“Mom, I’m the Super Student in my class this week,” my then-10-year-old son, Nathan, told me one Sunday night. “I need to make a poster and bring photos of our family to school.”

“You need this for tomorrow?” I asked.

He nodded.

I glanced at the clock and sighed. “Why did you wait until almost bedtime to tell me about this?”

He just shrugged. “I forgot.”

“Nathan, you need to be more responsible.”

Poster Prep

I fought irritation. Digging through photos and making a poster wasn’t what I’d planned to do with the remainder of my evening. Then I had an even worse thought.

“What do you need to make the poster?” I asked. If I have to run to the store for this, I’m not going to be happy, I thought.

“My teacher gave me the Super Student poster board,” he said. “I just need some markers to fill it out.”

He showed me a poster with spaces for him to draw pictures and answer questions. He needed to draw a picture of our family, including our pets. He needed to write down his favourite colour, favourite hobbies and favourite foods.

I examined the poster, feeling relieved.

“This shouldn’t take too long. Why don’t you start working on this while I look for the pictures you need?”

He nodded. “That sounds good.” He grabbed his favourite colour marker—orange—and started to write down his favourite food—pizza.

I went upstairs to look for photos. When I returned with a few, Nathan was almost finished with the poster. He’d drawn a picture of his favourite movie—Star Wars—and one of him playing his favourite sport—soccer.

The last item on the poster was a statement: “Something you might not know about me is ….”

Nathan’s answer: I am a Christain.

What will his teacher think when she sees it? I thought. She’ll think I’m a bad mom. DIANE STARK

Opportune Reminder

I sighed. Nathan had misspelled the word Christian in orange marker on the poster that would hang in his classroom for the entire week. What will his teacher think when she sees it? I thought. She’ll think I didn’t care enough about his project to help him with it. She’ll think I’m a bad mom.

I didn’t want to hurt Nathan’s feelings, so I smiled. “It’s good, Buddy,” I said, but my voice lacked its usual enthusiasm.

The next day, Nathan took his poster and family photos to school. When he arrived home that afternoon, he could hardly contain himself.

“Mom, my teacher hung up my poster and my pictures, and everyone in the class looked at them. And then at recess, Matthew asked me what it means to be a Christian.” He smiled. “I told him that I spelled it wrong, but that it means to ask Jesus into your life and follow Him.”

“You said that? That’s wonderful!” I said.

He nodded. “Matthew’s family doesn’t go to church, but he asked it he could go with us sometime because he really wants to find out more about Jesus.”

“I’m so proud of you. And, of course, Matthew can come to church with us. Let’s invite him to spend the night next weekend.”

Nathan smiled. “I’ll ask him tomorrow.”

I rubbed his back. “You are a Super Student, and I really am proud of you.”

“Even though I misspelled Christian? I could tell it bothered you.”

“I’m a writer,” I replied, “so misspellings bother me more than they do most people. But I should have just been proud of you for being brave enough to write that on your poster, no matter how you spelled it. I’m sorry for that.”

“That’s OK.”

“No, it’s not,” I said. “I was focused on the wrong thing. I messed up, Bud.”

He smiled. “I messed up on my poster, but Matthew still asked me about Jesus.”

I looked at my boy, thankful for his bravery and for the reminder that God can use our imperfect efforts—at spelling and at parenting—for His good.