting Him with a future that will more than likely be forgotten.

I used to think my greatest work would come when I had gained the wisdom He taught me and matured to a level where I could give back. Now I’m realizing that even if I were to achieve the dreams that are on my heart for “great” things—while maybe significant for the Kingdom—they are, overall, pretty insignificant in the grand scheme of life. Impact? Sure. Legendary? Probably never.

Even more so, if I were to never achieve those things or be led to build them—if I were to spend the rest of my life mothering, discipling, writing, worshipping, doing what most consider the mundane and insignificant things—it would leave the same thing behind.

A forgotten name over the spreadsheet of time.

So with that realization, my work is right in front of me, and that’s perfectly good enough.

We are insignificant.

And what a relief! Because the pressure to become someone was never mine to carry.

I’m just a nobody from nowhere, but the King? He loves me.

Tata for now,

Amanda

I am obsessed with this stuff.

Whenever I make a batch, I end up using it at least three times a day. I’ll stir a spoonful into scrambled eggs, spread it inside a wrap, drizzle it over steak or grilled chicken, toss it with roasted vegetables, or even mix it into rice or potatoes. It’s one of those recipes that instantly makes a simple meal taste elegant.

It also freezes beautifully, making it perfect for doubling or even tripling the recipe so you always have some on hand.

One of my favorite things about this chimichurri is that it’s not just flavorful—every ingredient brings its own nutritional benefits, making it as nourishing as it is delicious.

Why You’ll Love It

Each ingredient contributes something unique:

• Dandelion greens support liver function and provide vitamins A, C, and K along with minerals like potassium.

• Parsley is rich in vitamins C and K and is packed with antioxidants.

• Cilantro adds fresh flavor while providing antioxidants and beneficial plant compounds.

• Garlic contains allicin, a compound known for supporting immune and cardiovascular health.

• Shallots offer prebiotic fiber and antioxidants.

• Oregano is naturally rich in antioxidants and adds wonderful depth of flavor.

• Extra virgin olive oil provides heart-healthy monounsaturated fats and anti-inflammatory polyphenols.

• Lemon juice and vinegar brighten the flavor while adding a touch of acidity that helps preserve freshness.

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What you’ll need

Ingredients

• 2 heaping cups dandelion greens* (see note below)

• 2 heaping cups fresh parsley, stems included

• 1½ cups fresh cilantro, stems included

• 1 shallot

• 3 garlic cloves

• 2½ teaspoons dried oregano

• ½–1 teaspoon sea salt (to taste)

• ½ teaspoon black pepper

• ½ teaspoon red pepper flakes

• 3 tablespoons fresh lemon juice

• 2 tablespoons red wine vinegar (or apple cider vinegar)

• ¼ cup extra virgin olive oil

*If you can’t find dandelion greens, substitute arugula, baby kale, spinach, or simply use extra parsley. Each brings a slightly different flavor, but they’ll all make a delicious chimichurri.

Let’s Make It

Add all of the ingredients to a food processor or high-speed blender. Blend until you’ve reached your desired consistency—whether that’s slightly chunky or smooth and saucy.

Taste and adjust the salt, lemon juice, or vinegar as needed.

Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to a week, or freeze in small portions (ice cube trays work wonderfully!) for longer storage.

Please enjoy, on literally everything.

Tata for now,

Amanda

Welcome to the third installment in this journey of battling my coping mechanism of perfectionism. If you’re new to it, you can find part 1 and part 2 here.

The Lord has been revealing more and more to me lately—so rich, so deep, so good, and some of it so tender it’s hard to hold. But every time I enter in, I leave freer and lighter than when I walked in.

I hadn’t realized that I have been walking around with this fear of “becoming bad,” like I could be corrupted, and I was using holiness and perfectionism as protection against this fear.

I think I have been subconsciously fixated on the chasm between who I was before Jesus and who I have become in Him. It was truly in an instant that I was transformed. I remember falling to my knees and saying, “Okay Jesus, show me what You’ve got,” and physically feeling chains breaking from my wrists and ankles. My vision became brighter, my heart lighter, and that was it—I was His. My convictions were different, my passions changed; I had been found.

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Unfortunately, this passion and fire for the One I had been waiting for my whole life to rescue me was met with fellow believers telling me that the passion would fade, the honeymoon stage would end, and I would stumble—or even worse, return to Egypt.

I don’t know if their intentions were well-meaning or not, but what a strange way to greet a sister into the Kingdom: “Yeah, what you’re experiencing right now is great, but don’t hold your breath.”

Considering what I had been rescued from—a destitute life of misery, worldly pleasures that were never satiating, and an overall lingering feeling of worthlessness—this was a terrifying thought. What do you mean this freedom doesn’t last? What do you mean this fire will go out? I can’t lose this.

And that’s where it started: the feeling that I needed to prove I was worth saving, that I had to carry the responsibility of my salvation by always being good. That if I chased perfection, I would never be the old man again.

And you know what that led to, almost ten years into this new life? Weariness. Let me tell you—I love God more today than I did when those chains fell, and yet I have been carrying a responsibility that only God’s love, grace, and mercy can carry. I may not have returned to Egypt, but I had been enslaved by a fear that the work God did in an instant would somehow become undone.

Over the last ten years, I have been running away from who I used to be out of fear that it could somehow corrupt and consume what God had already washed away.

And in the process, I forgot who I am: His. I have been born again. I have a new life—set free, with a new name. “Your faith has saved you; go and sin no more.” That’s it. That’s the end of the story. I am His and He is mine.

And here is my claim: I am never going back.

Not because I need to prove something. Not because I am capable of perfection. But because the One who rescued me is faithful to keep me close and finish what He started.

And because life with Him has been far more beautiful than anything I ever tried to create for myself.

Tata for now,

Amanda

“Now I’m dancing on the grave that I once lived in”- Goodbye Yesterday (Elevation Rhythm)

So instead, here’s a quick and easy recipe that’s a hit with the whole family.

