My son's Cub Scout troop is having their Pine Wood Derby this weekend. This is an event where each scout purchases a "model car kit" that consists of a rectangular block of pine wood, 4 plastic wheels and 4 nails (to hold the wheels on.) The idea is that the scout (with the help of a parent) will work on carving, painting and decorating the block of wood into the shape of a car. The car must meet certain weight requirements and then is raced against other cars on a special track. Big fun.
When I was a child, I actually won a Pine Wood Derby during my first year as a cub scout. However, I recall that my Dad did almost all the work on the car. I watched him work with all the cool power tools and I only got to paint it. So, of course, I started out with the idea that Grant and I would work "together" on his car. After about 10 frustrating minutes with a block of petrified pine, I had already chiseled off to much and I found myself yelling and acting like a madman. I kicked everyone out of the garage, glued the screwed-up block back together and finished the project mostly by myself. It didn't go at all like I wanted it to. I wanted to create a different memory than I had as a kid, but instead of a least being a helpless spectator, I actually may have created a miserable memory for my son. Worse than what I was trying to avoid. Luckily, Jennifer salvaged some of the situation, by letting Grant paint the car and add some racing decals.
Ironically, this all happened last Sunday afternoon only hours after our Small Group discussed Romans 7 and how we often do exactly what we don't want to do. Too bad the hardest block of wood to make a dent in is apparently between my own 2 ears. I'm glad my Heavenly Father is more patient in molding me than I was last weekend.