I was in eighth-grade math class. I was bored out of my mind.
Drool fell down my cheek onto my desk. You know the feeling? You wake up to a numb arm, that’s wet.
Who cared about fractions anyway? I wasn’t very quick at them. (I’m still not.)
The kid behind me constantly asked for a pencil to borrow and when I would ask for it back, it would be covered with large teeth prints. The nervous munch, I guess. Looking back I suppose he dreaded math more than me. His mouth had always seemed to have walked its way from the tip to the eraser of my pencils.
This day was different, though.
He asked for a pencil and I had to decline. I only had one. This pencil was special. It was fairly short from previous use but, it was all I had. This would be a very gracious thing as I look back.
But, this pencil was unique.
It was what I would use to fill out made-up answers for the fractions I knew nothing about. It was also a better toy than the recent “fidget spinner”. I didn’t have one of those in school or this story may have taken a twisted turn.
The pencil, though, I could flip it. I could spin it. I could draw. The skies were the limit. Unfortunately, I did none of that with it. That day I decided, instead, to invent a new game.
The game consisted of me holding the pencil an inch from my mouth, and I would suck in like a human-vacuum. (Weird, I know. This is why I need a savior.)
It would fly in and I would catch it with my tongue. I repeated this a few times. The teacher still mumbling on about quarters and halves, but my game was more interesting. I sucked in and like a pinball, it would hit my tongue. (You can unsubscribe if you like.) Then, the one thing I didn't see happening....happened.
The pencil passed my tongue and shot like a bullet down my throat! (This is a very true story.)
Panic! instant Panic! I looked around to see if anyone was watching. I could feel it in my throat. I swallowed multiple times. Maybe it went down, maybe not.
I remember this moment like it was yesterday and I will never forget it.
Questions filled my mind. Do I need surgery? What about lead poisoning? How do I tell my mom!
I needed to leave.
My hand shot up.
“Can I use the restroom?”
The teacher nodded.
I ran to the bathroom. I looked in the mirror with my mouth wide like a python. NOTHING....I should go to the nurse and ask about lead poisoning. I could definitely die from this dosage. I mean it was a pencil!
She ended up telling me, it was made with graphite. What a relief...
The rest of the day I walked like a robot, I was scared to bend over.
What if this pencil shot out of my skin? What if it already pierced my intestine?
I went home and told my mom that night. She held in her laughter. I remember the shock that filled her face. Honestly, if my son or daughter ever came home and gave me this news, I would respond the same. Wouldn’t you? She calmly asked if I wanted to go to the ER. I didn't. For whatever reason, I’m not sure why, this idea was okay with both of us. This still boggles my mind. It had to be faith. Maybe, insanity?
For seven days I waited…
I checked every delivery I made in the bathroom.
On the seventh day guess what I saw? The pencil! I suppose the sabbath has a whole new meaning!
I called a meeting in the bathroom for celebration! I showed my sisters. And joy filled my heart.
From that day forward I never stuck pencils near my mouth. I still don’t.
You’re asking, “what did you do with the pencil? Did you save it?”
No. I gave it to the kid behind me that chewed on all my pencils.
Okay! I didn’t! I regret the decision, but I flushed it. I tried to shake it clean, but decided it was too much.
Is this theology? Well, I’m sure there’s things to be learned from it. But, for today I hope it made your Friday a better one!
Cling to Christ!
(Don’t swallow your pencils.)
Fantastic
Great story