A Boys Race Prayer
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 asked if they 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 Heavenly Father. He prayed in earnest for a very long
minute and a half. Then he stood, smile on his face and announced, "Okay,
I'm 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 me beat someone else. I just asked Him to make it so I
didn't cry if 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 out come, 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 fathers help." No, he
went to his Father for strength.
Perhaps we spend to much of our prayer time asking God to rig the
race, to make us number one, or to 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."
Philippines 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.
[ Peggy Porter -- from Sandra (sandrad@inebraska.com) -- Ed:Anon. ]
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