by Peggy Porter
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 humiliation 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 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 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 Cub 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 don't cry when I lose."
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
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." 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.