Episode Three | Chicken Divan

Close your eyes and think of all the people you love. Your grandparents, your mom, your dad, siblings, spouse, children, friends. Imagine them all standing together for a group picture, arms around each other, smiling at the camera. They may not all know each other but they share one common thread: you. They all love you.

As you’re taking in this moment, this collection of love and joy, suddenly something unimaginable happens. A bear runs up to the group. Yes, a bear. A vicious grizzly, baring its teeth, ready to rip everyone to shreds.

Which one of those people in your snapshot comes to the rescue? Is it you? Is it your dad? Your crazy cousin who believes the government has wiretapped all of our phones and is overly proud of his beard?

Well, in my family, it would be my mom.

Why? Because no matter the challenge—whether it’s a grizzly bear or one of life’s curveballs—my mom has always been the one to step in. She's tough. Way tougher than a bear. (Even in her nearly 70-year old arthritic state, a bear wouldn’t stand a chance against my mom if it came for one of us.)

And I love this about her. She takes on everyone’s grizzlies—breakups, disabilities, drama, you name it—and she thrives. Solving problems, righting wrongs, defending the people she cares about, those are her superpowers.

And everyone knows it. To illustrate this point, my mom and I shared a boss for a few years, and one time, after I had very honestly given my opinion, he said, “Well, like mother, like daughter!”

I couldn’t help but laugh, because everyone just knows that my mom is tough.

But what makes my mom extraordinary isn’t just her toughness. It’s this little-known secret about her, that only a few people are lucky enough to experience.

And that is her very tender heart.

You see, my mom—as tough as she is—loves BIG. Recklessly. Without abandon.

And if you are fortunate enough to be loved by my mother, you will be loved forever. No matter what.

Now, don’t misunderstand. She will absolutely tell you if you have crossed a line or if your outfit is…unbecoming. And she will have no shame about it.

But her love and loyalty cannot be shaken.

I really think she would love us even if we were serial killers. She would call the police on us so fast, but…she’d still love us.

This year, on Thanksgiving, my mom sent me a picture of a note she’d found, addressed to me. She found it in the back of the drinkware cabinet when she was getting the fancy cups down for dinner.

It read, “Kelley, thanks for all the times you helped pack and move these. I love you.” It was written on a piece of cardboard, waaaay in the back of the shelf, behind all the stemmed glasses.

Neither one of us remember when she wrote it or where it came from or how it got up there, but, when I saw it, I could only imagine an older version of myself finding it after she’d passed on.

And then this thought hit me like a ton of bricks: our words—even the ones we scribble on cardboard—last.

They outlive us. They become treasures.

Isn’t it cool that words are the only thing you can really leave behind after you’re gone?

In this way, we underestimate how much power our words hold.

Because it’s not just the grand speeches or the formal letters. It’s the everyday stuff—the birthday cards you mail, the words you whisper when someone’s hurting, the chicken scratch you scribble on an old recipe card—the same card your kids will one day pull out on an ordinary Tuesday, when they’re missing you so much and they just wish they could have one more of your home cooked meals.

Those small, ordinary moments live on in the hearts of the people we love.

Our words are our legacy.

That’s because, one day, those everyday words become the things your loved ones cling to. They’ll pull them out when they’re missing you. They’ll reread the notes you wrote, pass down your recipes, or carry your advice with them in their toughest moments.

This is the reason I think handwritten recipes are so special. They’re not just instructions for food. They’re a piece of you. A reminder of the time and care you poured into creating something for the people you love.

You might be wondering where I’m going with this. Well, on Things I Read & Loved, we talk about all kinds of beautiful words—not just books. Although, it will be mostly books because I love books.

But I couldn’t pass up an opportunity to encourage you to do two things:

1. Leave encouraging words behind

2. Write your recipes down on paper.

So, speaking of recipes, I want to share one of my mom’s best: Chicken Divan.

It’s so easy and delicious and your kids will probably love it if you leave out the broccoli—more on that later. I have a picture of it written in her handwriting on an old recipe card, so I’ll put the picture on my website and you can download it if you, like me, love handwritten recipes. I’ll also write this out in the show notes so you can take a screenshot. And, at the end of this episode, I’ll tell you how it’s made.

Today you’re going to meet the glorious: Chicken Divan, an easy chicken and rice recipe.

Now, Chicken Divan wasn’t just any recipe in our house—it was my favorite.

For context, every year on our birthday, Mom would make us whatever meal we wanted. Katie chose wrapped chicken, Matt chose lasagna, and I chose my beloved Chicken Divan.

But, favorite meals weren't just for birthdays, though. Mom made our favorite meals for all kinds of reasons—when our dates came over for dinner, when we had bad days at school, or just because she was thinking about us a little extra.

