Sunday School

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Cael Gable
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Joined: Mon May 03, 2021 4:09 pm

Sunday School

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SUNDAY SCHOOL

My grandfather was the wisest man I ever knew.

Before he passed, he made sure to pass on as many lessons as he could to me.

His favorite day to teach me was Sunday.

After he and my grandmother took me to church to receive the lord's lesson, he took me to the track to learn about life.

Being in the heart of Indiana, there was always some sort of race to watch.

Be it on the dirt tracks where kids richer than me took their first left turn or the speedway where legends are made, my grandfather always had a classroom.

His first lesson was about how you win a race and as I got older, I realized it was about life in general. 

He had me sit down and pick a driver I thought I was going to win.

Knowing nothing, I pointed to the driver with the fanciest car.

My grandfather chuckled and said "he's not even in the race. That's a man who cares about how he looks to the world instead of what he brings to it."

That's you Nigel Royal, like him, you can look the part but both you and I know, even when you look like a king, this isn't where you belong.

He had me choose another guy. Since we just got out of church, I pointed to the guy with crosses on his car.

My grandfather smiled but went, "I wish that's how things worked but you can plaster a cross on you and shout to the heavens all you want, God won't make you a better driver."

He won't make you a better wrestler either, Sanctus.

I kept guessing, I pointed to Dale Earnhardt Jr.

After all, his dad was great.

My grandfather was always quick to remind me his old man was always better than Junior.

So is yours, Jessie. 

I kept pointing to anyone who caught my attention but my Grandfather explained why I was wrong every time.

Eventually, I pointed to the guy who had been winning race after race seemingly with zero effort.

My grandfather nodded and said that was my best guess so far but he told me to look closer at the man.

Upon further inspection, everything was a facade.

Despite his cool demeanor, the laps had taken a toll on him. He was jittery, always looking over his shoulder. He freaked out when anyone got close to his car. After all, it had become an extension of him.

Once my grandfather knew I saw what was going on, he pointed me to his pick.

His pick was a veteran who had been to this place countless times. He knew this track better than anyone else. He also knew how to bide his time and wait for the perfect moment to pass.

Once zero effort turned to zero gas left in the tank, the veteran took his shot, passed the man who had been so dominant and left him behind like a soldier who couldn't go on.

My grandfather was right as always as winning in life isn't about outrunning your enemies Zero, it's about outlasting them.

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