It would be so easy to just log on to a computer and let my fingers dance across the keyboard, or pick up a phone and leave a message. It would be faster—and less painful as the deed is done more quickly (ok, maybe less painful just for me).
But that is not as it’s meant to be.
Before me: paper and pencil. Yes, pencil—not even a ballpoint pen that will let ink flow until I’m finished. No, it’s a pencil. I’ll have to let the thoughts in my head percolate while I periodically take time out to sharpen it; and even though my pencil has an eraser, the act of writing by hand affords me the time to process and choose my words carefully—to decide on just the right way to convey my message. (Hmm…I wonder if he knew what he was doing when he gave me the paper and pencil.)
Staring at the blank page, I know I have (short of any 11th hour changes) only a few hours in which to write my message and I face one problem: how does one fully convey remorse and ask for forgiveness? I know God has forgiven me and I’ve reached a place of peace—how do I begin to help a grieving family find that same peace?
God help me.