And, while favorite meals were delicious, it was the words we exchanged around the dinner table that mattered most. My brother and sister will probably recount arguments and awkward retellings of the trouble we got into at school, but I’ve always been a little more fanciful than them, so I remember things differently. I’m telling you this about my siblings so you get the complete picture. We were a real family who slammed doors and stormed off from the dinner table on occasion, but, honestly, those memories are pretty funny now. I remember one time my sister and I were fighting at the table, so Dad said, “If you’re going to act like animals, you can eat outside.” And he sent her to the back deck and me to the front porch, with our dinner plates in hand. Dad was never without a creative punishment, you see.

But, dinnertime was when we all came together, and we loved when mom made our favorite meals.

We had a traditional kind of dinner-table upbringing—Mom made the meals, and Dad asked us about our days. Dad isn’t a big talker, so he always asked a lot of questions instead of hogging the conversation. It was common for Dad to look us in the eye and say matter-of-fact, “How was your day? Tell me all about it. Don’t leave anything out.”

Then, we’d proceed with whatever details we deemed appropriate for parental knowledge.

And it’s those words—those small, consistent, everyday phrases shared over a home-cooked meal—that have stayed with me the most.

In fact, most of my childhood dinner table memories look exactly like this: mom exhausted from working and cooking and dad asking us about our day.

And I remember being extra happy on Chicken Divan nights because it made me feel special—my mom had made my favorite meal!

Now, I know I’m biased, but Chicken Divan is the best one of the favorite meals because it’s got all the major food groups: protein, veggies, grains, dairy. And it’s so good.

I know it sounds healthy, but it is comfort food, okay. I’m southern. Sorry to get your hopes up if you were expecting healthy. This is not that. But it is good, and it does have all the food groups in one meal, so you’re welcome.

I’m gonna share the recipe with you, but before I do, I want you to remember this: even though we’re talking about food, this is about so much more than dinner. Recipes like this are about love—about the words and the care that go into making something for the people you cherish.

Without further adieu, here’s how you make it:

• Preheat your oven to 350 and get out your favorite 9x13, preferably one with a lid, because you’ll have leftovers. Exciting stuff, I know, but hang with me. :)

• Boil 4 chicken breasts and cut them up into bite-size pieces.

• Mix together 2 cans Cream of Chicken soup, 1 cup mayo, ½ tsp curry powder, 1 tsp lemon juice. Mom says she always forgets the curry, but I like it, so please remember it.

• Then, layer cooked broccoli, chicken, and your soup mix in your 9x13.

• Top with cheddar cheese. P.S. I buy frozen broccoli and I don’t cook it because I’m a lazy chef. But you do you.

• Bake loosely covered with tin foil for 20 mins, then remove the foil and bake another 20 minutes.

• Be careful you don’t overcook the cheese on top, although it is good when the cheese is a little on the crispy side.

• Then, you’re going to serve it over rice.

Here are some family secret pro-tips:

1. Make half the pan with broccoli and half without just in case your kids don’t like broccoli. That’s what mom used to do. :)

2. After you’re done, put the extra rice in the 9x13 with the leftover chicken mix. Then it will be so easy to scoop out and re-heat. It’s amazing left over!

3. Add salt and pepper after you serve it—not when you’re cooking. It will taste better that way.

While your Chicken Divan bakes, I want you to consider this: your words and small actions matter so very much to the ones you love, no matter if you have a grizzly personality or a more, let’s say, palatable one.

They might not feel grand or significant in the moment, but they add up. They become part of your legacy.

When your kids or loved ones find that old recipe card, or read a note you wrote them, or remember the phrases you always said, they’ll feel you with them, and they’ll remember how much you loved them.

Something as simple as your chicken and rice recipe might end up on a nostalgic podcast one day—not because it’s earth-shattering, but because you created the memories that accompany it.

So, on those tired nights when you’d rather order takeout. Or when you don’t feel like doing another load of dishes…

I want you to grab this recipe card. Head to the store. Get the few ingredients. Come home. Throw it in a pan and cook it. Put it on the table. Sit down. Take a deep breath. Look your kids in the eye, and say, “How was your day? Tell me all about it. Don’t leave anything out.”

And one day, maybe after you're gone from this earth, when your kids find themselves at their own dinner table, do you know what will happen?

They’ll put Chicken Divan on the table, look their probably-grown-kids in their eyes, and say, “How was your day? Tell me all about it. Don’t leave anything out.”

Maybe their kids will be walking through a scary diagnosis, a divorce, the birth (or death) of a child, a celebration, a new job, an exciting adventure.

At that moment, your legacy will silently live on because the kindness you showed to your loved ones in this life will pass on to the next generation.

And so on, and so on. That’s how legacy goes.

So, as you go through your day, take the time to say a kind word to someone. Write that note you’ve been meaning to write. Mail that birthday card you have ready to go on your desk (even if it’s belated!). Cook a meal and ask hard questions over it.

Because one day, those words will outlive you. And that is your legacy.

Now, isn’t that a lovely thought?

Generations of goodness, all because of a pan of Chicken Divan.