What I love about it is that it satisfies those pancake cravings without all the ingredients that can send your blood sugar on a roller coaster and leave you feeling moody or tired an hour later.

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What you need:

• 1 banana

• 2 eggs

How to make it:
Mash the banana in a bowl and whisk it together with the eggs. Fry in a pan like a pancake.

Over the years, I’ve adapted these a bit by adding ¼ cup cottage cheese and 1 teaspoon chia seeds for extra protein and fiber.

You can also add ½ scoop of protein powder and a heaping ¼ cup of oat flour for a more traditional pancake texture.

However you decide to whip these up, have your cakes and eat them too.

Tata for now,

Amanda

My daughter needed significant sleep support from what feels like the day she was born. In reality, it was probably a few weeks after, but the nights of walking in circles, bouncing, dancing, rocking, while we sang and she screamed are etched into my brain. Every nap. Every bedtime. When they’re little, that can be up to five times a day. By a year and a half, with the routine reduced to one nap and bedtime, that felt like a significant win.

But over the last week or so, I’ve been able to lie beside her, talk about the day, say a little prayer, and watch her fall asleep on her own.

And I am ecstatic.

Sure, my back isn’t breaking in half from fifteen minutes of rocking anymore, but it’s deeper than that. There’s not a single part of me that’s sad.

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I think the narrative around the less-than-ideal parts of motherhood is often, “You’ll miss it when it’s gone,” or, “They won’t be little forever, so enjoy it while you can.” So I was surprised to find that I didn’t feel even a shred of sadness that my baby no longer needed to be rocked.

As I sat with the “Is something wrong with me?” spiral, I realized I’ve already been grieving as she’s grown.

Every mom hits a point in that first year when she thinks she wants another baby, while simultaneously knowing it might be way too soon. When that happened to me around four or six months, I realized I didn’t actually want another baby. I missed this baby. Since then, I’ve tried to give myself space to recognize each age and stage and let my mama heart feel whatever it needs to feel.

At the same time, I’m far more excited to discover who she was created to be than I am concerned that she’s growing out of me.

The days of her being small and needing the sway of her mama to lull her to sleep were sweet. But now I get to watch her face light up as we talk about her favorite moments of the day. I get to discover what she finds funny, what she notices, what delights her, and what offends her.

Babyhood was about teaching her that I’m safe and available. Now we get to build relationship.

After all, that’s the reason we had children in the first place: to love them, know them, empower them, and watch them outgrow us in faith, confidence, adventure, and life.

I don’t want to keep her small and needy. I want to watch her flourish into a brave child and eventually blossom into a secure and heavenly woman.

The only way to do that is by giving her room to expand when she’s ready and encouraging her when she’s unsure she can. Not pushing her into independence before her time, but offering training wheels until she’s confident enough to take them off herself.

And I’m genuinely excited to root her on in the process.

The more I lean into this, the more I wonder if this is something of how God feels about me. As I learn new things, discover how He made me, and grow into the person He created me to be, He isn’t standing at the finish line waiting for results.

He’s with me.

Less concerned with outcomes and more delighted by the togetherness of the journey.

It has always been about the joy of relationship—a reminder of the One who loved us first.

Tata for now,

Amanda

This is one of those secret weapon recipes that sounds complicated but is truly so easy and so much better to make at home. Once you make fresh applesauce yourself, the store-bought version just doesn’t compare, besides time of course! But thankfully this doesn’t eat up your meter too much. The flavor is also richer, the texture is softer, and you control exactly what goes into it. No unnecessary sugars, preservatives, or additives. Just simple ingredients that make you feel good.

Fresh applesauce also retains more of the natural goodness found in apples themselves. Apples are rich in fiber, antioxidants, vitamin C, and one especially underrated compound: pectin.

Pectin is a type of soluble fiber naturally found in apples that acts almost like a gentle support system for the gut. It helps feed beneficial bacteria in the digestive tract, supports healthy bowel movements, and can even help bind to waste and toxins in the intestines so the body can eliminate them more effectively. Because pectin forms a gel-like consistency when cooked, it can also be soothing to an irritated digestive system, which is one reason applesauce is often recommended during illness or recovery.

Homemade applesauce can be especially supportive for gut health because it’s easy to digest while still providing nourishment. The cooking process softens the apples, making them gentler on the stomach, while the fiber continues to support digestion and microbial balance. Warm applesauce can feel deeply comforting for little ones, postpartum mothers, or anyone whose body needs simple, nourishing foods.

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What you’ll need

• 8–10 apples (a mix of sweet and tart works best)

• ½ cup water

• 1 tsp cinnamon (optional)

• Pinch of sea salt

• 1–2 tbsp maple syrup or honey (optional, depending on sweetness of apples)

Let’s make it

1. Wash, peel, core, and roughly chop the apples.

2. Add apples and water to a large pot or Dutch oven.

3. Cover and cook over medium-low heat for 20–30 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the apples are very soft.

4. Mash with a potato masher for chunky applesauce, or blend with an immersion blender for a smoother texture.

5. Stir in cinnamon, vanilla, salt, and sweetener if desired.

6. Let cool slightly before serving.

Storage

• Store in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 5 days.

• Freeze for up to 3 months.

Notes

• Sweeter apples like Fuji, Gala, or Honeycrisp may not need added sweetener.

• Tart apples like Granny Smith create a more balanced flavor when mixed with sweeter varieties.

• For extra nourishment, serve warm with collagen, chia seeds, or alongside breakfast foods like eggs or oatmeal.

A pot of simmering apples on the stove turns into something that tastes comforting, supports the body well, and reminds us that some of the best foods really are the simplest ones. Not to mention, it makes the home smell delightful.

Tata for now,

Amanda

However, anyone who knows me knows bread is a joy of mine (I mean, duh, I am a woman), but baking it especially brings a peace to my spirit I cannot describe, not to mention an outlet for creativity.

