The Cracked Acorn: On the wall

Deuteronomy 6:9 – You shall write them on the doorposts of your house and on your gates.

Maybe you haven’t noticed it, but handwriting has entered a state of demise. I am not sure if we can blame it on doctors’ prescriptions or if this is a byproduct of the information age. Using a keyboard, your fingers can fly at amazing speeds conveying thoughts and facts that can be saved and edited over and over till every word and sentence is perfect. Try this with your ballpoint or your old fashion NO# 2 lead pencil. You will find that the words must stand in line while you make those graceful curves, slants, and spaces. Teachers are discovering that students would rather word process an essay rather than take the time to write one.

In grade school, I had to use a right-hand desk while I was trying to write left-handed. Fortunately, I was never pressured to change, so I developed my own style. Later, I found out that many left-handers wrote upside down and backward and did all kinds of contortions to perform the daily writing assignments. Maybe this is why “every year, 10 million letters end up undeliverable, in the dead letter boxes at post offices.” (Quote by Bill Bostick-Bingham Farms handwriting expert). I grew up hearing people say, “put your John Hancock” on this! His was the eligible and bold signature on the Declaration of Independence.

If we listen to the experts, handwriting began 3,000 or 8,000 years ago; take your pick. Ancient shells in China bear marks that could be symbols translated as “writing.” Present-day Iraq claims to be the home of handwriting. Those who follow the science of the earliest scribblings tell us that much more has to be unearthed before a positive answer is found. Will these findings tell us if the writer was “friendly, emotional, versatile, adaptable, flexible, agitated, stressful, intelligent, easygoing, theatrical, self-disciplined, a free thinker, cautious, generous and communicative? Handwriting is said to reveal some of these traits about them,

Finally, this old story, inspired maybe by Daniel. Chapter 5. A weary mother returned from the store, lugging groceries through the kitchen door. Awaiting her arrival was her 8-year-old son, anxious to relate what his younger brother had done.

“While I was out playing and Dad was on a call, T.J. took his crayons and wrote on the wall! It’s on the new paper you just hung in the den. I told him you’d be mad at having to do it again.”

She let out a moan and furrowed her brow, “Where is your little brother right now?” She emptied her arms, and with a purposeful stride, she marched to his closet, where he had gone to hide. She called his full name as she entered his room. He trembled with fear – he knew that meant doom! For the next ten minutes, she ranted and raved about the expensive wallpaper and how she had saved.

Lamenting all the work it would take to repair, she condemned his actions and total lack of care. The more she scolded, the madder she got, then stomped from his room, totally distraught! She headed for the den to confirm her fears. When she saw the wall, her eyes flooded with tears. The message she read pierced her soul with a dart. It said, “I love Mommy,” surrounded by a heart.

The wallpaper remained, just as she found it, with an empty picture frame hanging to surround it. A reminder to her.