Pencil and Eraser

Pencil and Eraser worked well together, most of the time that is. They needed each other but sometimes they forgot.

Pencil was good at communication—filling up a page was no problem. Pencil could say things that would make people laugh. Pencil could say things that could make people cry. Pencil could instruct, motivate, and encourage. Pencil, you see, had a way with words.

Eraser was also good at communication, albeit in a different sort of way. Eraser couldn’t fill up a page but knew when there were too many words. Eraser knew when words needed to be changed—even removed. Eraser could read the situation. Eraser was wise. Eraser was discerning.

It was after one of their spats they stopped working together. It didn’t take long for more problems to surface. Pencil communicated something and tried to take it back but couldn’t—people could read through the crossed out lines and scribbles. Pencil was accused of saying too much, and truth be told—did. Eraser on the other hand couldn’t be found. Where was Eraser? Eraser’s work had always been subtle; that was Eraser’s strength. But now there was no evidence of Eraser anywhere—the little pieces of pink on the paper and the shadowy smudges gone.

In a moment of honesty, Pencil and Eraser would admit they didn’t like the state of affairs. Neither was satisfied. Both were miserable. What separated them in the first place? Lost in all the emotion was the details of the disagreement. Neither was completely sure what had come between them.

What would bring the twosome together again? Would anything?

One of them, it doesn’t matter which, remembered how well they used to work together, and made a comment concerning such. This prompted vulnerability where the other, after some introspection, quietly suggested, “Maybe we need each other?” This encouraged more dialogue. Soon an “I’m sorry” was heard. Then there was the hint of an aroma missing for some time—it was humility. How sweet it smelled! It was no surprise a question was heard next, “Will you forgive me?” And upon the affirmative the question was ping-ponged back to the other. Forgiveness granted; Pencil and Eraser emerged together again.

Fond of attachment anyway, Paper Clip was overheard to later say, speaking for all their friends, “Those two just belong together.” It was a point no one could deny. Everyone was glad for them. No one more than Pencil and Eraser.

“He who has ears to hear, let him hear.”

Pastor Rich Hamlin

March 13, 2014

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