Dear Mom

Today I made chicken gravy and biscuits for lunch. Pretty sure I will never make some foods without thinking of you, Mom. I don't think my biscuits ever turn out quite as good as yours but today they were pretty decent. I remember the day you tried to figure out some measurements so I could try to make "your" biscuits at my own house. It was one of those 'add milk to the right consistency' type of deals. Our favorite way to have chicken and biscuits was to put the gravy in the bottom of a casserole dish, drop the biscuits on top, then bake it all together. That is still one of the best comfort foods to me. 

I still can't imagine how anyone could not like chicken and biscuits but some people at this house aren't fans. Maybe it's partly that I don't very often use cooked chicken in dishes. We grew up butchering our own chickens and eating lots of chicken every which way. You almost always had cooked chicken and broth in the freezer, Mom; I rarely do, if ever. I have learned that most of mine like it best with the gravy and biscuits served separately. I can compromise like that! 

I think I inherited my dislike of cooking from you, Mom. Although I think I have a worse case of it than you did. Still, there are certain foods that were your specialties and they will always make me think of you. I don't mind that at all. 

Love, Bethany

******************

In case you'd like to try chicken gravy and biscuits, I'll give the recipes.... if you can call them that; they're not very specific. Are those the best kind?

BISCUITS

- Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Place a couple blobs of shortening in a pan and place in oven. 

- In a mixing bowl, place 3 parts self-rising flour and 1 part shortening (so for lunch I used 3 cups of self-rising flour and 1 cup of shortening and that made 15 biscuits)

- Cut shortening into flour with fork (or however you like to do it)

- Add milk to the right consistency 🙂

(You can make your dough stiff, roll it out and cut your biscuits but mom usually made a sticky dough and dropped her biscuits by spoonfuls. Today I added maybe a cup and a half of milk? Maybe more, I didn't measure.)

- Drop biscuits into pan with melted shortening (Or place cut biscuits in pan.) The melted shortening gives them the nice, brown, crunchy bottoms. 

- Bake until slighty brown (about 20 minutes)

CHICKEN GRAVY

- Place chicken broth in kettle (I used about 4 cups of broth and added maybe a cup of water to it plus a teaspoon or so of salt)

- Bring to a boil

- In a gravy shaker, place 1 1/2 to 2 cups milk and maybe 3/4 cup flour. Shake well. 

- While stirring, add flour paste to boiling broth until it reaches desired consistency. 

- Cut up cooked chicken into gravy. 

- Serve over biscuits. 

******************

Is there a food that makes you think of your mom?

Bethany Ann 41

I'm sitting in my van, in the Aldi parking lot. I ran off for groceries this afternoon, practically giddy with excitement about getting out of the house and being alone. Who am I even?

I don't even like to shop. 

The sun nearly peeked through the clouds on the way, and I saw a little patch of blue sky! It's been a rainy, cloudy, grey week in Ohio. 

I have never, ever wanted to homeschool. I've always said I would if I had to but if there was a Christian school available, my children would be there. Well, here I am homeschooling. Who am I even?

I'm a woman living in a strange world, I guess. The truth is, I'm still not really homeschooling -- my oldest daughter is doing most of the teaching. 

This girl reads constantly. She dug into her stack of school books like a hungry bear. 

I've never been the mom who cries much over first days of school or babies going from immobile to walking but last week my two oldest left for a measly weekend with the youth and I honest to goodness got tears in my eyes. Who am I even?

You get soft in your old age, that's what. I didn't used to freak out about heights or fast driving either...

We took the opportunity to take the three youngest on a little excursion of our own last weekend, and it was great fun. 

Chris and I joined the bikers on our rollerblades and our youngsters were quite amazed.

 We also checked out Big Muskie's Bucket. 

My oldest daughter was planning to graduate this year (her 11th year) but chose to quit school when we decided to homeschool. Since the news of that circulated, she has gotten at least half a dozen job offers -- everything from cleaning to accounting to old lady sitting. I watch her with her myriad of abilities and opportunities and try to wrap my mind around the fact that I'm the mom in this scenario. Who am I even?

I don't have an answer for that one. All I know is, I don't feel nearly as old as I always thought the moms in this scenario feel.

