As I was journaling today, I made a
little observation. My handwriting does not at all match up to what they teach
you in grade school. The curves, the height, staying inside the lines. I mean,
if you put one of those extra large greasy red and blue lined papers in front
of me and told me to practice my upper and lower case abc’s I would most
definitely fail this hypothetical penmanship class. Don’t worry I am pretty
confident that my cursive still looks like that of a third-grader (or worse),
however my print I wouldn’t necessarily rate as poor, but it does not by any
means meet the criteria I was once so strictly graded by. I am sure at one
point in time I did have this perfect elementary kid handwriting, seeing as I
would accept nothing less than an ‘A’ during this era of my schooling.
I can distinctly remember a time in
junior high when I tried to write a certain way. After all, I was a cheerleader
and had a reputation to uphold. I worked hard to form perfect bubble letters
with hearts and stars that dotted each ‘i’ and completed every exclamation
point. Hours of doodling in class led to expert painting skills displayed on
banners for football games and pep rallies. Just like so many pre-teens
struggle to fit in with the way they dress or act or even laugh, I had to write
like my friends. What would they think if my curly a’s and loopy e’s didn’t
match theirs to perfection when we traded our journals between classes?
Everyone knows that time of life when we all want to fit in, yet express our
individuality at the same time. So one girl does something to stand out and
everyone follows. While she may pretend to be annoyed that everyone is playing
copycat, on the inside she is oh-so satisfied. I can even recall the time my ears were buzzing when one
friend informed me that another was, in fact, totally and completely copying
the way I wrote my e’s and r’s. OH EM GEE. Can you believe her?! Oh wait- your
jaw actually dropped at the fact that we even noticed, let alone were offended
by this daring act of flattery. You’re right it was silly, but we were seventh
graders. On the inside I was secretly pleased that someone else wanted to write
like me. Me! All this time I had spent trying to impress other people with my
penmanship and I guess I had. Sigh. What satisfaction. So, along with my other
cheerleader friends, we eventually adopted musical tastes, fashion styles, and
hip phrases from one another, and yes, even the way we formed our letters. But
all this took a lot of practice, masking my true handwriting that is, and soon enough I didn’t even know what my true handwriting looked like. Sometime
in high school I began caring less about the way I wrote my letters and more
about actually getting the words on the page. AP classes showed no mercy to a
wannabe bubble letter transcriptionist like me. Even in college I learned that I had no time to care about
what my letters looked like as I furiously took notes and more and more of
these notes were taken on my laptop than by hand (although I’ll always prefer
just jotting things down over typing up a document). I felt foolish for having
spent all this time trying to write like someone else, rather than letting my
hands write for themselves and give my attention to more important things. So
in this time of transition I came to realize that my handwriting was changing,
taking on a shape of its own, one that I was not controlling-at least not
consciously- but allowing to flow freely from my fingertips.
Like I mentioned before, I would
not rate my handwriting as poor, in fact many people tell me I have “cool” or
“different” handwriting and I would like to take that as a compliment. The
thing is, that handwriting is mine. No one else writes quite like I do. Another
factor contributing to this is that I am left handed and naturally form my
letters differently based on the fact that I am approaching the page from a
different angle than most other people do. The point is that this beautiful
disaster of handwriting in no way resembles bubble letters or a girly
cheerleader has-been, but does belong strictly to me and me alone.
Maybe this is a stretch, but I
think that our handwriting patterns are a lot like the way we live our lives,
particularly our spiritual lives as Christians. At the start penmanship isn’t
even penmanship at all, just chicken scratch on a page. Our teachers instruct
us on the formation of every shape and curve and we follow the lines that guide
us, until we eventually develop the letters on our own. When we begin our lives
we are trying so hard to be like everyone else, look the same, talk the same,
act the same, even use the same “christianese” to talk about our lives or
church or the Bible. I think this is an especially widespread epidemic in the
lives of those who grow up in Christian homes, going to church because their
parents pull them out of bed every Sunday morning and push them out the door on
Wednesday nights. We know we have to act a certain way to avoid judgment or
criticism and be accepted in the group. We wear cross necklaces and put fish
emblems on our cars and write scripture on our facebooks. We carry certain theological
beliefs because our parents do or maybe we don’t even know what we believe
because our parents and youth groups have done all the believing for us for so
long. But then that moment comes;
the moment in college when your professor says something you’re not sure of or
you are asked a question that you cannot answer and it hits you. This belief
thing, this thing called Christianity, this relationship with the Savior of the
world has to be something you understand, not because your parents said so or your
youth pastor made some cool video about it, or the girl you wanted to date
believed in it, but because you have heard it, seen it with your eyes, looked
at it, and your hands have touched, and your soul has experienced- that is what
you proclaim as the Word of life. You care less about what you look like and
more about who created you. You find less worth in what people say about you
and more in saying that which brings God glory.
So I get it. Not everyone
had issues with handwriting like I did. For you it may be the clothes you wear
or how you style your hair each day or the fitness regimen you follow, or even
the way you blog, the music you like, or how you vote at the polls. Whatever it is, there is a reason for
it- someone told us, showed us or inspired us, so we do it that way. The
point is to know what you believe and why.
Make your faith your own. I am not saying that truth is relative so you can
believe whatever makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. What I am saying is
don’t get caught dumbfounded because you never took the time to know why you
are a Christian or what you believe the Bible really says because you always took other people at their word. 1 Peter 3:15 tells
us to always be prepared to give an answer for the reason of the hope that we
have. Are we prepared to do that?
And I shall step down from my
soapbox after this last proclamation: Know who God created you to be. Be who
God created you to be. Nothing
more, nothing less.
Decide
what to be and go be it. -Avett Brothers, Head Full of Doubt/Road Full of
Promise