I’ve made sourdough loaves ranging from cinnamon raisin croissant, blueberry lemon cream cheese, to rosemary olive, garlic focaccia, and my all time favorite: jalapeño cheddar.

It’s the best type of experiment with the best outcome, and really, bread cannot fail because 9/10 times it’s still edible when you do. It really is my perfect hobby.

So naturally, I put this inkling on the back burner, chalking it up to a “crunchy” lifestyle conviction, and decided I wasn’t going to live my life with anxiety over every “better” thing. Basically: I’m gonna keep eating my bread, and my family had no objections.

Recently, my husband started meeting with a naturopath to get some labs done because he’s been having gut irritation for the past year. Since he has a family history of chronic gut health issues, he decided it would be good to keep an eye on things. So when his labs came back, he was in perfect health, except for one thing.

He tested positive for celiac.

And then I put a couple pieces together: one year ago I got that little inkling to go gluten free, and one year ago my husband began having gut issues.

So I sat with that a little longer.

In that moment, I realized the Lord was inviting me into something deeper—what it looks like to be a steward over my household. And I started to wonder if it wasn’t just an inkling at all, but a subtle nudge from the Holy Spirit on how to nourish my family for health, not just some crunchy conspiracy, but a lifestyle that actually protects my family on a metabolic level.

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This opened my eyes to a new way of relating to God. Instead of shrugging off what can feel like random ideas that pop up in my mind, I’ve started asking if, when it comes with a peaceful presence, it might actually be an invitation. A moment to press in instead of explain or push away.

And I think part of what I’m realizing is that I often expect the Lord’s leading to feel like a burning bush moment, something obvious, something unmistakable, or at least a moment where I slow everything down, get still enough, and hear Him “clearly,” so I can be sure it’s not just me.

But since starting our family, those long, quiet spaces don’t really happen the same way anymore. And yet, I feel like He’s been teaching me how to recognize His voice in the middle of the noise—how His leadership often feels like settled peace, rather than a thought spiral that keeps running.

It’s learning that I can still be still and know Him even while I’m actively stewarding what’s in front of me. That I’m being invited into conversation, conviction, refinement, and guidance throughout the day, but I have to notice it.

And I’m grateful I don’t need a perfect, quiet setup in order to hear Him. These have become small reminders that I am His and He is mine.

I’m learning that the Lord often speaks more like a quiet whisper after the chaos, like He did with Elijah, rather than in burning bush moments that interrupt everything at once.

And as life ebbs and flows in busyness, I’m grateful to learn the gentle whispers of guidance that continue to lead me forward, one step at a time.

Tata for now,

Amanda

Reflection Questions:

• What quiet thought or conviction have I been continually pushing aside that might actually be an invitation into deeper stewardship?

• Do I expect God to only speak in dramatic, unmistakable moments, or do I believe He also leads through subtle peace and gentle nudges?

• Where in my life am I sensing resistance to surrender because I keep trying to rationalize, delay, or explain it away?

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If I decide to make this for the whole family, I usually bake it in a 9x13 pan, but if it’s just for my toddler I’ll do an 8x8 or 9x9. These can also be baked in individual portions in a muffin pan. Either way, it lasts about 7–10 days.

What you’ll need

For an 8x8 pan (serves 4–6)

• 8 large chicken eggs

• 1 lb breakfast sausage

• 2 cups fresh spinach, chopped

• 1 cup shredded cheese

  • cheddar, mozzarella, gouda, or pepper jack all work well

• 1/2 cup sour cream

• 1/2 tsp garlic powder

• 1/2 tsp onion powder

• 1/2 tsp salt

• 1/4 tsp black pepper

9x13 Version (serves 8–10)

Ingredients

• 14 large chicken eggs

• 2 lbs breakfast sausage

• 4 cups fresh spinach, chopped

• 2 cups shredded cheese

• 1 cup sour cream

• 1 tsp garlic powder

• 1 tsp onion powder

• 1 tsp salt

• 1/2 tsp black pepper

Dairy-Free Replacements

Instead of sour cream, use: unsweetened dairy-free yogurt, dairy-free sour cream, full-fat coconut cream

Instead of shredded cheese, use: dairy-free shredded cheese or omit entirely for a more frittata-style bake

Instructions

1. Preheat oven to 375°F.

2. Grease your baking dish well.

3. Brown the sausage in a skillet over medium heat until fully cooked. Drain excess grease if needed.

4. Add spinach and cook for 1–2 minutes until wilted.

5. In a large bowl, whisk together eggs, sour cream, seasonings, and cheese.

6. Fold in the sausage and spinach mixture.

7. Pour into prepared baking dish.

Bake Times

• 8x8 pan: 35–40 minutes

• 9x13 pan: 40–50 minutes

Bake until the center is set and the top is lightly golden.

Let rest 5–10 minutes before slicing.

Optional Add-Ins

• diced bell peppers

• mushrooms

• caramelized onions

• green chiles

• fresh herbs

• cooked potatoes or hash browns

Store covered in the refrigerator. Reheat individual slices in the oven or microwave. This casserole also freezes well after baking.

Make it personal, make it you. However you bake it, breakfast will be accounted for.

As always, I hope you enjoy.

Stay nourished, stay satisfied.

Tata for now,

Amanda

Egg Cup Variation (Muffin Tin Option)

This recipe can also be made as individual egg cups, which are perfect for grab-and-go breakfasts, postpartum meals, or meal prep.

How to adapt:

• Preheat oven to 375°F

• Grease a standard 12-cup muffin tin very well (or use silicone liners)

• Divide the sausage and spinach mixture evenly between the cups

• Pour the egg mixture over the top, filling each cup about 3/4 full

• Stir gently in each cup if you want the fillings evenly distributed

Bake time:

• 18–25 minutes, depending on your oven

• Eggs should be fully set and slightly golden on top

Let cool for 5 minutes before removing from the pan.

