A few days ago, my eight year-old son wrote this award winning piece in school.
The Life of an Eraser
by: Ben
Everyday I am rubbed against paper and pencil markings.
Why don't you just get another cockadoody paper?!
NO! Please don't use me now! I am too busy complaining to consumers!
OW! OW! OW! OW! OK, OK!, But make it quick! It still hurts when you use me.
OW! OW! OW! OW! Ok! You're done! Good-bye! I am going to "Pencilvania"
where pencils are popular not me!
I asked him if I could share it here, and he gave a resounding YES.
I love it because it made me laugh, and appreciate his quirky sense of humor. I love it because he busted his behind and worked so hard on it. I love it because it seems to have awakened in him, a love of writing, similar to ,my own. But most of all, I love it because of it's perspective. Ben put himself in a place I would have never thought to go, and stayed there long enough to give a voice to a silent tool, that would otherwise have none at all. I love the idea of giving voice to the silent.
I've been reading quite a bit of writing about writing lately, and much of it centers on this idea of finding "a voice" to write in, or with, or though... (pick a preposition). In that "voice", words, (and writers) connect with readers in a way way that reflects reality, and encourages more reading. Much thought consternation and time is spent searching for ans honing in on this "voice". Some even treat it as if it as a mystical quest, somewhat like the holy grail of writing....I was off, finding my writer's voice...
At least, for me, this quest for voice lands me right where it landed my second grader, outside my normal perspective. From someone else's spot, I may be able to see details, speak words, or hear melody otherwise drowned out. In a position of empathy, I can see past my tiny little world to shed light on something worth seeing. When I am obsessed with finding the right words, or the right image or the right anything to get my point across it is a slow and losing battle. When I can let go of that fight. and get beyond myself, to a new perspective only then can I find a voice to speak the truth in love.
Until I read these words from Ben. I had never considered the theoretical thoughts of my trusty pink eraser. I had never felt the need. But in the last few days, as Ben considered the pain of the pink pearl, I witnessed nasty,hasty fights and rhetorical bullying offered in the guise of furthering the Church. This makes me sad. It also makes me wonder what other perspectives we are failing to see.
(Warning raw ranting ahead. Still processing thoughts here.)
I have given up any hope of a pie-in-the-sky, easy solution to the divisiveness and fighting that plagues the church I love so dearly. Even if we could hold hands and sing Kum-Ba-Ya, that alone would not heal the hearts and minds so wounded on either side. Could not hurt...But will not heal the deep wounds and (dare I say it) the beginnings of a schism already happening. Truth is, right and wrong, theology and ideals, and real people with real hearts exist on both sides. Words I read in the past weeks have made we wonder if we are so caught up in shouting for truth; we forget listen to and give voice to the real Truth. Capital T. Whose Truthfulness and Healing does not depend on how we feel in the moment. Those of you who allowed your tweets and facebook, statuses and words to be bathed in grace and mercy were often out shouted by those who wielded their words like whips and swords. And yes, the Word of God is sharper than any sword...but some have put that particular weapon down in favor of one more easily known and more easily twisted to fit the desires of our twisted hearts.
I am sad. Because I feel that the church is losing it's voice. We cannot speak to the coming generation when we are too busy shouting over what we want, and who is right. How can they believe we offer healing and grace when we spout bitterness in public forums?
The best, and worst, thing about the Church is the people. And for better, or worse, we are living this thing out together as the bride of Christ. We are all broken; we are all healing. We are all needy; we are all needed. We all have to move beyond our own voices to hear the voice of the One who was, and is, and is to come. His voice is the one who will reach the coming generations... It's the voice of the Scriptures. The voice of the One who prayed for us so very long ago. Still calling us to follow; Still shocking us with the relevance of his peculiarity. Still offering grace that heals to holiness. That is the Voice. That is the perspective of the Church.
May we cling to it; tune our ears to it; and never let it be silenced.
At least, for me, this quest for voice lands me right where it landed my second grader, outside my normal perspective. From someone else's spot, I may be able to see details, speak words, or hear melody otherwise drowned out. In a position of empathy, I can see past my tiny little world to shed light on something worth seeing. When I am obsessed with finding the right words, or the right image or the right anything to get my point across it is a slow and losing battle. When I can let go of that fight. and get beyond myself, to a new perspective only then can I find a voice to speak the truth in love.
Until I read these words from Ben. I had never considered the theoretical thoughts of my trusty pink eraser. I had never felt the need. But in the last few days, as Ben considered the pain of the pink pearl, I witnessed nasty,hasty fights and rhetorical bullying offered in the guise of furthering the Church. This makes me sad. It also makes me wonder what other perspectives we are failing to see.
(Warning raw ranting ahead. Still processing thoughts here.)
I have given up any hope of a pie-in-the-sky, easy solution to the divisiveness and fighting that plagues the church I love so dearly. Even if we could hold hands and sing Kum-Ba-Ya, that alone would not heal the hearts and minds so wounded on either side. Could not hurt...But will not heal the deep wounds and (dare I say it) the beginnings of a schism already happening. Truth is, right and wrong, theology and ideals, and real people with real hearts exist on both sides. Words I read in the past weeks have made we wonder if we are so caught up in shouting for truth; we forget listen to and give voice to the real Truth. Capital T. Whose Truthfulness and Healing does not depend on how we feel in the moment. Those of you who allowed your tweets and facebook, statuses and words to be bathed in grace and mercy were often out shouted by those who wielded their words like whips and swords. And yes, the Word of God is sharper than any sword...but some have put that particular weapon down in favor of one more easily known and more easily twisted to fit the desires of our twisted hearts.
I am sad. Because I feel that the church is losing it's voice. We cannot speak to the coming generation when we are too busy shouting over what we want, and who is right. How can they believe we offer healing and grace when we spout bitterness in public forums?
The best, and worst, thing about the Church is the people. And for better, or worse, we are living this thing out together as the bride of Christ. We are all broken; we are all healing. We are all needy; we are all needed. We all have to move beyond our own voices to hear the voice of the One who was, and is, and is to come. His voice is the one who will reach the coming generations... It's the voice of the Scriptures. The voice of the One who prayed for us so very long ago. Still calling us to follow; Still shocking us with the relevance of his peculiarity. Still offering grace that heals to holiness. That is the Voice. That is the perspective of the Church.
May we cling to it; tune our ears to it; and never let it be silenced.
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