“Could you sharpen these pencils?” my daughter’s teacher asked as she walked out of the classroom door. I’d offered my time on a Tuesday morning to help her in any way she needed: filing, stapling and today, sharpening pencils.
I thought about my childhood pencil sharpener as I listened to the WHIRR of the electric one.
My father had bolted it to the inside of a cabinet in our kitchen.
I’d sit at the table doing homework and wear down that pencil to a blunt edge. And because the pencil felt heavy in my hand with a dulled end, I’d scoot my chair out, open the cupboard, and switch the hand-cranked sharpener to the right-sized opening.
I would crunch the wood and taper the tip with each rotation so that graphite dust and pine shavings would collect on the shelf beneath the sharpener.
The whole cabinet smelled hard and bitter like cut wood, but familiar.
Pencils are a sought-after commodity in the second grade classroom. Everything is written in pencil because at eight-years-old, the eraser is almost as important as the tip.
I finished the sharpening and placed the pencils tip-up in a cup.
Even her teacher, who’s been teaching for many years, writes everything in pencil, I thought as I filed student work in folders with their names written in the teacher’s practiced cursive across the tab.
Taylor
Madison
Hope
Michael
All written in pencil so that it could be erased for next year’s second graders. And beneath the collection of this year’s names I saw the erased words from last year: Julianna, Audrey, Jackson.
Pencils. So easy to come by and so easy to erase.
I realized as I looked at Hope’s name, difficult to read over the name that had been erased from the previous class, that there are places where our names our never erased.
In our families. In the hearts of our friends.
My name is written, as permanent as a tattoo, in the life of my husband, my daughters, my own mother.
My name isn’t erased in the life of someone that I’ve told the truth to. It isn’t erased in the heart of someone I’ve wounded.
Our names are written in un-eraseable ink on the mind of God, in the narrative of this world, in God’s story. It isn’t erased because it cannot be erased.
Our names and our lives are indelible. They aren’t easily replaced like the penciled-in name at the top of a file folder. We aren’t disposable and we aren’t forgettable.
Each one of us.
We are worth the permanence of His ink, His blood.
Knowing that we must treat others as if they are written in ink and not in graphite: important, memorable and ingrained into the fabric of the world’s story just as we’ve been written indelibly on the heart of God.
What do you think? What does it take to make you feel this way?
It takes one second to feel that way! Oh the importance of a soul! The love that God gives us to give out! It’s safe and secure with the indelible ink! I’m assured any one I meet with can have peace, love and joy and we don’t have to live in the daunting, haunting past hurt, abuse or pain! It’s so amazingly incredible! As the song says “What can wash away our sins, nothing but the blood……” Great post! thanks!
you’re right. just a second. just a word (the right one) to someone else can make them feel eternal. well said, carol.
Sarah, I loved this. Because of this post, I will choose my words and actions more wisely today … knowing that I am writing in ink on the lives I touch today.
This makes me feel significant. It makes me feel loved. That I’m not a bunch of erasable characters that God can erase because I messed up. As Aine also pointed out, it should cause me to choose my words more carefully. To speak in words of love and forgiveness rather than anger and bitterness.
‘My name isn’t erased in the life of someone that I’ve told the truth to. It isn’t erased in the heart of someone I’ve wounded.’
That is so true and hit me quite hard. I can only hope my name is not etched in pain on those I have hurt but rather it becomes a faint scar on their heart. Sometimes I wish the hurt I cause can be erased, forgotten, undone. But I know it can’t be and I must sit in that and own it. And ask for forgiveness.
I just came across your blog the other day and *love* it. I have two toddlers, and the lifelong impression I am making on them is on my mind every day. And I am so thankful that I am able to teach them that they are “written indelibly on the heart of God” as you wrote. Thank you for the reminder that I cannot be erased, and neither will they…
welcome, kristin. thank you for commenting! =)
Sarah,
I love reading your blog. We have a lot in common. I am grateful my name is written in blood. Grateful for the assurance that to God I am just that special.
Kristin
“My name isn’t erased in the life of someone that I’ve told the truth to. It isn’t erased in the heart of someone I’ve wounded.”
Sarah, you do an unbelievably marvelous job of connecting the mundane with the sublime, of seeing God in everything, and of helping us to see Him too.
Your writing is a breath of fresh air every morning!
wow, thank you so much FW.
I don’t know what it takes for me to feel that my name is written in ink rather than pencil, but I can think of two separate instances at church when I felt that way. Most recently, we had a potluck and one of the ladies asked about my dish. MY dish. She wanted the recipe to the dish that I HAD BROUGHT. I finally felt like I belonged. Simple really. But I felt like I was wanted and valued and would be missed.
it says something, that something so seemingly small can make someone feel so loved. it’s beautiful. and it convicts me too. that i need to be much more intentional with my words, actions, etc. thank you for sharing this. =)
I think this is one of your best posts. It’s fresh, new, not only can I see everything but feel and smell it all… to me that’s good writting!
wow, jordan. thank you!
and yes, the smell of pencils sharpening is an oddly comforting smell to me. =)
For years, I felt as if my name was written in graphite. I felt so incredibly insignificant and treated others as if they were disposable, having no idea the permanence of my name…my name in their memory, my name being attached to everything that I do. Only in finding Christ did I realize that He knows me by name and if the King knows my intimately by name, how permanent my name must be, written in His book.
i love this. you are permanent. we all are. and what an amazing thing!!
It makes me stop and think before I speak or do something. Thanks for this humbling post! I needed it.
I love this. So poignant and so easily forgotten. We all need to be reminded of the importance of this truth.
AMEN!
Jeremiah says God writes our names on His hand!
love you,
dad
First of all…I think it’s so cool that your dad reads your blog.
Secondly, I love how you see things. I don’t know that I could have gotten all this just from sharpening some pencils. What am I supposed to be seeing while I’m printing right now, or when I change my baby’s diaper later. God uses such everyday things in your life to inspire you with eternal ideas.
Thanks for sharing this, and writing it so beautifully! I always enjoy reading what you have to say.
Melissa
“Knowing that we must treat others as if they are written in ink and not in graphite: important, memorable and ingrained into the fabric of the world’s story just as we’ve been written indelibly on the heart of God.” I really love this thought. I’m learning to look at grace differently these days and this statement sums up beautifully how I want to see others. Thanks as always for such insightful words.