Sit with me for a moment. Imagine you’re standing at the edge of a lake. The landscape is peaceful, and you’re enjoying the stillness. You look down, notice a rock at your feet, and toss it into the middle of the water.

Plop.

The rock sinks quietly, and ripples begin to spread outward. Eventually, those ripples reach the shore, brushing against your feet long after the hand that released the rock has nuzzled itself back to its pocket for warmth. The rock never sees the ripples it leaves behind.

Motherhood has taught me that formation works the same way. Most of what shapes a life happens through daily, ordinary acts of presence that feel too small to matter in the moment.

The same is true of discipleship. We are not the ones producing growth; we are daily shepherds of the people God is forming. The ripples we set in motion are the aftershocks of obedience, moving outward long after the moment has passed. We are messengers and missionaries, not manufacturers of growth.

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Much of motherhood feels anticlimactic. I remember feeling unfulfilled at times, not because I was seeking satisfaction, but because I imagined raising littles would have more of that “oomph” factor in purpose. There are no visible markers to tell you whether today’s faithfulness mattered, whether a correction landed, a comfort healed, or a need was met enough to shape our child’s heart.

The days are repetitive: saying no to the same thing, answering the same question, offering food over and over. And yet, we show up anyway, day after day to do the same things. Even in moments that feel invisible, or even useless, we are participating in a work we cannot yet see.

It is often in these dry, ordinary spaces that God does His deepest work. They are the threshing floor for our own hearts and the place where we learn to trust Him with the growth of our children. The shaping of hearts is slow, painful, and often too small to notice in a moment.

This rhythm carries into discipleship and shepherding. Walking with others in faith often looks less like leading and more like staying, answering the same questions again, gently reminding them of wisdom, and being the guardrails on the narrow path rather than the one at the front. Presence matters more than instruction. Consistency matters more than immediate results. Obedience matters more than perfection.

It’s easy to want to rush growth. We do it in our own lives, for our children, and for those we disciple. Watching someone wrestle with faith, make mistakes, or experience suffering is uncomfortable. We are tempted to intervene too quickly, to fix what we are meant to witness, to manufacture outcomes because slowness confronts our desire for control and our discomfort with pain.

Control is tempting, it promises certainty, the illusion of protection, and makes us feel responsible rather than helpless. This temptation is old; it was the reason Eve ate the fruit in the garden. We imagine it would be easier to take charge than to be used by God. In motherhood, this might look like stepping in before a child is ready to handle a challenge or over-correcting mistakes. In spiritual companionship, it might be giving advice too early or shielding someone from consequences that could teach them deeper wisdom.

Likewise, lingering in suffering is costly, and our hearts seek to avoid it. Watching someone navigate the slow, sometimes painful path of faith is hard. But being a shepherd requires presence in the tension without prematurely solving it. When we try to shortcut the process, we risk shallow growth and we miss the opportunity to trust God’s timing.

So the question is not whether growth should happen, but who we trust with it and what posture is required of us while we wait. Formation is not ours to produce; it is ours to steward faithfully, patiently, and lovingly.

Manufacturers measure success by outcomes. Messengers measure faithfulness by obedience. The first produces anxiety; the second produces rest. When growth belongs to God, our role becomes lighter. We show up, speak truth, offer presence, and trust that what we release will move farther than we can see.

The freedom of this role is profound. When growth is no longer ours to manufacture, we are freed to love without pressure, to remain present without panic, and to trust that God is at work beyond what we can see. Our hands release the rock, and God determines how far the ripples reach.

Tata for now,

Amanda

This piece was originally published through Wholly Surrender, a ministry creating accessible resources that encourage women in Christ toward deeper trust, willingness, and vulnerability before the Lord. You can find more of their work on their website: here.

This was my on repeat recipe when I was pregnant with my daughter. It basically had to stay stocked in the freezer at all times.

While this recipe is definitely easier with an ice cream maker, the first time I made it I poured everything into a Ziplock bag, put the bag into a bowl of ice and rock salt, and shook it for about 20 minutes until it looked like ice cream. So really, it’s all a matter of your level of desperation and well, pregnancy takes you places sometimes.

What I love about this recipe is how simple it is. Just 5 ingredients, and honestly? Better than any store-bought version I’ve tried. It’s also super easy to make dairy-free if needed. Whatever you fancy, add this one to your list.

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What you’ll need:

• 2 cups semi-frozen strawberries

• 1–2 tsp vanilla extract

• 1½ cups heavy cream

• ⅔ cup honey

• ¾ cup whole milk

• Pinch of salt

Dairy-free version:

• Swap the heavy cream for full-fat canned coconut milk or coconut cream

• Swap the whole milk for your favorite non-dairy milk (oat and cashew are my favorites for this)

Let’s make it:

• Blend the strawberries until smooth.

• In a separate bowl, whisk together the remaining ingredients.

• Fold in the strawberries.

• Chill in the fridge for 1 hour.

• Pour into an ice cream maker, popsicle molds… or honestly just drink it like strawberry milk. No judgment here.

A treat for the whole family, or to hoard for yourself while no one is watching.

However you choose to enjoy it I know you’ll be screaming for more.

Tata for now,

Amanda

Then, by God’s grace, I came across a Substack that was able to not only acknowledge this tension but opened my eyes to where it comes from. This is my reflection of that written piece. Read it here. (Warning, it is full of sarcasm and some language)

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So here is what I learned:

Social media is insidious. Something you think you’re sitting and innocently consuming—but that’s just it: consumption. Whatever is being sold, we are feasting on. Ideas, propaganda, literal ads—they have a way of creeping up and inside you that can almost go undetectable. The easiest example of this is news, gossip, and politics. It’s a Saturday, you’ve just gotten home from a fun activity and decide to flip on the news. Then, over the course of maybe 15–45 min, there’s a weird bitterness, anger, or even uproar going on inside of you. What was an innocent seeking of a world update has now torn up your afternoon.

