My dad is really good at math. Like can-do-it-in-his-head good. And of course he is--he's an engineer. I, on the other hand, am not cut out for the subject. And it shows when I have to calculate grades. When I was little, daddy would try to help me with my math homework. It usually didn't turn out too well. I didn't understand the material so I would get really frustrated, and then he would get frustrated with me because he didn't understand why I didn't understand. But there's one particular homework that I still remember.
In elementary school, every class would learn to count to 100 and then we would throw a big party. Well, of course, after we learn to count to 100 we continue on. I had brought home this homework, moving on from just 100, but little me couldn't wrap my head around what came after 100. To me, it was 200. My logic was simple for a child: 2 is after 1, so 200 must come after 100.
My dad kept asking me: "what comes after one?"
"Two!" I would yell.
His response: "No."
And I just kept repeating that 1 does come after 2. At some point, I ended up beginning to cry, and I stomped up to my room and curled on my bed. My mom explained to my dad that I didn't understand what he was asking because my logic was different.
Honestly, I don't remember what happened in between, but I remember daddy coming up to my room and the lightbulb eventually going off in my head.
. . . . . .
I passed a sticker on a truck today for the 101st Airborne and, though a particular person passed through my mind first (for unrelated reasons, really), this instance of doing math with my dad followed quickly. And for some reason I just thought: "if he had said what comes after zero, maybe I would have understood it quicker."
My point is that we all see things in this world differently. We come to our conclusions in different ways. Sometimes we can take a "shortcut," and sometimes we can't. Because we all have different ways of understanding, it means we have to be patient with others when they don't see things the way we do or understand things as quickly as we might.
I recently wrote a post about how we cannot place our expectations on someone else. This is similar--we cannot expect others to comprehend or process in the same manner, or even the same pace, as we might.
Sometimes--like in the above instance with my dad--we need to walk away from the situation, take a breather, and then come at it from a different angle. It may take time to come to a solution. What's important is that you are eventually on the same page. It doesn't necessarily matter how you get there.
Daddy has taught me a lot of lessons, and he may not even know it. Heck, I didn't even realize this was a lesson until this afternoon. And then it hit me. He may not have meant to do it, but he taught me something that resounds through the years.
. . . . . .
I don't know why this came to me so suddenly today or why it resonated with me so much. I do feel, though, that it came at this time for a reason. This knowledge wouldn't have served me well as a child because I wouldn't have understood it, and it wouldn't have been relevant even a year ago because I hadn't grown in the way I have now.
Maybe it came to me now because God has a plan for it.
And that's the thing: God has solutions for every problem we encounter. But sometimes we are too busy yelling "logic" and "reasoning" and "reality" at Him to really hear what He is trying to tell us.
Maybe what He is telling me now is to be patient and start simple. And for once in my life, I am content with that solution.