...afterall, the car may only seat seven but room for friends is unlimited...
Friday, April 9, 2010
Longing
Sunday, March 28, 2010
The State of my Affairs.
Black Bean Pineapple Enchiladas
One large Sweet Pepper (any color will be equally delicious)
One 20 oz can Pineapple (crushed or tidbits)
One 14 oz can Black Beans
One package Flour Tortillas
One can Cream of Chicken Soup
One small container Sour Cream (non-fat is fine)
Favorite cheese to grate over the top
Filling:
In a large skillet or sauce pan:
In Olive Oil, Brown three chicken breasts over medium heat. Dice and add back to the pan.
Add to the pan:
Diced Pepper
Drained Black Beans
Drained Pineapple. (Drink the juice. . .yum.)
Simmer until Chicken is cooked through.
Topping:
Mix together can of cream of chicken soup and desired amount of sour cream until smooth.
In a large rectangular glass pan, fill and roll tortillas. Place side by side until pan is full. Spread topping over the enchiladas, and top with a thin layer of your favorite cheese. Cover with Tin foil and Bake at 375 for half an hour, or until completely warmed.
Children often want seconds. Ü
This recipe is equally successful with canned chicken breast or freshly cooked chicken. If you would like to use canned, use two 12 oz cans.
Monday, March 15, 2010
Sweet!
Sunday, March 7, 2010
It's easy to see why I feel so loved.
As a child, I knew my parents loved me. I knew that they would always be there for me. When I was hurt, my mother's voice was the one I wanted to comfort me. It always did, and it still does. When I needed help, I knew that my father would be there and would have the answers I needed. He often has answers for me, now as well. As a child, however, I couldn't understand what that love was like from their point of view. Now as a mother of five, living again in their home, I have been privy to some of the most precious sights of my life. I have, as a mother myself, watched my parents with all of their grandchildren, and I recognized immediately the love in their eyes and voices. In many ways, and some of the best ways, it is like being a child again.
The other day, I was sitting on the sofa in the family room and I heard my father talking to my 8 month old niece who was sitting on the table in her carseat. I glanced over and was immediately overwhelmed by the most penetrating feeling of love. The look on my father's face was one of complete devotion and adoration. I remembered my father telling me about when I was an infant. He would take me from my mother's arms in the morning and I would sit in a baby seat at the kitchen table while he did homework. I know that a mind can't remember experiences from such an early age but my heart recognized that devotion. I knew that I had once been the recipient of those adoring looks. I knew why I have always felt so precious and so loved.
My mother has given an enormous amount of care to her grandchildren in the last few years, and how lucky those children are. Watching her is inspiring to me. She is ever patient and incredibly loving. People talk about how great grandchildren are. . . and my mother is no exception. She loves those babies. Here's the thing though, I remember being loved by her to that same tender degree. She was exceptional an exceptional Mother. There are quite a few very tiny grandchildren in the family right now, and they have all had ample opportunity to spend time with her. She feeds, burps, diapers and puts them down for naps, cuddles and coos and cherishes them. She is an exceptional Grandmother. As I see her, I am reminded that I too was once her baby, so precious and important to her. I still feel her love today, though I am grown. I know she loves me. There is no substitute for a loving mother. I have been so very blessed.
There may not be anyone in this world more blessed than I am. It is a legacy that I can emulate with confidence and without reservation. I hope that my children will be able to look back someday and see that same love in their own lives. I hope that they will know that they were loved and feel capable of passing that love to their own beautiful children.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
These Days
Monday, February 22, 2010
Fashion
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Swimming
Monday, January 4, 2010
Magic Wand
Tuesday, November 17, 2009
Why Do we go to Church?
Saturday, November 7, 2009
Sunday, November 1, 2009
On Raising Children
I found a quote the other day on Ali Edwards' blog that seems to say what I'm can't.
Dawna Markova : I will not die an unlived life. I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire. I choose to inhabit my days, to allow my living to open me, to make me less afraid, more accessible, to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise. I choose to risk my significance; to live so that which comes to me as seed goes to the next as blossom and that which comes to me as blossom, goes on as fruit.
Why waste a day worrying when there is so much that can be done to improve it? We have rules, and I reiterate the rules. I know that they are going to test the rules. It is the nature of curious children to test the rules. I try not to worry about messes that the kids will make either, because I know that the messes are going to happen. Sometimes BIG ones. Sometimes sticky ones. Often while in the process of breaking rules. There is almost no limit to the amount of imagination a child can transpose into mess form. Clean, happens - its true - but you can always be quite sure that mess is not far behind. Why worry?
I try to keep them safe. It's hard to improve on whole, healthy, intact bodies. I teach them not to fight, because angry voices destroy the peace we want in our home. Often enough, however, even these basic functions of motherhood find themselves thwarted. Sometimes, there is blood. Sometimes we need a stitch or two. Sometimes all you can hear is angry voices. This is the reason that some people have nannies. I take time when I need it, to talk to friends or relax. I do have to suffer through the craziness, but I'm also the one that gets all the good stuff. I watch it all happen, all day long, every day. No one can tell me that missing out on Q's tirades would be worth it. When I hear from those same little lips, a very sweet little voice saying, "I love you so much, Mommy. You're the best!" I know simultaneously what that voice is capable of and it melts me into a lump. You have to taste the bitter to know the sweet. You have to know the mess to appreciate the clean. You have to hear a lot of noise to truly savor a quiet moment.
Saturday, September 26, 2009
Baby Sister's Wedding
Honestly, a year ago, we might have been surprised to have been shown this scene, but it is a joyous occasion. I doubt there will be many dry eyes. I'm starting to get a little teary just thinking about it. My baby sister was the consummate tom-boy. As a little girl, she was never "practicing" her wedding like the rest of her five sisters. It just wasn't her. She was out playing football with the neighborhood boys. She has always found her own way and taken on some hulking life lessons in her less than thirty years. She survived cancer at 18, and a somewhat troubled twenties. I am fairly sure that she would have been surprised at the scene as well - but she is happy. And we are happy. So Happy.
My baby sister is getting married today. It will be a wonderful day!