I have become accustomed to waiting. By no means does that mean I am a patient person, in fact, many would probably say that I am the opposite, the type of individual who needs instant gratification and praise or the type who drives themselves berserk looking towards the horizon wondering, “what comes next?” or “what is my place in the tapestry of the universe that someone seems to be weaving?”
Certainly, I do believe in a higher power and I was taught that I need to be malleable towards the whims of this “force,” but when I am not in the cockpit controlling the direction of my metaphorical starship, I often lack the patience to wait idly by and see which way the wind will blow. In the weeks since obtaining licensure to become a foster parent (nearly a month if anyone is keeping track) I have pondered on whether my impatience will be a burden on my ability to be a father, or if it will be the motivator that propels my cruiser into hyperspace. If this near-perfect metaphor is not clear enough, I worry about how my impatience will be tested as a parent. I imagine if I had picked up a copy of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” or the Star Wars equivalent “What to Expect When You’re Expecting a Four-Armed, Green-Skinned, Wampa-Smelling Nerf-Herder,” I would have been told that “insecurities, fear, and impatience” are natural parts of the parenting process. After months of training, I do recognize that having patience is vital to raising healthy children. But how do I measure the right amount of patience? Surely, I know I will not lead with anger. I want to be the type of parent who forgives first and solves problems second. A jedi-master of parenting if you will. I know that is a lot of pressure to put on myself but, in my case, I am not raising my own younglings and I may not see the effects of my parenting play out over the course of their lives. Instead, I am trying my best to fill in the gaps of a traumatic experience in their childhood so that they will remember as little interruption to their upbringing as possible. In many ways, being a foster parent is like being one of the jedi who take children from their homes and provide them with lessons to help them navigate their future. But the question remains, are the jedi more suitable guardians than the parent who was present at the child’s birth? Had Anakin Skywalker remained with his mother, would he have stayed on the path of the light rather than falling into a pit of suffering and despair? Is my own trauma only passed down through genetics, or over the next year of my time spent with someone else’s child, will I unintentionally feed into the child’s dark side? Only through meditation and accepting that which I cannot control will I be able to listen to my gut instinct. Right now, I am sitting alone in my house writing these words wondering, “how much longer until I get that phone call telling me that they have a placement?” and “what am I forgetting to do in preparation for this child’s arrival?” As someone who likes to make checklists and always be accomplishing something, I find this period of waiting incredibly tiresome. I thrive on the ability to see progress. Much like Anakin biting at the bit to get a seat on the council, I am eagerly waiting for my own rank advancement. I have been granted licensure, but not graduated to actual parenthood. Maybe my eagerness is fueled by the lateral movement on the social hierarchy that signals to others “hey, I’m not just a 24-year-old taking up space, I’m a parent,” and that seems so alluring. In the same egotistical vein, I cannot deny that there is a part of me that feels good to say, “oh, I’m not just a parent, I’m a foster parent, which means I’m not contributing to overpopulation or feeding my own need for legacy. Instead, I am taking care of children in need. Look at me, I am a real philanthropist” and maybe I’m shouting from the social media rooftops, “I’m such a good person.” That is an effect of trauma in my life leading me to do anything it takes to feel valued or accepted. I believe my own need for gratification is also a byproduct of this. It Is a trial that I am working to overcome, and it circles back to my fear: will I be patient enough as a parent? My current impatience is due to excitement. That is a reasonable reaction. My impatience to know what the future holds is relatable, I am sure, to many people. However, when being a parent proves to be more difficult than I expect it to be, will my patience be enough? Will I cave because my motivations to become a parent are selfish? Only time will tell. Like Qui-Gon taking the time to meditate in battle between pulsating walls of laser, I must remember to take these quiet moments to reflect on my experience and navigate where I would like to go moving forward. If Star Wars has taught me anything, it is that our fears are often misguided. Yoda told Anakin that you must, “train yourself to let go of everything you fear to lose” and later told Luke, “patience you must have.” Already, before I have even met the youngling coming into my life, I fear to lose them. My impatience stems from the worry that the time I invest in this child may not be worth it in the end. As I write these words on this page, I want to let go of those fears. Sometimes people come into our lives for a reason and they bring lessons we must learn, helping us to grow. Parenting is a symbiotic relationship. For now, even just one day in a child’s life needs to be enough. I may not have forever, but if I pass on what I have learned I will be a positive force for this growing padawan. Maybe, just maybe, there will be some lessons along the way for this unexperienced jedi master too. -Erick L. Graham Wood [email protected]
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Erick L. Graham WoodHello there! Archives
June 2023
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