But I have to add more one funny thing about this whole adventure in learning (that's framing in a much better way than my late night characterization of "infernal blasted science experiment!). We had finally finished all the writing and typing of hypothesis and results and conclusions, etc., and now it came down to one last herculean task: making the graph. Now, keep in mind I have the technological ability of an ant, though that might even be disparaging to the ant. So I had no earthly idea how to do a graph on "Excel" (whatever that is--I don't even think I spelled it correctly). Graphs on a computer sounded like neurosurgery to me, so imagine my relief that Peter totally, absolutely knew how to do it. O, yes, he had assured me repeatedly over the past week, "I know exactly how to do it, Mom. I know how to make the graph." And I needed that reassurance constantly, as I felt increasingly uneasy about the prospect of such a foreign and totally out-of-my-comfort-zone task. But my 4th grader had it, and life was good.
So, late yesterday afternoon, the time had come to make the dreaded graph. Peter confidently stepped up to the computer, opened the Excel program (I couldn't even do that), and then looked up at me. "Okay, what do I enter, Mom?" Excuse me? I'm sure I misunderstood, but it sounded like Peter was asking totally clueless moi what to do. Staying moderately calm, I replied, "What do you mean, what do you enter? Just enter the stuff you planned on entering in whatever way you planned on entering it." My voice started rising just the teensiest bit. Peter started hitting some rather random looking keys, stared at the empty graph on the computer, and finally admitted, "I don't know what to do."
O MY STARS! Call the FBI. Call someone at MIT. Call the engineering department at NC State. Call one of my son's friends who either know how to do this or have an intelligent, organized Mama who knows how to do this and who probably made sure this project was finished a week and a half ago.
Or, maybe call his big sister. Who, bless her soul, since she was incredibly busy working on a big paper, came downstairs and easily and quickly showed us what to do. Okay, that's not true. She did the whole thing while Peter and I watched in utter amazement and joyous relief. It took her less than 5 minutes. It would have taken us till the year 2025. Maybe 2050. Maybe never.
As I thought about all of this, I couldn't help but see how my precious son reflected his sinful, often wayward mama. O yes, I absolutely know what to do. I've got it. I've totally got it..... until disaster strikes. Reality sets in. Exhaustion and discouragement follow. And we realize, I "don't got it" after all. In fact, I've blown it again. I've gone my own prideful way, so certain I know what is best and that my plan is certainly better than anything God might have in store for me. "No, Lord," we essentially declare, "I've got this. I don't need Your help or Your guidance or Your plan. I'm in control and I've got it."
And then we fall and falter and fail and come humbly before Him and admit, "Once again, Father, I don't 'got it.' Would You forgive me? Would You show me? Would You guide me and enable me?" And the remarkable, unbelievable thing is--He does. He always does. It's called GRACE, and it is glorious.
But next time, Lord, help us to remember to seek You first and foremost. O Lord, I'm such an impossibly slow learner (just ask my kids or my computer), but help me to turn to You and seek Your will and Your way first and foremost rather than heading off on my own prideful path. Help us, Lord, to pray the prayer You never refuse: "We don't know what to do, but our eyes are on You." (2 Chronicles 20:12) You Lead, Lord; we'll follow. And to our Leading, Loving Lord who's grace and mercy flow so freely, be all the glory.
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