And while a lot of what I have been wrestling with I believe comes from some form of the lie millennials were fed—“do what makes you happy,” “let your career fulfill you,” “if it doesn’t bring you joy then it’s not for you”—that has caused countless adults to career hop, college major hop, and spiral into “who am I, really?” I truly did not anticipate this idea to bleed into motherhood and echo into various spaces of narratives told by society.

The idea being “I must do what fulfills me to be a good mom” or even sneakier “if I don’t enjoy my children, I should have never had them.”

It’s easy to find. 20 minutes scrolling online, you see moms building a life for themselves with their children in the background. And yes, I am not seeing the full story, just a 60 second clip on the internet—but that’s the point. All I am seeing is the narrative of “build a life for yourself and then be a mom.” And a quick glance in the comments shows a plethora of other women cheering this mom on or boasting of their own thing. And all of a sudden, the mom who delights in her children and her identity as a mom has sold herself out or is secretly miserable. And that narrative is easy to find too, because you have a whole other plethora of women in the comments dripping in regret of ever having children because they simply “aren’t happy” or it “took too much away.”

So now there are these two narratives being sold: either live for myself first or be miserable as a mom. And the sad part is? I almost began to fall for it.

The concept of the only way I can enjoy motherhood or have it be fulfilling is if I fight for who I was before I became a mom. The things that were fun for that girl, the things that brought that girl peace—how do I fight for or fit in the things that girl did? But I discovered that the difficulty was actually coming from this: if I was constantly fighting for who I was, then how could I ever evolve into who I am supposed to become?

That’s where I found the tension.

And once I identified the lie that was subtly trying to tell me how to measure my life, I couldn’t help but push back on it.

Who is to say that losing myself in motherhood can’t be fulfilling? Who is to say that staying home and raising the next generation with intention isn’t big enough? How is it not? At one point in history it was considered the most important. Generations after generations of less noise and living for a unit bigger than yourself. And somewhere along the way it got lost, traded, replaced.

With what? Temporary pleasures that cost all the dimes in your hard earned bank account? For what purpose besides consumerism? “Consume all you can before you die or you’ve lived a shallow life.” Or on the flip side: “produce all you can before you die so you have something to show for yourself.”

We’ve all become pleasure-seeking workaholics that have lost the meaning of rest and presence.

Kids force you to sacrifice, surrender, and slow down—and maybe that’s the point, the gift, the calling.

They are the one thing that forces us out of our self-obsessed bubbles long enough to realize we aren’t as cool or capable as we think we are. And you know what that means?

We need a Savior.

So I’m done buying into the lie that I need to have “me” time in order to be a good mom. I can recharge in the quick prayer before my day starts, laying in the sun while my daughter draws with chalk, going for a walk while listening to that audiobook, listening to worship as I make us breakfast, writing during a nap, or even napping myself. Whatever pockets I have throughout my day—I’m not as limited as the internet wants me to believe. And in all honesty, if I eliminated the internet, that’s even more time I have for those pockets to receive His grace.

Motherhood is the point. If it wasn’t, why would so many of us crave it so badly? Just to fight for the “old” once we’ve received it? Don’t let the enemy come and steal, kill, and destroy the answered prayer because it was harder than we thought and made us feel the weight of our weakness. It is in Him that we have strength, so praise even more so in the weakness.

And you know what? This isn’t new—it’s just matured. It’s all still that lie of autonomy. That joy will come if and when I can live for myself. That grasp is still a temptation, and we have more and more resources to eat of the fruit.

But the truth is different. Kingdom reality says:

Those who lose their life will find it.

This is living and I choose to delight in the gift.

And here’s a secret: I have really hard days where I’m dripping in exhaustion wondering why I wasted my younger more resilient years on things that didn’t matter, all whilst dreaming of a time where silence is a discipline I can practice again, to a moment later where tears are ready to roll down my face because I cannot wait to add more to our family and get even more lost in the chaos of it all.

Because watching them grow and discover the small pleasures in life—and later the pleasures that hold real value—truly witnessing a person becoming who they are—is the greatest gift we could ever receive and worth more than any earthly pleasures for myself.

Tata for now,

Amanda

Reflection Questions:

• What narratives about motherhood (or a “good life”) have I unknowingly taken in, and where did they come from?

• Where do I feel the tension between what I’ve been told will fulfill me and what actually brings me peace in my real, everyday life?

• If I stopped measuring my life by “more” and trusted the life I’ve been given, what might I begin to notice, receive or reclaim?

Homemade broth.

Broths and soups were among the earliest cooked foods humanity relied on. Before the first vessels were formed, cultures used what they had—skulls, hides, even animal stomachs—dropping in hot stones to heat water and slowly extract nourishment from bones, meat, and plants.

But what makes it so good?

I’m glad you asked.

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When you simmer bones over hours (or even days), the very structure of the animal begins to break down into the liquid. Collagen transforms into gelatin, connective tissue releases amino acids, and minerals slowly dissolve into a form your body can actually use.

And here’s the beauty of it, our bodies are built from many of these same components.

Gelatin contains amino acids like glycine and proline, which support your connective tissue: joints, ligaments, skin, and even the lining of your gut. Instead of supplementing isolated nutrients, broth offers them in a whole, bioavailable, and easily digestible form.

It’s also uniquely supportive to digestion. Rather than taxing the body, broth frees up energy for repair because the nutrients are gentle and easy to absorb. This is why it has historically been given to the sick, postpartum mothers, and those recovering from any type of mineral depletion.

Studies on collagen and gelatin suggest support for joint health and skin elasticity. Glycine (one of the most abundant amino acids in broth) has been studied for its role in promoting better sleep, calming the nervous system, and supporting detoxification pathways in the liver.

