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UNANSWERABLE QUESTION OF THE MONTH

Why does a tree root (which technically speaking is no longer attached to an actual tree) in the middle of my front yard appear to be decaying more slowly than the painted wood on my house?

UNANSWERABLE QUESTION OF THE MONTH 2

Why do people who park illegally always seem to have nicer cars than I do? Maybe they sincerely think that nincompoops like me agree that anybody who has a car that nice certainly deserves to park closer to the door than elderly people with disabilities.

UNANSWERABLE QUESTION OF THE MONTH 3

If a company markets a snack cracker using the slogan "the perfect cracker for any situation," do they not hurt their credibility by also selling any other sort of cracker?

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THE FATHER AND THE SON

The little guy stood in front of the crowd looking adorable, handsome, confident and uneasy all at the same time. Four classes of third-graders squirmed in the front rows of the large room, with assorted family members and teachers scattered behind. The third grade spelling bee had dwindled down to my son Jacob and three other kids. I was a wreck.

The funny thing is that I am truly not one of "those" dads who cannot be happy unless his son is victorious. I have coached Jacob's teams for years in soccer and basketball and can honestly say that I have never cared if we won or lost (and I'm sure our record would bear this out if I had actually kept track of it). If the kids have fun playing the game and all end up leaving with the same families that brought them, I'm happy. Sure, I get a mild case of nerves on occasion when Jacob is out on the field, but nothing like this spelling bee.

Beforehand I thought it would just be cute to watch. I was so proud he made the finals (ahem, for the third straight year) that I was just happy to be there. Yet, my stomach tightened as the rounds went by and the twelve finalists shrunk to four. I would relax momentarily as he successfully completed each word, but the tension just kept building back up until his turn came again. Suddenly, Jacob's mouth got a little ahead of his brain and he skipped a letter in a word he knew how to spell. He immediately realized what he did and started walking off the stage even as he finished spelling it. He sat down by his teacher and his eyes welled up with tears.

I wanted to t-h-r-o-w u-p.

In no way was I upset that he had made a mistake, but I felt awful because of how disappointed he was. I think it would have been easier for him to accept if he'd just missed a word he didn't know instead of making a mistake. Maybe this scene was agonizing because of the way the pressure in the room had built throughout the contest, such that this was way more intense for him than, say, missing a lay-up in basketball. Maybe it was because although Jacob is a pretty good athlete, he's never been the fastest, tallest, strongest, etc. in his class, and he viewed this as his moment to shine. He's somewhat of a pessimist (and I can't imagine where he gets that trait), but I think he really expected to win that spelling bee. I guess a combination of all these affected us both.

I knew that children would bring all kinds of new emotions into my life, but I had no clue as to their intensity. Empathy is a powerful thing. The night after our daughter Shelby graduated from her pacifier she awoke very late at night. I went in to console her since her beloved "ba-ba" was gone forever. Through sleepy tears she looked at me with what may well have been the saddest face in the history of mankind. Intellectually I knew she would simply have to cope. Emotionally I was willing to crawl to the nearest Wal-Mart to buy her a new ba-ba that instant. I would have bought them all so she could have had her pick. I simply cannot describe how much I love these kids. (Maybe that's something you learn to do in writer college, but I assure you we did not discuss it in engineer college. We were too busy doing math and not going on dates).

A few years ago, I went into Jacob's room to check on him before I went to bed. I looked at him sleeping there, so innocent, and started thinking about things a parent should never think. I had recently heard about a young child in town that had been diagnosed with a serious illness, perhaps life-threatening. My heart ached at the mere thought that something so awful could possibly happen to Jacob.

An inspiration struck, and I immediately offered God a deal. Certain kinds of pain and suffering are a necessary part of growing up, but I told God that if anything like that other child's illness was in Jacob's future, I wanted Him to simply give it to me instead. "Just give me any of the really bad stuff he may have coming to him," I prayed. "Please let me take his place."

It was the most Christ-like impulse I have ever had.

My love for my son and daughter gives me a taste of how much God loves me. And you.

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Copyright (c) 2006 by Mark Alan Stuart. All rights reserved.

The Ark of Mark is a periodic online Christian humor column. For contact information, or to join or escape the mailing list, please visit www.thearkofmark.com.