Patience

I was actually called patient yesterday.  I'm not patient.  Anyone that knows me from my life prior to being a foster parent will tell you that I didn't know what the word meant.

I was asked how I can have the patience to sit down with one of our children and ask him:
"what were you thinking when you did XYZ?",
"how did you feel about XYZ?",
"what do you think Mrs. X thought about your behavior?",
"what do you think Mr. Z thought about your behavior?",
"did you know Mr. Z was watching Mrs. X and giving her a grade?"
"how do you think she did on her test?"
"were you part of her grade?"
"how do you feel about being part of her grade?"
"how do you feel about us talking about your decisions?",
"how would you change it if you had it to do again?" and finally
"can we practice how it could work better next time?"

The truth is that I never really thought about all of that as being patient.  It's just what he needs and it is my job to do it.

The legacy we will be remembered for is the person that our child grows to be as an adult.  It is a frightening prospect to be a parent, but a job that I love.  I can only hope that we leave a good legacy with our family, but I guess I will have to be patient to await the final results.