I don’t know if you’re like me, but I have a favorite pen. And I am quite attached to her.
Although I have a couple dozen in my desk drawer, I only have one on my desk—my favorite—her. I know that you’re not supposed to have favorites, because it can really mess up the other pens and make them feel inferior. But the way I look at it, that’s okay, because they are!
My pen and I have been together for several years, now. I picked her up at a trade show booth. Her label reminds me of where she came from. As pens go, though, she’s a bit odd. Her barrel is not round as with most, but triangular. Perhaps it’s her uniqueness that draws me to her.
A while back, she ran out of ink. I did what I had to in order to save her—I performed a transplant. Soon she was as good as new.
Last Thursday, the unthinkable happened.
She disappeared. I held her as I lay down a book and the next thing I knew, she was gone. This had never happened before. As soon as I realized it, I immediately stopped work and searched in vain.
I retraced my steps and looked in every conceivable hiding place—two or three times. I kept thinking that when I found her, I would remember leaving her there. But that was not to be.
Eventually I had to accept that she was gone. I pulled a replacement out of the drawer, but it wasn’t the same; it wasn’t her. Each time I went to write, I was painfully reminded of my loss.
Then today, a surprise of surprises happened. Sitting at my desk, I reached for a pen—and it was her. She came back. I didn’t ask where she’d been or what she’d done.
I was just glad to see her again and accepted her back without question.
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Peter DeHaan writes about biblical Christianity to confront status quo religion and live a life that matters. He seeks a fresh approach to following Jesus through the lens of Scripture, without the baggage of made-up traditions and meaningless practices.