When I was younger, I often heard, “You’ll understand when you have children of you’re own.” I’ve now heard myself say the same thing. At the same time, I wonder…I’ll understand what? That I’m more confused than ever? That I realize how much I don’t know?

 Truth be told, I think we understand as much as we seek and want to understand. I know people who don’t have their own children who have more insight than some who do. And I know some parents whose children are “the exception” – for good or for bad – so no advice or general guidelines apply. Nothing you can suggest will help in a situation because “you just don’t understand.”

We’re limited in our understanding. We’re humans. So why would we further limit ourselves by refusing to try to understand? Or, at the other extreme, why do we assume because we have a small amount of understanding, we completely understand something, which qualifies us to give advice and recommendations as an expert?

On a trip to the mountains with several upper elementary girls, I experienced their curiosity to understand. Their object of understanding? Poo. Several of the girls had been raised on farms, and they knew poo, but this poo was different. So they began to identify poo. When they’d find unfamiliar poo, they’d gather hints until they could conclude what animal left the poo behind.

I decided to have some fun with their curiosity. During a hiking break in an area we were exploring for the first time, I discreetly place the Tootsie Rolls I’d molded into a pile resembling poo onto a rock. I excitedly called the girls over to the rock to examine the unidentified poo.

After their bewildered responses, I told them I’d been talking to the ranger the day before, and she said if you can’t identify the poo by looking at it, you should smell it. The girls responded with variations of “eeewww, grrooosssss!” as I leaned over the poo.

“I can’t tell what it is. But the ranger said if smelling it didn’t work, pick it up and check the weight and texture.” More responses of disgust as I picked up the poo. And finally: “Well, I still can’t tell what it is. The ranger said as a last resort, the only way to tell what kind of poo it is – is to taste it.”

“NNNOOOOOOO!” as I popped a piece of poo in my mouth.

“Hmm. Tastes like…Tootsie Rolls!”

After a few giggles, of course, the girls wanted to eat the Tootsie Rolls, which I personally thought was gross, since I’d handled them and had carried them in my pocket for hours.

When have you trusted the information someone gave you and later found out it wasn’t true?

When have you had an “a-ha” moment, when understanding clicked into place for you?

Watch for an a-ha moment each day of this week. Jot down any time you learn something new, find out something you thought was inaccurate (and replace it with accurate information), or connect several pieces to gain understanding.

Help me understand, so I can keep your teachings, obeying them with all my heart. Psalm 119:34