I sat in the bleachers staring up at the clock and back down at my laptop, fuming. It was 8:30pm, and it looked like there was no end in sight to this practice. The running shot clock actually had 30 minutes left, which was confusing to me because I was explicitly told by one of the coaches that practice would end at 8:30. The longer I waited, the more impatient I became. I’m noticing this is a reoccurring theme for me these days.
I leaned over to another parent sitting nearby and asked, what time does practice end again? She gave me a look of shared frustration and replied, they told me 9. Great. I wasn’t prepared mentally or emotionally for a 9pm end time. Now I’m basically a hostage! The whole thing seems absurd! What 10 year old needs to be practicing until nearly their bedtime (and close to mine) on a school night? What are we doing here people??? (Welcome to parenting athletes in the 21st century.)
So what did I do next?
While I’d fantasized about storming onto the court, grabbing my child, and berating the coaches on the way out the door, I didn’t do that. Instead, I took a deep breath and closed my laptop (because at this point I was too tired to get any productive work done anyway). Then I pulled out a book from my book-bag and started reading. I was almost to the end of Abby Abby Phillip’s A Dream Deferred: Jesse Jackson and the Fight for Black Political Power and I wanted to see how ended. (At least I could count on one definitive conclusion that evening).
Patience. I’m finding these days, it’s more than a virtue, it’s the straw that stirs the drink of progress.
I’m in the middle of doing a number of hard things right now (parenting, building a business, organizing), and I constantly feel impatient about the pace of progress. That’s the main barrier for me right now. I want results right now, and life is like… naw… we’re working on something. Apparently that something is me.
I’m finding that the more I yield to the steady, perfecting work of letting go and letting God, good things happen. My ability to be at peace with myself and the world around me depends on me developing a practice of patience. If anything, it’s not about changing my circumstances, it’s about changing my perspective.
As we climbed in the van after practice London remarked how tired she was, but like a good tired. I asked her if she had fun and she said she did. Though I was still annoyed about the long evening, I could see the light at the end of the tunnel. And I could also see a realization that we might be in this basketball thing for the long haul… Now if only I could remind myself to enjoy the ride, because it might take a minute (and it could actually be worthwhile).
SDW3
everyday fatherhood 