This girl was born to teach! I love to watch her. In the mean time, she's decided to (hopefully) finish her 12th year of school next year after all. I'm kinda glad if she gets a chance to revert back to school girl for a bit again. 

No, I don't know who I am these days. 

When I was five years old, I always signed my name Bethany Ann 5 -- there are still old coloring books and story books to prove it. 

I guess this is Bethany Ann 41.

After Five Months

 Hello. 

I'm not sure who I am anymore but someone with my name used to write in this space. I miss her.... and it.

A kind reader sent me an email the other day: "Hi Bethany! How are you? I haven't seen a blog post from you in awhile so I was concerned. Hope all is well!"

Her message touched me. 

All is well, I think you all deserve to know that. I am still here, in my little corner of the world -- living, breathing and healthy. Four weeks ago today our first foster placement was reunited with her mommy. It was a happy, happy day! My husband and oldest son are still working at a tire shop as manager and tire tech respectively. We've chosen, in this strange year of the great pandemic, to try our hand at homeschooling. Hopefully, we can manage to keep the four scholars lined up to slip back into their classrooms next year with no major damage done. 

 

That pretty much catches you up with my life!

Wait. What's that? You're pretty sure there's more? But what makes you... Oh. You don't think someone would just go silent for five months for no reason? You noticed that, huh? Well, yeah, about that...it's complicated, see. 

I'm not really sure how to explain my silence, honestly. I feel like the last two years have slowly but surely silenced me. I look back at all the blog posts I wrote over the past nine plus years and I'm not even sure who that person was? I feel like I hardly know her anymore. 

Without going into a lot of details or digging very deep, I will try to make some sense of what I am saying. 

In 2019, we opened our hearts to a young man who had joined our church. He lived with us part of the year, worked with Chris, was a big part of our lives. I couldn't write about any of that for many reasons -- mostly, out of respect for him. I still can't. 

Whether good or bad, 2019 sparked in me the feeling that it's better to just be quiet. Some things are just too hard to explain; some things others will never understand. The problem was, if I couldn't be authentic, I ended up with nothing to say at all! 

Then came 2020. 

The isolation of school shutting down and no church and no social life plus our first foster placement only magnified the feelings I already had. Foster care was just another thing that couldn't be shared freely on a blog and I finally just quit trying altogether. If writing was going to be so much work, it wasn't worth it. I've always written because the words came and I enjoyed it; I wasn't interested in manufacturing something that wasn't there. 

I still don't know what's to become of this little space. I've missed writing terribly. I've prayed about it often but haven't felt God giving me any clear answers. I never, ever wanted to be the blogger who wrote sporadically. I'd rather just shut the blog down and never write again! But, here I am, doing what I never wanted to do. 

I miss the community that nine plus years has created here. I miss the person I was who wrote all those things. God has recently given me a couple of writing opportunities that were quite unexpected and that have sparked a little of the old urge to write again. I am grateful. That little email I received from a reader also blew some air on the flame, so thank you again for that. 

I don't know what will become of About My Father's Business, we'll see. But I'm still here, alive and well, with a few more grey hair and a very different life these days. 

Cheerio!

I'll probably see you again, but who knows when.....

I Cried Today

Dear Bio Mom,

I saw you standing there today, waiting outside the door, and suddenly my throat felt tight and my eyes pricked with tears. I thought of not seeing my four year old for two months and I cried. I thought of you hugging her and holding her and never wanting to let go but bravely saying goodbye after the allotted hour. 

I saw you standing there today, waiting outside the door all alone, and suddenly my heart ached. I thought of going through rehab and pulling my life together and working hard day after day for my child and I cried. I thought of all you've done these months and yet how much is out of your hands but to bravely keep on. 

I saw you standing there today, waiting outside the door patiently, and suddenly my heart skipped and my breath came short. What if? What if you haven't worked as hard as I hope? What if your resolve slips and the temptations come too strong? What if it's too hard one day to be brave and keep going? The ache in my heart gripped me and the tears fell down. 

I saw you standing there today and I cried. My heart longed to ensure a good outcome; a "right" one. But I knew that all that's in my power is to do the small bit that I can. And so I came home and read ten stories and whispered another prayer and hugged your four year old a little tighter tonight. 

