We all have so much to be thankful for...

The Big Night

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 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 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 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 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 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.

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

A Mother's Prayer

There are many of you out there that can relate to Mickey's heartache. May you draw strength from her story, shared by T. Suzanne Eller. Hold fast to the truth, God knows and understands your pain and his strength will sustain you until the miracle your seeking arrives.

"Mickey's son was raised in church. He once served as a leader in his youth group. When he first started drinking, she and her husband weren't sure what to do. Then he was arrested. Then they discovered that he was using drugs. For the first time in her life, Mickey felt helpless as a mom.

Their home was a safe place where faith was lived out. And yet her son continued to spiral downward, no matter what they did. The night he broke into their small business and emptied the cash register was the bleakest night of all.

Mickey looked around the church and realized there were other moms with similar struggles. She started a Prodigal Prayer Group that met on Tuesday nights. They prayed one year, two years, and then three. Mickey saw others' children come back to their faith, but her prayers for her own son seemed to be going nowhere. Nonetheless, she continued to show up, joining in strength and support with other praying mommas.

I wish my sweet friend had a video camera recording her son through those dark days. I wish she could have seen Austin rediscover his faith, overcome his addictions, and see Austin grow into the godly man he is today.

But the reality is that Mickey didn't have a video camera. All she had was her faith. And that faith was tested over and over. She was aware of the realities of her son's choices, but she continued to pray. She continued to believe. She had to make hard choices like setting boundaries. She had to listen to other moms whose children were not straying and who did not understand her struggle.

Mickey says that during that time she began to see her son through the eyes of faith. She knew that it wasn't in her power to change her son, but that God could be her source of strength as she stayed the course.

We often say we would do anything for our children. If someone had told Mickey that it would take years of praying and believing like she did without seeing any sign of change, I wondered would she still do it? Mickey says yes, she would."

"You'll be fine"

It was a scorching hot day in the middle of August when I pulled off the highway at the 7-Eleven gas station I regularly used. I was anxious to fill up the tank and return home to my air-conditioned house. I'd been running errands all morning and my energy was zapped from the heat.

At the first available pump I came to, I parked, and shut off the engine. I retrieved a credit card from inside my purse, taking the keys out of the ignition by habit, even though my nine-year-old son was in the car. He had come along to get a new pair of shoes for school.

While the gas was flowing smoothly into the tank I washed the light film of dust off the back window of my car. I walked to the front to clean that window as well.

"Mom, I'm sooooo hot!!" my son exclaimed, confirming his statement by wiping his damp brow with his hand then his hand on his gray plaid shorts.

"I know bud, me too. We're almost done." I could feel a new rivulet of perspiration begin to trickle down my back.

Two teenage boys came out of the mini-mart, each holding an extra large slurpee. One was colored blue, the other lime green. They laughed as they enjoyed a refreshing swallow of the frosty drinks on the way to their bicycles.

Click. The numbers on the gas pump stopped moving, announcing the total. I returned the pump handle to its proper place and took my receipt as soon as it popped out. When I got back in the car I knew my son had been watching the two boys. He loved slurpees. I put the keys in the ignition and started the car.

"Sam, would you like to get a slurpee before we head home?"

"Oh yeah!" he exclaimed. "Thanks, Mom."

I moved the car and re-parked in front of the store. I pulled out two dollars from my wallet and handed them to Sam. "I'll wait here. Go ahead and get one." I nodded to him.

His eyes widened. "Aren't you coming with me?" he asked, concerned.

"No, you can go by yourself, you’ll be fine. I can see you the whole time from here."

"But...I don't even know how the machine works, I can't do it myself. Can't you come?"
His request was a small thing, but for some reason I felt Sam had to do it alone.

He hesitated,"...I don't really need one...I guess."

"Sam...I promise you can do it.” The wariness in his face hadn’t left.
“I can't always be there,” I told him. “You need to learn to do more things on your own." I gave him an encouraging smile.

He didn’t return it with one of his own. Slowly he opened the door, got out and looked at me. I gave him a thumbs up. When he walked in the store I felt a guilty twinge, wondering if I had made too big of a deal about this. It would have been so easy to go inside with him, help him get the treat and pay for it at the register. It certainly would have been quicker. I reminded myself of the feeling I had—this was a teaching moment—Sam needed to gain confidence.