There’s also growing interest in how gelatin may help support the gut lining, tying into broader conversations around intestinal permeability (often referred to as “leaky gut”). While broth isn’t a cure-all, its components align with how the body naturally repairs and restores tissue.

And then there’s the minerals—calcium, magnesium, phosphorus. Present in small amounts, but delivered in a bioavailable form that the body can gently receive, especially when digestion is compromised.

One last noteworthy mention is that it takes us back to intentional cooking. Where we don’t rely on convenience to nourish our bodies but the simple practice of a food that requires patience and gives back stability.

Fermented foods, slow-cooked meals, properly prepared grains, these are the practices we’ve largely lost, yet they are the very ones that bring stability and healing back to the body.

So enjoy this simply.
Sip it warm in the morning.
Use it as a base for soups.

Cheers to ancient wisdom and the return of what was never meant to be lost.

What you need for broth at home

• Soup bones (marrow bones, knuckles, joints, feet—anything rich in cartilage)

• Meaty bones (short ribs, oxtail, shank, neck bones)

• Carrots

• Celery

• Onion

• Whole black peppercorns

• Bay leaves

• (Optional: splash of apple cider vinegar to help draw out minerals)

Add everything to a large pot, cover with water, and bring to a boil.
Skim off any foam, then reduce to a gentle simmer.

Let it cook low and slow for anywhere from 5–24 hours.

You’ll notice the water level drop as it simmers—be sure to keep an eye on it and add more as needed.

Strain, cool, and store.

Tata for now,

Amanda

I’ve been doing a “Bible in a year” reading plan, and full confession, I’ve definitely skipped some days. But there’s one verse that’s been sticking with me for the past few weeks.

It’s in 1 Samuel 3

A quick summary:

Samuel is with Eli at this point, but he hasn’t heard from the Lord yet. Eli has let his two sons run wild, wreaking havoc with a multitude of sins. One night, Samuel hears a voice calling his name and runs to Eli, asking what he wants. This happens three times. Finally, Eli realizes the Lord is speaking to Samuel and instructs him: next time, respond, “Your servant is listening.”

When it happens again, Samuel responds. The Lord then tells him, in detail, how He will destroy the house of Eli because of Eli’s passivity with his sons. The next morning, Eli asks Samuel what the Lord said. Samuel hesitates, trying to soften it, but Eli insists on the full truth.

Now that we’re caught up, here’s the verse:

1 Samuel 3:18 NKJV (emphasis mine):

“Then Samuel told him everything, and hid nothing from him. And he said, ‘It is the Lord. Let Him do what seems good to Him.’”

That blew open a new paradigm.

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You see, before this, I have been wrestling with what I’m going to call “Kingdom reality” versus reality. The “whatever is lovely, true, good, honorable” versus the ugly that’s clearly right in front of me. How can I hold both when one is clearly bad and one is clearly good (or so it seems) and we aren’t guaranteed one over the other?

Then I remembered the garden. That’s where this confusion began. Eve, in that moment, chose to define good and evil for herself by eating from the tree of knowledge, rather than trusting God’s definition. She chose autonomy, and suddenly, everything that was good in God’s eyes (clearly defined in the first two chapters) was now tainted, fear-producing, and “bad.”

Back to 1 Samuel: I don’t know about you, but if it were me hearing a prophecy about the demise of my whole family because of my reckless parenting, I’d call that bad. Devastating. Maybe, if I dare to admit it, even cruel.

But Eli’s response taught me something about surrender and humility.

“Let Him”

No cry for mercy. No desperate plea for rescue. No tearing of clothes, no frantic prayer trying to sway the heart of the Ruler of everything.

Instead, it was permission. Permission for the One who defines everything to do what is necessary—full submission to He who knows best.

Eli’s response shows humble surrender, but also deep trust. He recognizes that God’s justice is righteous. He understands the outcome is deserved. God alone determines what is truly right.

“Do what seems good to Him”

Letting Him define good even when it seems bad to us.

Let me tell you something: I’ve struggled with anxiety since I was three or four. Medicated at six, off by eighteen, self-medicating until just before my twenty-fourth birthday—and since then, God has been working on my sober, easily anxious heart.

If I’ve learned one thing about anxiety, it’s this: it’s a lie of I think I can control it. Really, it’s me death-gripping things I don’t have control over, trying to convince myself I do. After wrestling with these Kingdom realities, I see that, in a way, my anxiety comes from reaching for autonomy—trying to decide what is good and what is bad—and landing in despair when reality doesn’t match my decision.

Now let me be clear, the anxiety I feel isn’t the problem itself, it’s the heart reaching for control that belongs to God. Scripture calls us to trust, not to occupy His throne of judgment.

But what if I took this “knowledge” I’ve been clinging to and gave it back to Him? What if I trusted that whatever is happening may not feel good by my definition, but is necessary for His purpose?

Maybe then I could finally let go of the weight I’ve been carrying, trying to strong-arm the One who knows everything, and finally rest in His Lordship.

Because reality is, God is good. Always. That means I have a good King. So even if circumstances seem cruel, His goodness is never in question. We are told that suffering is a consequence of the sin in this world, and we are also told that it’s a temporary place. And we are promised, guaranteed even, that He will redeem it and use it for His purpose. Whether we see that in our lifetime or not.

So in that, do I add another hour to my life by worrying? Nope, in fact I’m letting it steal it and if we know anything, only the enemy comes to steal things from us.

Man, there’s nothing like one sentence of Scripture to reveal the areas where you’re still not submitted. What a gut punch.

ANYWAYS

LORD, give me an “even if” faith.

Where EVEN IF the worst outcome I can imagine happens, I can trust it will be for Your glory. Give me hope that cruelty is not in Your nature, but a consequence of a sinful world we temporarily live in.

May I step off the throne and humbly return to my rightful place—kneeling before it. You are the Lord. May You do what seems good to You.

Amen.

