Missing the Race

If you’ve been a boy mom for any length of time, chances are you’ve been involved in Scouting in some way. And if you’ve been involved in Scouts, you know that the Pinewood Derby always shows up right at the beginning of the year.
For us, it’s been a staple.
We’ve done every design imaginable. Every shape. Every weight trick. Every creative idea the boys could dream up. We’ve sanded, painted, puttied, and polished. We’ve won awards, placed in the top spots more times than I can count, and gone on to district races year after year. All the cars are lined up on display — tiny wooden reminders of time, effort, and boyhood.
This year was our last.

My youngest will age out of Cub Scouts and move into Boy Scouts in less than a month, and this felt like the final chapter of a long, familiar story. He designed a super-cool pencil-shaped car — literally called "The Pointless Pencil" — with '2B - or not 2B' written down the top side. It was clever. It was fast. It was very him.
In all these years of building cars, we’d managed to survive with no injuries.
Until now.
Somewhere in the process, the wood kicked back and claimed the tip of my husband’s finger to the table saw. Blood, sweat, and tears isn’t just a phrase this time — it’s literal. We are praising the Lord that he gets to keep his finger and that it’s healing well, but still… not exactly how you picture wrapping up your final Pinewood Derby season.

When race day came, our schedule was tight. We carved out just enough time to be there and then head on to the next obligation. When we arrived, we were told the tracks weren’t working and the race was rescheduled for the following weekend.
Disappointing — but okay.
We got back in the car and headed on to our next thing.
About forty minutes later, just as we were almost there, the messages started coming in:
They fixed the tracks.
They were racing shortly.

There was no time to turn around. We missed it. And that’s the part that stuck with me. My youngest didn’t just miss racing a cool car — he missed his last race.
And my husband, who had poured literal blood into this build, didn’t get to see how it would measure up or feel the excitement of watching the lever be released heat after heat as his car was cheered on by the rest of his den mates. 
The car took second in the pack and will move on to district races later this spring. But because we weren’t there, it went home with someone else… and came back to us with a broken wheel. So not only did we miss the race — we inherited the aftermath.

Sitting with all of that, I couldn’t help but think:
How often does this happen in life?
How often do we pour ourselves into something — prayer, counseling, relationships, parenting, ministry — giving it everything we have… and never get to see the end result? How often do we do the work, but miss the moment of celebration? Or don’t get the closure? Or don’t get the neat ending?

Scripture tells us:
“Whatever you do, work at it with all your heart, as working for the Lord, not for human masters.”
— Colossians 3:23
And also:
“Let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us.”
— Hebrews 12:1

Notice what those verses don’t promise applause. They don’t promise timing that makes sense. They don’t promise we’ll be there for the highlight reel.

They just call us to run our race — faithfully, fully, even when we don’t get to stand at the finish line.

Life isn’t linear. Things are happening all around us that shape outcomes we’ll never fully see. Some parts we witness. Some parts we miss. Some parts we’re only left to steward after the fact.

Was the Pointless Pencil pointless?
No.

It did exactly what it was meant to do. And maybe that’s the truth. 
Sometimes obedience looks like building the car. Sometimes faithfulness looks like missing the race. And sometimes the reward comes later — in a different place, on a different track, in a season we haven’t reached yet.

Where might God be calling you to stay faithful — even if you don’t get to see the result right away... Or trusting Him with the possibility of never?


Lord, help me trust that the work I do for You is never wasted — even when I don’t get to see the outcome. Teach me to run my race with faithfulness, not for recognition, and to leave the results in Your hands. And thank you for when you pull back the curtain and let me see what you're actually doing or take part in crossing the finish line.  Amen.


Until next time, keep following the Plott, and I will be praying for us all. 💛

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

My Mountain Mover

Image
Several years ago, I was diagnosed with a benign brain tumor called a meningioma. Usually, these are harmless and removed. Mine, however, decided to settle down in a place that surgeons don’t really want to visit. So the plan became simple: Wait and see. Every year, I would go for another MRI. Every year, the report would come back with phrases like: “Minimal growth.” “Insignificant change.” After enough years of hearing those words, it became strangely normal and routine. Even comforting. Just another thing tucked into the background of life. Until this year. This year, the growth itself was still considered minimal… but the direction of growth was not. It has started creeping toward the central blood vessel running through the spinal cord. And suddenly “wait and see” became: “It’s time to do something.” What’s interesting is the treatment itself. You can’t really shrink it. You can’t safely remove it. And because of where it’s located, any symptoms or damage it causes would become p...
Read more

A Flock of Our Own

Today was a big day on the Plott farm — the kind of day that hums with excitement and smells like hay and fresh beginnings. We brought home three new sheep — 2 year-old ewes and 1 ram — rescued from a nearby herd. They were headed for slaughter, but instead, they came home with us — hand picked  — chosen! What was a terrifying day for them was, in truth, a day of salvation. The truck ride was bumpy, the new pen unfamiliar, and their wide eyes and quiet stares said it all — fear, confusion, and uncertainty. But what they didn’t know is that they were being rescued. They were being set apart for something better. They were being saved to start a new flock.  It struck me in that moment how much we’re like those sheep. We cling to what’s familiar — our routines, our habits, even the things that hold us back — because they feel safe. We resist the unknown, not realizing that sometimes God is leading us away from what’s comfortable so He can bring us into something better....
Read more

Everyday Disagreements & the Choice for Peace

If you’ve ever lived in a house full of boys, you know that disagreements aren’t rare — they’re part of the daily soundtrack. From who left the shoes in the doorway, to who ate the last snack, to why chores never seem to get done on time, conflict has a way of slipping into even the best days. It’s easy to let pride take the wheel in those moments. Pride says: “I need to be right.” Pride says, “They need to see it my way.” Pride says, “I deserve the last word.” However, the truth is that pride doesn’t build families. Peace does.  Scripture reminds us: “If it is possible, as far as it depends on you, live at peace with everyone.” – Romans 12:18  Peace means stepping back long enough to ask: “What matters more — being right, or being together?” In a family, the choice is almost always together. Choosing peace doesn’t mean ignoring problems or letting wrongs slide. It means addressing them with patience, humility, and a heart that values relationship over being “the winner.” In ...
Read more