springtime fettuccini alfredo

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Farmers’ markets are brimming with those wonderful vegetables that have been missing during the winter months! I am always looking for new combinations to turn into delicious meals and this one is a winner!

 

Springtime Fettuccini Alfredo

3 pounds chicken breasts, cut into strips

olive oil

minced garlic

1 pound asparagus cut into bite size pieces

2 cups fresh cauliflower florets

red pepper cut into strips

1 pound fettuccini cooked al dente

1 stick butter

½ cup flour

2 cups half and half

3 cups whole milk (can use all milk)

1 cup grated parmesan cheese

salt and pepper to taste

Cook chicken in olive oil and garlic until pink is gone. Add in veggies and strip fry until chicken is a bit browned and veggies are slightly tender.

Meanwhile, melt butter, stir in flour, and stir in milk, continuously stirring over medium heat until sauce in thickened and smooth. Stir in parmesan. Mix in drained fettucini. Add in chicken and veggies. Delicious!

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socialization outside the box

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My boys, now grown, enjoy model rocketry with my grandchildren!

 

It all began during a conversation over dinner one night.

“And so,” concluded Clay, “That is how I started building model rockets when I was a kid.”

“What are model rockets?” both brothers asked at the same time, leaning in with great anticipation.

Clay, in his best Professor of Aerospace Dynamics voice, explained the process, the science behind it, and the amazing results, finding himself promising a trip to the hobby store for supplies the next weekend.

In the weeks that followed, all three of them labored for hours assembling, gluing, painting, and balancing their miniature rockets. The first launch came and went; rocketry enthusiasts had been born.

As with all children who have discovered their newest passions in life, the boys were excited to talk about it. Hurrying into Awana one Wednesday night, they described model rocketry, with much detail, to the elderly couple that led their Pioneers group. Later that night when I picked them up, they declared, “Mr. and Mrs. Tuckey were so interested in our rockets that they want us to be model rocketry teachers at the special needs school!”

I was skeptical at first, but after speaking with Mrs. Tuckey and hearing about the school’s need for volunteers to teach hands-on skills, I helped the boys plan out a schedule for working on a project with her students with the goal of Clay overseeing a launch in a few weeks.

Each Thursday, we arrived at the school building and while I attended to the baby, the boys and our daughter worked around the room with individual students, patiently answering questions and helping those who struggled with fine motor skills. Every Sunday I heard a report from the Tuckeys and as they enthusiastically talked about our project, many of their elderly friends from the church were also intrigued. My sons soon started answering their questions, too, and one WWII veteran, who had been an airplane mechanic, said he wanted to come to the launch.

Apparently he wasn’t the only one.

On the afternoon of the launch day, as we pulled into the remote park area, perfect for sending and retrieving rockets, I was dumbfounded to see not only the school bus full of the students, parents, teachers, and the school principal, but the Tuckeys sitting in their green and white stripped lawn chairs, surrounded by another 50 or so elderly people and one of the pastors and his wife from the church.

We walked through the crowd, greeting all we could, as Clay prepared the launch pad and the boys began instructing the students on the safety procedures. “Ooohs” and “aaahhhs” were offered after each lift off, followed by applause as the students warmly received each accolade when it came their way. The school principal and the Tuckeys publicly thanked the “teachers” from Homeview Academy who volunteered their time for the students!

As I remember that sunny fall afternoon in the park, I think fondly of each of those people who contributed to our beginning years of homeschooling. Nearly all of those older church folk have gone on to be with the Lord. The principal has long retired. Occasionally I see some of those students around town and, of course, my children have grown up and are building model rockets with their own homeschoolers. The value of what we learned in that process still inspires me:

Great passions often occur when we share them with our children. Our boys loved science because Clay did!

Sharing our interests as homeschooling families can be contagious. Others see our joy of learning and find their own passions!

Offering service to others will be multiplied and bring many further opportunities for ministry. Our willingness to embrace an unexpected invitation opened other doors to be a blessing, especially within our church family.