Tata for now,

Amanda

Reflection Prayer Prompts:

• Lord, where have I labeled something as bad that You are calling good?

• Lord, what am I resisting that You are using for my good?

• Lord, what would it look like to say, “Let Him do what seems good to Him,” here?

We have officially entered that stage of toddlerhood where we are realizing that some foods taste and feel better than others. Chicken sausage and eggs? No no no, apple cinnamon oatmeal only now and forever. How these little people think it’s okay to survive only on carbs and fruit is beyond me, but at the same time that would be the life.

I found an excellent source of instant oatmeal that is organic, glyphosate free, and even has 10 g of protein per serving (One Degree, Farmers We Know Instant Oatmeal). And the keyword there was instant. Because at 6:30AM there is no way Jose those babes are going to wait 15 min for a bowl of grub.

However, I started thinking, how can I replicate the desire for this meal but with less sugar and less dollars out of my bank account? Buying 4 boxes of instant oatmeal a month just was not appealing to me.

That is how this oat bake was inspired. Naturally sweetened, 7-10 g of protein per square, and has every toddlers kryptonite: blueberries. So far it has been a hit and is requested more than the sugary alternative. And honestly, it’s a great snack for moms in the middle of the day craze.

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What You’ll Need:

• 1 cup rolled oats

• 6 tbsp collagen peptides (I use Vital Proteins)

  • check recipe notes for protein powder swap adjustments

• 1 cup Greek yogurt

• 1 cup whole milk (or milk alternatives)

• 2 eggs

• 1 ripe banana, mashed

• 1 tsp vanilla

• 1 tsp baking powder

• ½ tsp cinnamon

• pinch salt

• 1 cup blueberries

• 1 tbsp melted butter or ghee (or coconut oil)

• 1–2 tbsp maple syrup (truly optional)

Let’s Make It:

1. Heat oven to 350°F.

2. In a large bowl whisk:

   • eggs

   • mashed banana

   • yogurt

   • milk

   • collagen

   • vanilla

   • butter

3. Stir in oats, baking powder, cinnamon, and salt.

4. Fold in blueberries.

5. Let the mixture sit 5–10 minutes so the oats absorb liquid.

6. Pour into a greased 8×8 pan.

7. Bake 35–40 minutes until the center is set.

Cool about 10 minutes before cutting.

If Subbing Other Protein Powders

1. Whey Protein

• Use 2 scoops (~40–50g protein)

• Add 2–4 tbsp extra milk

Why: Whey absorbs liquid and can bake up dry or spongy if you don’t add moisture.

2. Plant Based Protein

• Use 2 scoops

• Add 3–5 tbsp extra milk + 1–2 tbsp yogurt

Why: These are the most absorbent and can turn chalky or dense without extra moisture.

3. Casein Protein

• Use 1½–2 scoops

• Add 2–3 tbsp milk

Why: Casein thickens a lot (almost pudding-like), so you don’t need quite as much.

This usually lasts me a little over a week (unless my husband is sneaking squares), and it’s become such a fun activity to bake with my toddler.

Whoever you decide to make this for, enjoy it fully.

Tata for now,

Amanda

I had hoped to have grown past this, to the point of not needing to revisit it at all. But I’m grateful, because it’s clear the Lord is still working something out in my heart, something deeper about my identity as His daughter.

I definitely started off as the prodigal. I came to know the Lord later in life, after a long season of debauchery and not recognizing what I had been offered. I came home looking for something, or rather, Someone, and I was welcomed with open arms.

But like the prodigal son, who said it would be better to be a servant in his father’s house than to continue in misery and sin (paraphrased), I realize now that I, too, came home with that same mentality.

And recently, I felt the Lord gently challenge me: I have welcomed you as a daughter, yet you come to Me as a servant.

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Now, we are called bondservants of Christ, but a bondservant is very different from a slave. A bondservant chooses to stay. And in that choosing, they are marked as belonging to the household. The master then becomes responsible to care for them, closely and personally.

What I’ve been missing is this: being part of His household.

I’ve been living as though this is something I could lose at any moment, while God has been reminding me that I have been adopted that it has been sealed, nothing can separate me from Him. And lately, I sense He’s been showing me something more: that I have made my choice as well.

I chose to come home.

And I am choosing to stay.

In that sense, I have claimed my place in His household not as a slave in debt, but as one who belongs to Him. I have been marked as His own. Adopted. Brought in fully.

The irony of all of this is that three years into my walk with Him, I got a tattoo marking me as His—at first to remind me, before I was getting married, who I belonged to.

And yet, even with that visible reminder, I can see now how easily my heart still drifts into striving, into relating to Him as though I must earn my place, rather than rest in the fact that I already have it.

I am not a slave trying to repay something I owe.

I am a daughter of the one true King.

So what does that mean for me? What does it look like to be a king’s daughter?

She is protected. She is delighted in. She is welcomed. She carries an inheritance.

The last time I reflected on this story, the question I asked was: What would my life look like if I lived as though He had been there all along?

But now, a new question rises:

What would my life look like if I lived as a received daughter, rather than an indebted—though grateful—servant?

The only answer that comes to mind is peace.

A peace that fills me to the brim.

A place of belonging, where I am understood, received as I am, delighted in, and wholly loved.

A place where I can finally rest.

Where I can lean back into the arms of my Father.

O Lord, may this wrestling heart receive in full.

Tata for now,

Amanda

This little number quickly made its way onto our regular dinner list after I threw it together on a busy day when we needed something quick. I had been craving shrimp, maybe to spice things up, or maybe my body was simply asking for all the nourishment shrimp has to offer. Whatever the reason, this dish more than satisfied the craving and has become an easy repeat in our home. The best part is, it’s the marinade is pretty delish on anything so I can double the batch and meal prep lunches and dinners.

You know me, and if you don’t, welcome. Simple, quick and nourishing are a few of my favorite things.