When he came out of the store about five minutes later he was grinning ear to ear, holding his slurpee up like a trophy."Hi mom," he said when he climbed in the car. He held out his hand. "Here's the change."

"Thanks. You did it, great job! See it wasn't too hard for you, right?"

He nodded sheepishly, "It was easy! Next time I won't be afraid at all to do it alone." He offered me a drink.

I took a small one feeling it slide down my throat like ice. "Brrr, that's cold." I shivered.

Sam laughed. "Do you want me to go get one for you?" he offered.

"No thanks, you just enjoy yours..."


We all face things in our lives that can feel overwhelming and difficult, or even scary to handle on our own. Those are the times we need to remember-we aren’t alone. God is just a prayer away and he’s promised to never give us more than we can handle.

1 Corinthians 10:13

Hurt or Beauty?

My aunt has grown roses for years. When I was in middle school and my family was falling apart, I went to live with my aunt for almost a year. I remember her telling me not to run through her rose garden. After all, she had what seemed like hundreds of other acres that unfolded in wide open fields. I could run there.

But I didn't want to.

I only wanted to run through the rose garden. I wanted to spread my arms wide open and run between the rows brushing my fingertips across all the velvety blooms. I wanted some of the blooms to burst and shower petals all around. Then I could gather the petals and spread them along my path.

As if I could carve a new place in this world lined with beauty and void of adult words like divorce, rejection, and hate ... I wanted my world to be soft, pink, and lovely. So, I took a running start with my arms outstretched only to be shocked with searing pain within the first few steps.

Thorns. Big, mean, vicious thorns. Thorns that ripped my flesh and opened up the flood of tears I'd been so determined to hold back. Suddenly, I hated that bush. I wanted to chop it down and beat it into the ground. But I couldn't do it. I couldn't bring myself to destroy something that produced such beauty.

I stood back from the source of my pain and wondered should I call it a bush of thorns or a bush of flowers. Really, it could go either way.

Suddenly I wasn't just staring at a bush. I was staring at my life. My life. Such a bed of roses. Would I see the hurt or would I see the beauty?...

-Lysa Terkeurst

All He Wanted

A young man was getting ready to graduate college. For
many months he had admired a beautiful sports car in a dealer's showroom, and knowing his father could well afford it, he told him that was all he wanted.
As Graduation Day approached, the young man awaited
signs that his father had purchased the car. Finally, on the
morning of his graduation his father called him into his private study. His father told him how proud he was to have such a fine son, and told him how much he loved him. He handed his son a beautiful wrapped gift box.
Curious, but somewhat disappointed the young man
opened the box and found a lovely, leather-bound Bible. Angrily, he raised his voice at his father and said, "With all your money you give me a Bible?" and stormed out of the house, leaving the holy book.
Many years passed and the young man was very successful in
business. He had a beautiful home and wonderful family, but realized his
father was very old, and thought perhaps he should go to him. He
had not seen him since that graduation day. Before he could make
arrangements, he received a telegram telling him his father had passed away, and willed all of his possessions to his son. He
needed to come home immediately and take care things.
When he arrived at his father's house, sudden sadness and
regret filled his heart.
He began to search his father's important papers and
saw the still new Bible, just as he had left it years ago. With
tears, he opened the Bible and began to turn the pages. As he
read those words, a car key dropped from an envelope
taped behind the Bible. It had a tag with the dealer's name, the same dealer who had the sports car he had desired. On the tag was the date of his graduation,and the words...PAID IN FULL.

How many times do we miss God's blessings because they are not packaged as we expected?

...he is not a truly educated man.

“Gaining knowledge is one thing and applying it, quite another. Wisdom is the right application of knowledge;

“A man may possess a profound knowledge of history and of mathematics; he may be an authority in psychology, biology, or astronomy; he may know all the discovered truths pertaining to geology and natural science; but if he has not with this knowledge that nobility of soul which prompts him to deal justly with his fellow men, to practice virtue and holiness in personal life, he is not a truly educated man.

“Character is the aim of true education; and science, history, and literature are but means used to accomplish the desired end. Character is not the result of chance work but of continuous right thinking and right acting.” -David O.McKay