from Harold's file . . .
PINEWOOD DERBY (The wisdom of a child)
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 give all to "dad".
That was not an easy task for Gilbert to do. Dad was not receptive to
doing
things with his son. But Gilbert tried. Dad read the paper and scoffed at
the
idea of making a pine wood 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 I simply
read the directions and let Gilbert do the work. And he did. I read aloud
the
measurements, 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 of mom).
Gilbert had not seen any of the other kids' cars and 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 pinewood derby in his 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 and 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, Gilbert 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 Gilbert and the sleekest, fastest looking
car
there. As the last race was about to begin, my wide eyed, shy eight year
old
ask if they could stop the race for a minute, because he wanted to pray.
The
race stopped.
Gilbert went to 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 surprisingly great
speed
and rushed over the finish line a fraction of a 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 Gilbert 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
wouldn't
cry when I lost."
Children seem 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 to God, "No fair, they had a father's help!". No, he went to his
Father
for strength. Perhaps we spend too much of our prayer time asking God to
rig
the race, to make us number one, or too much time asking God to remove us
from
the struggle, when we should be seeking God's strength to get through the
struggle. "I can do everything through Him who gives me strength."
Philippians
4:13
Gilbert's simple prayer spoke volumes to those present that night. He
never
doubted that God would indeed answer his request. He didn't pray to win,
thus
hurt someone else, he prayed that God supply the grace to lose with
dignity.
Gilbert, by his stopping the race to speak to his Father also showed the
crowd that he wasn't there without a "dad", but His Father was most
definitely there with him. Yes, Gilbert walked away a winner that night,
with
his Father at his side.
May we all learn to pray this way.
-- Author Unknown
_______
To unsubscribe, send "unsubscribe rangernet" to [EMAIL PROTECTED]
"Eat the hay & spit out the sticks! - A#1's mule" RTKB&G4JC!
http://rangernet.org Autoresponder: [EMAIL PROTECTED]
