Our Maternity Photo Shoot!

Our dear friend Lyndsey took these photos for us when I was just about 34 weeks pregnant. I feel so immensely blessed to have gotten some intentional maternity photos, because the past 8 months have been so full of upheaval and change and moves and tiiiiight budgets that I knew I wouldn't be able to hire a professional photographer and pay hundreds of dollars for a session. When I thought about that, it made way more sense to wait until after the little guy is born and get those awesome photos with his sweet little face in them! But spontaneously, our close friends Josh and Lyndsey, were coming up for a visit in Big Bear and even more spontaneously, I asked if she'd be ok with taking a few photos of Alex and I, like a maternity shoot. I knew she was awesome at taking photos, and she had a fancy camera, and she took most of our wedding photos a couple years ago, so I was PUMPED when she said she would! 

I am so grateful, Lyndsey, and these photos turned out so beautifully. They hold an even more special place in my heart because I genuinely did not think I would be having maternity photos taken, and it means so much to me to have some last professional quality photos of Alex and I before our little boy enters the world. I think next time I need to start paying you! :)

Butternut Squash Soup from Scratch Recipe

It is probably a faux pas to post this recipe, since I only took two iPhone pictures of the process, but it was so good, you're going to have to forgive my lack of pictures and just make this soup. It is easy and healthy and delicious, and does not require precise measurements, which is nice. Heck, it doesn't even require adding the specific ingredients I added, there is a lot of room for spontaneity.

I originally made this soup last fall because I really wanted butternut squash soup, but when I went to the grocery to buy some, it was SO expensive for 2 servings. And I was having company over and needed at least 6 servings. This option is much less expensive. In the fall, butternut squash is usually around $1 a pound!

I started with about 5 pounds of butternut squash. In the past, this has meant one large squash, this time, I got two smaller ones. I wear gloves to peel the squash because my skin reacts negatively to the raw butternut squash flesh. It's pretty common, some people are allergic to touching the insides of the squash, and my hands get red and peely and pretty gross. If this happens to you, don't worry. It goes away after a couple hours. But if you want to be safe, just use normal kitchen rubber gloves. Clean ones. For peeling, I just use a normal vegetable peeler. It's kind of a work out, just so you're prepared.

After the squash is peeled, cut it into 1-inch(ish) cubes. You can set these aside for a little bit.

In a large pot (I used the largest one I had that wasn't a broth pot), melt 4 tablespoons of butter. I used salted, but we add salt later as well, so it doesn't really matter if you use salted or unsalted butter. Cut up either one large onion or two small onions (I used a brown onion, I think either white, sweet or brown would be fine. Maybe not a red onion, it could throw off the color of the soup at the end!) and throw into the melted butter. You can cut these roughly and the pieces can be fairly large. You will blend these later, so your onion chopping does not have to be perfect. These will cook in the butter until they start to become translucent.

Oh, painful night.

I got punched in the face tonight. It’s the first time in my life that has ever happened. And it was done by a very old, very drunk woman. 

I learned something. Getting punched in the face sucks, but not as much as getting a B- on a Book Review for your New Testament Introduction class. It falls somewhere in between stubbing your toe on a coffee table and having a really bad migraine.

I work as a bouncer at a venue on the weekends. Typically it’s pretty laid back. I stand there and look intimidating while I tear tickets and tell people there are no “ins and outs”. Occasionally a drunk person does something stupid, keeps things interesting.

But some nights they bring in a Country/Hip Hop artist. As in, both country and hip hop… at the same time. It’s not my cup of tea. It sounds like rap music without the rap or the music, and with a fiddle thrown in over it. But that’s not the worst part. It’s the confederate flags that seem to be plastered everywhere. It’s the big guy in the pit wearing a cowboy hat made out of a Bud Light box. It’s the amazingly drunk people doing amazingly ridiculous things. It’s not without its entertainment value. It’s certainly exciting, but as I said, it’s not my cup of tea.

