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" Don't Let Me Cry"
My son
Gilbert was eight years old and had been in cub
scouts only a short
time. During one of his meetings he was handed a sheet of paper, a block
of wood and four tires and told to return home and all to"dad." That was
not an easy task for Gilbert to do Dad was not receptive to
doing thing with his son. But Gilbert tried. Dad read the paper and
scoffed at the idea of making a pinewood Derby
car with his young,
eager son. The block of wood remained
untouched as the weeks passed.
Finally mom stepped in to see if I could figure this all out. The project
began.
Having no carpentry skills, I decided it would be best if
simply read the directions and let Gibert do the work.
And he did. I
read aloud the measuremnts, the rules of what we could do and what we
couldn't do. Within days his
block of wood was turning into a pinewood
Derby car.
A little lopsided, but looking great (at least through the
eyes mom). Gibert had not seen any of the other kids cars was feeling
pretty proud of his " Blue lightning". the pride that comes with knowing
you did something on your own.
Then the big night came. With his blue
pinewwod derby in hand and pride in his heart we headed to the big race.
Once there. my little one's pride turned to humility.
Gilbert's
car was obviously the only car made
entirely on his own. All the other
cars were a father-son
partnership, with cool paint jobs sleek body
styles made
for speed. A few of the boys giggled as they looked at
Gilbert's lopsided wobbly, unattractive vehicle. To add to the
humility Gilbert was the only boy without a man at his
side. A couple
of the boys who were from single parent
homes at least had an uncle or
grandfather by their side
Gibert had "mom". As the race began it was
done in elimination fashion. You kept racing as long as you were the
winner. One by one the cars raced down the finely
sanded ramp. Finally
it was between Gibert and the sleekest, fastest looking car there. As the
could stop the
race for a minute, because he wanted to pray. The race
stopped Gilbert hit his knees clutching his funny looking block of wood
between his hands. With a wrinkled brow he set to converse with his
Father. He prayed in earnest for a
very long minute and a half. Then
he stood, smile
on his face and announced. 'Okay, I am ready." As
the crowd cheered, a boy named Tommy stood with his
father as
their car sped down the ramp. Gilbert stood with his Father within his
heart and watched his block of wood
wobble down the ramp with
suprisingly great speed and rushed over the finish line a fraction of
second before Tommy's car Gilbert leaped into the air with a loud
"Thank you" as the crowd roared in approval. The Scout
Master came up to Giblert with microphone in hand and
asked the
obvious question, " So you prayed to win, huh
Gilbert?" to which
my young son answered, "Oh, no sir.
That wouldn't be fair to ask God
to help you beat someone
else. I just asked Him to make it so I don't
cry when I lose." Children seen to have a wisdom far beyond us.
Gilbert didn't ask God to win the race, he didn't ask God to fix the
outcome, Gilbert asked God to give him strength in
the outcome. When
Gilbert first saw the other cars he didn't cry out God, No fair they had a
father's help."
No, he went to his Farher for strength. Perhaps we
send
too much of our prayer time asking God to rig the to make us
nunber one or too much time asking God 's strength to get through
the struggle. He didn't pray to win thus hurt
some else, he prayed
that God supply the grace to lose with dignity. Gilbert, by his stopping
the race to speak to Father was most definitely there with him. Yes
Gilbert
away a winner that night with his Father at his side.
(Graphics by Tess created from the inspiring artwork of
Danny
Richard Hahlbohm)
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