My oldest daughter is quite an intense young lady. She is seriously in love with all things learning, and fortunately learning comes rather easily to her. I admire her from afar and wonder if we have very much in common at all because I can't recall what I was like at that age, except that I did love me a good grade or two.
So last year, in 5th grade, when their class was asked to write a 5-paragraph essay on any topic for a district competition, she thought about it intently for awhile, going back and forth on what the audience would enjoy, what she would enjoy, what could fit into five paragraphs and the three-minute time frame, which is in my opinion a dreadful format but the one required in this situation.
She decided to "save" her favored topic, classical education, for 6th grade so that she could showcase it at district and, in her limited mind's eye, evangelize the public school crowd about the merits of the classical approach. Instead, her speech for that year was entitled "Three Typical Recurring Themes in Disney Princess Movies," which was a breakdown of the consistently missing parent and other pretty deep motifs. She figured it would be intellectual yet entertain the kindergarten crowd at the same time. In the candy pink fluff of Disney princess, she wrapped quite a meaty meal.
So when this year's competition rolled around, she was a loaded gun, having thought about her "classical education" speech for a full 365 days with a brimming eagerness that I think (mother's opinion here) is her trademark. She read some tough material in the research stage, only to write and rewrite it multiple times. The challenge: to fit a very complicated subject into a mere 3 minutes. It's tougher than one might think. And I suspect that while she crafted an excellent speech, she came under the duress of the strict time limit when competition day dawned, and alas, "Classical Education: The Brain Trainer" came in third in our school behind the winning speech, a magic-themed effort entitled "Abracadabra". No opportunity to take it to the "masses" at the district level. The eagerness crushed, the spirit doused as the road led to a dead end.
When I say there were tears, I mean THERE WERE TEARS. On and on and on. She wanted to win for all the right reasons, and when she didn't, she really couldn't reconcile the loss in her mind. Didn't God want people to know about this amazing system that honors our minds as "fearfully and wonderfully made?" "Why put in the work and see it not pay off?" She begged me for an answer. And the heartwrenching question lingering in her mind: "If God put this desire in my heart a year ago, why did it come to nothing in the end?"
Ah, the age old question. Why, God, why?
There is a happy ending to these mama ramblings. Our school's open house was this week, and she was asked to deliver her competition speech before a near-full house. And, conveniently, because of the original parameters, it spanned merely three minutes--just the right amount of time. We had a whole bunch of new families visiting the school that night, in addition to a majority of our current parents. It was an important and sort of magical moment.
She rose to the occasion, walking up to the microphone in her navy blazer and pleated plaid skirt without a nervous bone in her body. The speech was a rousing success. Seeds were planted. People laughed, they engaged, one or two were possibly humbled that a 12 year old understood and could confidently articulate the very thing they were trying to learn about by coming that night.
Even if one mind or heart was moved, it was more meaningful and effective than giving it before a dry crowd of fellow competitors and their nervous parents at any competition because, on this night, the words went out, sunk in, and took root in listening hearts. The act, caliber, and delivery of the speech itself was a testament to the effectiveness of the very classical education she described.
I am thankful that my Intense One received such an early and powerful life lesson about how God's plan for her is often going to be different than the plan she anticipates, but that it's important to trust that He "who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think" (Eph 3:20) WILL ACTUALLY DO IT according to his own perfect timing and design. The key, I told her, is to be willing---for instance, to take a year-long desire, put the necessary hours of work and brain power into the effort, and focus on creating excellence. Without knowing the future, she must come to the place she is called with preparation, eagerness, and best efforts. That is always going to be her role. The results or how He uses the fruits of her labor are out of her hands, but through faith she will consistently find that His purpose will always be far greater than anything she might hope for or imagine.
The point is not to desire her efforts to be honored, but to focus on bringing Him honor by her efforts. Amen.
I caught the moment with my smartphone from the back, so the audio is low and the lighting is bad, but if you'd like to hear the actual speech, it's worth a three-minute listen to "Classical Education: The Brain Trainer" by Madeleine Roberts. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QV3Ns8e4JAE
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