Sunday, May 28, 2017

The Pencil

Remember back in elementary school learning to write? We had those really fat pencils that were supposedly easier to work with. As we got older, we worked with the good ol’ Number 2. That lasted until somebody invented the mechanical pencil.

I never liked working with a pencil. Never, to this day. I didn’t like the scratchy sound. I didn’t like having to sharpen it, grinding away in the pencil sharpener over the garbage can by the door. Sometimes getting the point to pointy so it would break at the slightest pressure, and then having to sharpen it once again.

Worse, I hated the eraser, especially when it got so low, I would sometimes scratch the paper with the metal eraser holder on the end of the pen. When that happened, sure shootin’, a hole would end up in the paper I’d be working on. Hated that.

Kim, Emily and I visited James Madison’s home, Montpelier, yesterday. It’s about a thirty minute drive from our house through horse country, vineyards and farm land. We learned that among other things, Madison spoke, read and wrote in seven languages. He framed the constitution using ink on a turkey quill. He took notes at the constitutional convention with the same.

I was a ball point pen guy. Medium tip. I like the feel of it as it slid across the paper. Now, I sit in the family room with my trusty laptop and peck away. So much easier, especially for a lousy speller like me. Spell Check is my best friend.

I came across this from one of my heroes, Mother Teresa. She is quoted as saying, “I'm a little pencil in the hand of a writing God, who is sending a love letter to the world.”

Think about that for a moment: “. . . a pencil in the hand of God . . .”

It takes a great deal of faith and a great deal of humbleness to say something like that. To know one’s purpose. To be that purpose.

Made me think . . .

The first thought is, if I’m a pencil, whose hand am I in? I certainly hope it’s God’s hand. I certainly try to be. If I can bring someone happiness, someone peace, someone joy, then I think I served a pretty fair purpose. As I said, I try, and that’s all one can do I suppose.

The second thought is, our children- our own, those we teach, those we come in contact with- if they are the pencil in our hands, what are we having them write?

Are they writing a note of love to the world, as Mother Teresa states, or are they writing something else? Something quite the opposite?

Heady thought, isn’t it?
We have so much power in our hands. Our children can be, and mostly are, the pencils in our hands. It is us . . . each of us . . . who provide them the words to their note. It is us . . . you and I who show them how to act, how to react, and what to think.

Our children . . . our own and the children we teach and come into contact with . . . have so much better radar than we give them credit for. They are perceptive to pick up the slightest nuances of our tone, our word choice, the expression on our face, our eyes. They are sensitive enough to recognize what is in our heart . . . yours and mine.

What is it they are writing? What kind of note to our world? Their world? Something to think 
about . . .

To My Readers:

I finished my fifth work of thriller/suspense fiction, Caught in a Web and I’ll keep you posted as to when it will be published.

Please feel free to connect with me at:

Twitter at @jrlewisauthor

Facebook at:                        

Amazon at:                 

If you like Thriller/Suspense fiction, check out my novels:

Available on Amazon for .99 the Lives Trilogy Prequel, Taking Lives:
FBI Agent Pete Kelliher and his partner search for the clues behind the bodies of six boys left in various and remote parts of the country. Even though they don’t know one another, the lives of FBI Agent Kelliher and two boys become interwoven with the same thread that Pete Kelliher holds in his hand. The three of them are on a collision course and when that happens, their lives are in jeopardy as each search for a way out.

Stolen Lives, Book One of the Lives Trilogy:
Two thirteen year old boys are abducted off a safe suburban street. Kelliher and his team of FBI agents have 24 hours to find them or they’ll end up like all the others- dead! They have no leads, no clues, and nothing to go on. And the possibility exists that one of his team members might be involved.

Shattered Lives, Book Two of the Lives Trilogy:
Six men escaped and are out for revenge. The boys, recently freed from captivity, are in danger and so are their families, but they don’t know it. The FBI has no clues, no leads, and nothing to go on and because of that, cannot protect them.

Splintered Lives, Book Three of the Lives Trilogy:
It began in Arizona with death and it ends in Arizona in death. A 14 year old boy has a price on his head, but he and his family don’t know it. Their family vacation turns into a trip to hell. Out gunned and outnumbered, can this boy protect his father and brothers? Without knowing who these men are? Or how many there are? Or when they might come for him?

No comments:

Post a Comment

Thank you for your comment. I welcome your thought. Joe