GAIL WHITE Late in the game and temptation is winning; can you pull it out?

I believe a person's true character is displayed best in response to the little things.
We have a pretty cut-and-dried handle on big matters of right and wrong, good and bad.
But it is in those little, seemingly insignificant, unimportant instances in life that the true test of character lies.
I encountered a character test earlier this school year. It impacted me greatly, partly because my failure at this test would have sent a negative message to my children and partly because I was astounded at how tempting this "little, insignificant" instance was for me.
It was a school project that I was certain was going to push me over the edge.
The newest assignment
I had just endured a month of poster boards spread over every inch of table space in the house. There were posters about "Me," posters inventing a product, posters about earthquakes and famous authors and historical events.
Finally clear of the clutter and the constant, "Mom, where is the glue?" and "Do we have any more red construction paper?" I was looking forward to a project-free period.
Then my fourth-grader brought home his newest assignment -- the ancestor poster project.
"Make a poster of a country of your ancestry. Include a picture of the country, details of its industry and landforms, describe its customs and traditions."
Reading the form, my legs turned to jelly. As I slumped into a chair, the children looked at me wondering if they should call 911.
"I can't take another project!" I wailed pathetically. The boys looked sympathetic and concerned.
"Can't you just talk about a country?" I asked in pain. "Can't you read a book about it?"
Andrew cautiously laid the project criteria down on the table. Weakly, I picked it up.
A light went off in my head.
Temptation
I knew these instructions. I had seen them before. My mind raced for recollection. Yes!
"Phillip, go to the coat closet in the livingroom," he was off before I finished my sentence.
He returned holding a poster he had made last year with a large picture of Germany in the middle. Little photos jutted from all sides, with neatly written details under each one. It was very well done.
Andrew began jumping up and down. "Yes! Yes!" he beamed. "I'm done! I'm done!"
My mind was racing with rationalizations. So many projects. ... So little time. ... What's the difference. ... Dumb old ancestry project. ...
To make matters worse, the grade for Phillip's poster had been placed on a ribbon-shaped piece of construction paper taped to the poster. Andrew quickly removed the ribbon. There were no other markings on the poster.
Andrew turned the poster around and, low and behold, Phillip had written his name on the back -- in pencil.
My rationalization machine was in overtime. What are the chances of that?... Pretty weird, no markings, written in pencil. ... The word, "Done, Done, Done" kept playing over in my mind.
I felt like a character in one of those cartoons with the angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. The devil definitely had my ear.
I looked at my children, all smiling devilishly. (Why do they ALL have to be around when I am losing a character battle?)
"No, No, No!" I yelled. "We cannot do this!"
The right decision
Andrew did not submit Phillip's Germany poster. In fact, I made him choose another country. (I did not want to be tempted again during inevitable hardships with the project.)
His project on Scotland garnered him an A and, quite honestly, we had fun doing it.
"Why didn't you let me turn in the other poster?" he asked later, even though he knew the answer.
"I have done enough bad in my life," I told him frankly. "When I get to heaven, I don't want to have to give an account of why I allowed my son to cheat on a silly, little poster project."
I'm pretty sure rationalizations don't fly in heaven.
gwhite@vindy.com