I take these muscle-relaxers for my back when it flairs up. I know, I’m an old man. Being a bouncer means standing for 7+ hours straight, so I took one about halfway through my shift. No more than a minute after I take my pill my manager comes running up to me. “We need you in the pit. Now!”

Big Bear Living - In Pictures

After almost two whole months in California, I'm finally getting around to posting some Fall photos that we got the chance to take in Big Bear this season! It has been so breathtakingly beautiful up here in the mountains. Watching the seasons change is remarkable and something I am so grateful to witness.

How I Got Here pt. 3- “It Ends How it Begins”

**Author’s Note: This is the last part of the “How I Got Here” series, and it ends how it begins. If I boiled the answer down to it’s simplest form, it would be “I was called.” How did I get here? I was called. I’m sure the Memento-style blog posting will come to an end, and hopefully we’ll go back to a regular chronology for future posts. If you’re confused, it may be nice to read this in reverse order, starting with this one. Thanks again for reading!**

Sometimes I imagine God like a childhood friend tapping on my window. It’s cracked open just a bit, and I can hear him saying “hey. Hey Alex! You sleepin’?” It’s this soft whisper that’s packed with all sorts of adventure. It’s dark out. I should be sleeping, but how can I?

Vocatio, the Latin word, or kaleō, the Greek. They mean calling. Our lives are wrapped up in our callings. Where do we go, and why? Our calling is the source of so many of our choices, and our choices are the only proof of our convictions. A man who has the conviction to help children understand the joy in the world may have the job of a puppeteer. If you saw this same man working at the IRS offices you’d likely think “hmmm… maybe he didn’t really care about kids that much.” This is what I mean when I say our choices are the only proof of our convictions.

People take tests about vocation. They see counselors, they talk to certified vocation professionals. My wife says that some even take quizzes on “Kickinitteenstyle.com” (Unlike her, I don’t watch The Middle). But I see it differently, or maybe I should say I hear it differently.

“Have you been half asleep, and have you heard voices? I hear them calling my name. Is this the sweet sound that calls the young sailor, the voice may be one in the same.”

It may not seem like the best way to make big life choices, but when I hear a voice calling me in the night, I go. Like Calvin hearing Hobbes knocking at the window, adventure awaits.

How I Got Here pt. 2 or "Goodness, gracious! How did you lose your job?”

I have to admit, this is hard for me to write. I put it off for a number of weeks in the hope that getting some distance from the issue may help me put words to all of it. I struggled with feeling that I should simply let sleeping dogs lie, and that if the dust had settled on this issue, what was the point in stirring it up again?

But the dust never truly settled. I still find the occasional speck falling in my eye, causing irritation and affecting my vision. Often, in order to clean a room of all that has built up overtime, our task is to kick up the dust once more, and hope it falls elsewhere… like in the trashcan, or under the rug.

The Questions of Saints

How many saints, whose words were filled with God's gospel of grace and love, were forever silenced by this hate filled world? If we believe the scriptures’ promise of persecution, and its life changing message of forgiveness, how often were truly meek and kind people cast out by a society that is aroused by strength, and who lusts for control?


Did those saints die in quiet questioning, asking themselves if they could possibly hold any worth in a world that derives value from how many people sit under you, how many you've used or can use?


How many saints had memories and dreams destroyed because they chose to serve their oppressors rather than fight them, and yet whose words of love and encouragement were heard as insult to ears who longed for sin?


How many friendships were severed, traditions broken, and histories forked by people who loved imperfectly meeting people who had perfected their sin?


How many times has the spirit of Christ been crucified?


And how many saints bear one thorn in their side and eventually are brought under by it? How many hear so frequently that they are worthless outside of their utility and find themselves believing it, even if for just a few moments?


Is this life not an eternal torment for those who pursue righteousness? Is the pursuit of righteousness not akin to Sisyphus? If the goal is only achievable to those greater than man, does not the weight of our sin come rolling back over us once we believe we've gotten near the conclusion?


Is this not torment?