Stepping beyond your comfort zone, whether it is in outreach to your local school, elderly people, or those with special needs who appreciate your friendship can bring great joy and a sense of life purpose. This one experience opened our hearts and minds to new ideas and new people, which I still see in practice in the adult lives of my children.

Homeschooling families need to experience life outside the four walls of the home with a variety of ages, not just peers. Let me encourage you to look for ways to integrate academics, friendship, and service as part of your homeschooling lifestyle. What a great way to bring true meaning to “socialization!”

 

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(This article was originally published in Family Magazine, 2014.)

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the God who keeps His promises

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The intense July sun beat down relentlessly as we huddled under a faded green cemetery tent. Surrounded by simple grave markers, each one bearing the name of a little child, we sat in silence, wondering who they represented, how their lives had ended, if their moms and dads had been able to go on.

Since my children were small, I had daydreamed about the important and anticipated milestones in their lives: birthday parties, graduations, weddings, the births of their own children. I used to hold their tiny hands while nursing, imagining wedding bands on those sweet baby fingers! And I pictured myself during those events, too. I was the young mom decorating the Star Wars cake, the proud mama standing next to a smiling young man in cap and gown, the mother-of-the-groom, clutching a lace-trimmed hankie. But not once, in any dream, was I the grieving grandmother. That morning, I felt overwhelmed and unprepared. There had been no dress rehearsal for this moment.

The past few days had been painful. Instead of learning the gender of their new baby during an ultrasound, my son and daughter-in-law were given the heartbreaking news that their much-loved baby had died. Labor was induced and a perfect but tiny child was delivered into the arms of his grieving parents. I boarded the next plane and three hours later was greeted by both details of funeral arrangements and excited little grandchildren who were happy to see me. We talked, we cried, we tenderly held the tiny hospital treasures that had been tucked away in a special box.

So my mind raced as I sat under that tent. If I was not prepared for this time, how had I equipped my son? In all our years of homeschooling, there was no curriculum package that covered how to properly lose a child, how to comfort a grieving young mother, or how to explain the realities of life and death to little ones. Honestly, my perfect writing program and my award-winning math textbooks, once so seemingly important, didn’t even come to mind.

Slowly, a long white hearse wound its way through the field and stopped at the end of a narrow walk. My son carefully lifted the baby-sized white casket and brought it to those of us who waited. I could barely look at this dear young man; his heart was broken, his life would never be the same. I looked down to see, inscribed on the side of the miniature coffin, the words from Job 1: “The Lord has given and the Lord has taken away: blessed be the name of the Lord.”

It was then that the Lord gave me the precious gift of a memory from long ago. I pictured my wiggly and exuberant children gathered around a paste-and-crayon-covered table. They were memorizing Scripture from their Awana workbooks, serious but silly, engaged but daydreaming. I wondered how anyone could learn Bible verses, let alone understand them in the midst of such chaos. On the floor next to us was a giggling toddler and my own pregnant belly allowed me to barely reach the table. Loving and honoring both a sovereign God and His unchangeable Word was the greatest priority in our home. Loving one another, born and unborn, were simply part of who we were, day in and day out. These were the organic threads that held the tapestry of our lives together.

In those early years of homeschooling, I claimed a promise from Scripture. I didn’t pray for my children to achieve success as the world knows it. Rather, I prayed the truth found in Isaiah 55:10-11: “For as the rain and the snow come down from heaven, and do not return there without watering the earth and making it bear and sprout, and furnishing seed to the sower and bread to the eater; So will My word be which goes forth from My mouth; It will not return to Me empty, without accomplishing what I desire, and without succeeding in the matter for which I sent it.” ~ Isaiah 55:10-11 (NASB)

In that moment, sitting in a dusty field and overwhelmed by grief, God showed me that He had, indeed, answered that prayer!

(This article originally appeared in Family Magazine, 2016, Issue 1)

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