My wife has been trying to teach our four year old son Jonathan to write his name. To make the task a little less intimidating, she has started with just the first three letters, Jon, since that’s what we often call him.

Today as I was working in the office, Jonathan came in to proudly show me that he had written his name, JON. “Look dad,” he called, rather pleased with himself. Then he read what he had written – “Jon” (pointing to the ‘J’) – “Na” (pointing to the ‘O’) – “Than” (pointing to the ‘N’).

I was, of course, very pleased with his efforts and congratulated him on doing such a good job.

I wonder how often I have been, and still am, just like that—thinking that I’ve got it all figured out, that I’ve got it right, when really I need to go back and learn the ABCs. And I think of how often my heavenly Father is infinitely merciful and patient with me, and even proud of me, because I’m his son and because being right isn’t always the most important thing, but my relationship with Him is.

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