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What You’ll Need:

Garlic Jalapeño Marinade

• 1.5 lb wild caught shrimp, peeled, deveined tails off or on

• 4 tablespoons butter (I like to use ghee for my lactose free friends)

• 4–6 garlic cloves, finely chopped or minced

• 2 jalapeños, seeded and chopped

• 1 tablespoon honey (2 if you want it a tinge sweeter)

• Juice of 1 lime

• Juice of 1 lemon

• Salt and freshly ground black pepper, to taste

• Pinch of red pepper flakes or chili flakes (for extra heat)

• Chopped cilantro (optional)

Arugula Slaw

• A couple handfuls of arugula

• drizzle of olive oil

• juice of 1 lime (half for less tang)

• pinch of salt

Avocado

• 1/4-1/2 Avocado, cubed

• little lime juice

Noodles

• 1 packet of ramen noodles (I like the brown rice & millet from Lotus Foods)

Let’s Make It:

1. Cook the Noodles

   According to the package, it usually takes about 4 minutes.

2. Cook the shrimp
   Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat. Add the garlic and jalapeños and cook for about 30 seconds until fragrant.

3. Add the shrimp
   Add the shrimp to the skillet and cook for about 2 minutes per side, until pink and just cooked through.

4. Make the sauce
   Stir in the honey, lime juice, lemon juice, and a pinch of red pepper flakes. Season with salt and pepper. Let everything cook together for another minute so the sauce slightly thickens and coats the shrimp.

5. Finish the shrimp
   Remove the skillet from the heat and stir in the chopped cilantro if using.

6. Prepare the toppings
   Toss the arugula lightly with a drizzle of olive oil, a squeeze of lime, and a pinch of salt. Toss the cubed avocado with a little lime juice and salt.

7. Assemble the bowls
   Divide the noodles between bowls. Spoon the shrimp and sauce over the noodles. Top with the dressed arugula and cubed avocado.

8. Serve
   Finish with extra cilantro, lime wedges, or additional red pepper flakes if you like a little more heat.

Why It Works

This meal may be simple, but each ingredient brings something nourishing to the body.

• Shrimp are an excellent source of protein. They are also rich in important minerals like iodine and selenium that support thyroid function and metabolism. Shrimp also provide vitamin B12 and antioxidants like astaxanthin that help support energy and protect cells from oxidative stress.

• Garlic has long been valued both for flavor and its medicinal qualities. It contains sulfur compounds like allicin that support immune function, circulation, and the body’s natural detoxification processes. Garlic also helps support healthy inflammation levels and cardiovascular health.

• Jalapeños add more than just flavor. They contain vitamin C and plant compounds like capsaicin that can support circulation, metabolism, and digestive health. Even a mild pepper helps stimulate digestion.

• Avocado provides nourishing monounsaturated fats that support brain health, hormone production, and steady energy. These healthy fats also help the body absorb fat soluble vitamins from the rest of the meal. Avocados are also rich in potassium and fiber, supporting heart health and digestion.

• Arugula is a nutrient-dense leafy green that provides vitamins A, C, and K along with folate and beneficial plant compounds. Like many bitter greens, it helps stimulate digestion and supports the body’s natural detoxification pathways while adding a fresh peppery balance to the dish.

Together these ingredients are super nourishing and super yummy.

Recipe Notes:

Make it with chicken:
If you don’t have shrimp on hand, this dish works beautifully with chicken. Substitute 1 lb boneless chicken breast or thighs cut into bite-sized pieces. Cook the chicken in the butter until golden and cooked through before adding the garlic, jalapeños, honey, and citrus.

Make it vegetarian:
For a vegetarian option, replace the shrimp with thick slices of portobello mushrooms. Sauté them in butter or olive oil over medium-high heat until they release their moisture and become golden and tender. Then add the garlic, jalapeños, honey, and citrus and continue the recipe as written. The mushrooms soak up the sauce beautifully and bring a rich, savory note to the whole thing.

For added plant-based protein, this version can also be served over a bed of warm lentils instead of noodles, which deliciously soak up that wonderful sauce.

Whatever your reason for seeking out this dish, I hope it satisfies you as deeply as it did me.

Tata for now,

Amanda

Lately the Lord has been working on shifting my perspective. I have this part of me that I like to call “doomsday,” because she really likes to get caught up in all the negative and hard, anticipating the worst, cowering at chaos, a real woe-is-me kind of character.

The problem is, when this part is loudest, I miss out on, “Surely Your goodness and love will follow me all the days of my life” (Psalm 23).

So I’ve been practicing gratitude, not to ignore what’s hard, but to recenter myself on whatever is true, lovely, and right, and to see my life through His grace.

Then the other night, I had a pretty radical breakthrough. It was the end of a long day. My husband and I had just gotten into bed, and I did my usual check-in with God while snuggling my spouse (big cuddle house over here). What stirred up in me was simple:

What a rich life.

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By no means are we living in luxury, and our life is not without its own struggles, but I suddenly saw what mattered in light of eternity.

First and foremost, I am a sinner saved by grace. I have a Savior. He saw me and scooped me up at my darkest and lowest points, and called me loved. I owe Him everything, yet all He asks of me is relationship. He owes me nothing, and yet He continues to give good gifts freely.

Nothing I have I deserve. If it were up to me, my life would be a fully dysfunctional mess. I have a partner I thoroughly enjoy, and our biggest messes are honestly just the baggage we brought in being worked out. I have a house over my head that isn’t a burden to pay for. I am blessed with children and friends. I don’t have to work outside the home to live the life we do.

And in the grand scheme of things—in what I actually bring with me into heaven—it’s none of these things. All of these gifts are tiny, albeit huge, luxuries given to me by my Father to make my time here just a little sweeter.

It’s hard to complain or get trapped in a bitterness-doomsday cycle when I hold it like that.

How privileged am I? Truly and deeply.

Lord, the depth of Your grace—it baffles me.

Tata for now,

Amanda