I can't orchestrate this story, no matter how hard I wish I could. Only God knows both sides of these pages and all the hidden lines and phrases in between. Tonight I'm trusting Him with the writing and begging Him to please, please keep you in the story; your four year old needs you.

Two Years Ago And Today

Two years ago today, I wrote this post. When I saw the memory pop up on Facebook this morning, I sent Chris a screenshot.

He replied: Still feel that way?

It's been a long journey since that day two years ago. Making ourselves available turned into so many experiences and feelings that I never anticipated. The hours and hours of classes turned into weeks and weeks of home study check lists which turned into months and months of jumping through added hoops. There were hurts and angry tears and so many, many questions along the way. God took us down bunny trails in those months and used our open hand in ways I couldn't have thought up if I had tried.

One year and four months after my blog post, when our foster care license officially arrived in the mail, I know I was better prepared than the day that I wrote it. But God wasn't done asking me to practice the open hand idea. It wasn't until eight months later, the week that schools closed and stay at home orders commenced, that our first placement arrived.

So, do I still feel that way? Well, probably about as much as I did then!

We're almost five weeks into this life and I'm sure in five more weeks I'll have learned so much more. But right now? Right now I'm pretty sure about several things.

1) It's not about feelings. For some people it might be; some people might have hearts just overflowing with joy and love and a desire to care for other people's children. Honestly? That's not really been me. For me, God called and it felt like the right thing to answer. It's ok to not have the feelings.

2) It's ok to miss the life that was. It's ok to think about how easy life would be with just my own happy family. It's ok to feel sorry for my youngest, who's life has been rocked the hardest; it's ok to feel sorry for my girls, whose shared room is now stretched to include a child who disrupts their camaraderie at bedtime. But it's not ok to live there.

For every hard adjustment, there is a coinciding blessing in knowing that this obedience makes Jesus smile.

When I look into those sweet, brown eyes I pray that someday the memories from our house will be ones of hope and love that will stay forever. And when I look at my children, I pray that the stretching and dividing of our love and time and ease will multiply into less selfishness and bigger hearts.

3) If foster care touched my heart in no other way, it would be touched by watching my husband love this child. Suffice it to say, I would never be doing this if it wasn't for him.

And now my hour alone that my husband granted me must come to an end. You can only sit in a cold van for so long anyway...

Perspective

Sun, April 12

I'm sitting outside alone again. I wonder why that's the only time I seem to be able to string words together these days? Actually, I don't wonder at all. 

My oldest loves frisbee golfing. Since his hours at work have been cut back drastically, he's been turning the game into a regular hobby. Every time he goes, and especially if he takes Jasmine with him, I feel a little bitter. Must be nice to just run off and do something fun, you know? Well, this evening Jasmine said, "You're going with him!" And Isaac said, "Sure, I don't care."

Oh, it was lovely. 

I am terrible at frisbee golf. There's nothing like tagging along with your 17 year old son to make you feel like the old lady you really are!

But walking around the course with him and not needing to be responsible for anyone but myself was so refreshing. And when I got tired of walking and entertaining him with my lame throwing, I found a bench and enjoyed the breeze. 

There were signs of Spring all around -- from the green, green of the grass to the fresh, pale leaves on some of the bushes and trees. There were bright splotches of yellow dandelions dotting the waving grass and tucked here and there were tiny, purple violets for the people who took close notice. 

We weren't the only ones out enjoying the evening. Across the way to my left, an older gentleman was whiling his time away with a golf club. Standing in the lower ballfield, he methodically practiced his swing -- sending golf balls sailing into the upper ballfield and beyond. He must have had quite a collection of balls, because this exercise went on for quite some time. Eventually the stash was spent or his time was up; he spent the rest of his time wandering around the area retrieving his balls. I predict that by the time golf courses re-open his friends will have quite a competitor to deal with!

Life these days continues on with one day looking so much like the next that it's hard to remember what happened when and which day was what. It is always easier to focus on the negative in life but especially so now, I think. The close confines of home and the same circle of eight people seem to magnify and aggravate every bad part of a life that is really quite good.

Listing my many blessings doesn't make all the bad things magically disappear. It can help to change my perspective though and perspective is everything when you're looking at how things appear.

