PINEWOOD DEBBY (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 car 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 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.

-- Author Unknown