Speaking of suffering . . .

Luke made a 50 on his AR test today. Apparently, he picked a book with three stories, read the first one, then headed to the computer to take his test. He answered the questions from the first story correctly, then missed all the rest.

And it ruined his day.

It ruined the morning, it ruined recess, it ruined the afternoon. When I picked him up for school, he didn't want to play on the playground or go to the library like he usually begs to do.

He slumped to the van; I trotted behind him, asking if everything was ok. He mumbled, "It's fine, Mom. Really."

Then the 50 on the test ruined the ride home, the late afternoon, and the early evening. It wasn't until later tonight that he confessed to his dad what had happened. When he realized that it really WAS NOT the end of the world, he brightened considerably.

Boy, oh boy.

On my end of things, I'm thinking, "Good grief! Doesn't he know that this really isn't a big deal? Doesn't he know he will take thousands of these tests before this AR thing is all over? Doesn't he realize that, in the big picture of his life, this is less than tiny? Even in the big picture of 1st grade, this doesn't really have LASTING consequences."

But isn't that the way of it for all of us? It is for me.

The least sign that I'm failing, that I've made a mistake, big or small, and I resign myself to a life of failure. I assume that my error, mistake, or sin is weighty enough to have ruined my life, or the life of someone else. The mistake doesn't have to be huge. But I will let it ruin my: morning, my afternoon, my evening, and all the fun "recess" periods in between.

It would be better if I looked at the bigger picture more often.

Jana