     * * * * * *
 Mon, April 13
I started my morning with this cheerful, inspired Instagram post:

"Get yourself a daughter who makes you breakfast.... and a son who let's you tag along frisbee golfing.... and a husband who pitches right in with foster care just like he always has with fathering his own... It's so easy these days to get bogged down with the hard parts of life but perspective is everything and I am so very, very blessed. "

 I'm pretty sure if I had known how my day would go, I would have kept my mouth shut. The day included -- among other things -- both me and my first grader in tears, multiple time outs, countless petty fusses, rain, clouds and cold wind. I'm tempted to say the perspective thing did nothing for me at all today. 

But if I remember that perspective doesn't magically make the bad things disappear, I can look back at this day and shift my eyes to see --

 * The first grader and I wiping our tears, praying together and tackling school with a will. 

 * No kicking and screaming included in the time outs and some sweet snuggles afterward. 

 * My two middle girls making a treasure hunt for the little ones with their own precious candy. 

 * The dad taking over after supper and some of the happiest playing of the day ensuing. 

 * The promise that Spring is coming, even though today didn't feel like it. 

It still wasn't my favorite day. I'm still looking forward to bedtime and the rivalry and fussing still make my brain feel weary. But perspective is still everything, so I'll focus and re-focus and keep doing it again. 

  * * * * *

That was his frisbee stuck in the tree. 

An Hour Alone

I am sitting in the woods all alone. My house, with all its bustle and noise, peeks through the leafless trees behind me. To my left, there's a rustling and I turn to see two chipmunks chasing each other through the fallen leaves.

The sun is slipping down in the west and in a cluster of fallen trees, a pair of cardinals flit brightly about. A dog barks in the distance and I hear the sound of a door and the voice of my son. I've gotten permission to disappear for an hour and no one knows where I am. The stillness and solitude are delicious; I could sit here for hours. Except for the fact that my seat isn't too cushy and I was only granted leave for one.

Count yourself privileged. 

I don't usually post pics of myself. 

I'm not entirely sure what I've come here to say. So many things could be said but where does one even begin to start?

  ● We've survived 13 days of school at home. We've been hanging by a thread a good bit of that time but here we are at another Friday. Survived.

  ● On Monday it will be four weeks since I have been in a store. I honestly don't really miss shopping. My husband picks up all my groceries and we fare more sumptuously now than before.

  ● I now realize fully what a problem my first grader has with concentration, how little I remember about 5th and 6th grade math and how hard it is to get a boy enthused about writing.

  ● I have proven that all you really need to do in order for a family to survive is provide food and keep the clothes washed. A bit of cleaning here and there is great but the bare minimum will suffice.

  ● Sunshine and fresh air are the greatest gift in the whole wide world.

  ● A father's voice is an amazing thing. Or is it his physique? His size? Maybe his confidence? Whatever it is, it works wonders in little people with attitudes and mothers just simply do not have it.

  ● Going from six solid hours alone five days of the week to zero hours alone + overseeing the schooling of four children + adding your first foster child to your family all in a week's time is.... a lot. Thought maybe there would be somebody out there that needed to know that.

A birthday and a mini pie

  ● We're two weeks in to this foster care experience and what do I say? I could say that it's hard. Everybody knows that. I could say that it's rewarding but everybody probably knows that too. Someday I will find more words. For now, it's only been two weeks and I know so little. But I'm already learning so much.

  ● I am learning that starting my day by "Entering His gates with thanksgiving in my heart" does wonders for my attitude and my day. Also, the prayers of friends and family are worth their weight in gold.

  ● I have no idea what the future holds in all this strange and bizarre life that we're living. Mostly, I do one day at a time. One more load of laundry, one more penmanship paper, one more temper tantrum from a sweet little soul who is learning the boundaries in this new place, one more meal made and scarfed down, one more round of night time hugs....

Whatever the future holds, God will be there.

  ● My husband is an angel in disguise.

And now my seat is complaining about this fallen log, the sun is hiding it's cheery blaze and my hands are turning to ice. My hour is nearly up and I guess I've said what I came here to say, although it came out differently than I thought it might.

Wherever you are and whatever you are facing, I pray you feel the grace that only God can provide.

   *************
PS. I don't think anyone even missed me during my hour.

PPS. I forgot to mention that clean up before bedtime is essential.