The Day I Swallowed a Pencil

I was in eighth-grade math class the day I swallowed a pencil.

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. He had the nervous munch, I guess. Looking back, I suppose he dreaded math more than I did. His mouth always seemed to walk its way from the tip to the eraser of my pencils.

This day was different.

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. Indeed, its length turned out to 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 might have taken a twisted turn.

This pencil, though, I could flip it. I could spin it. I could draw. The sky was the limit. Unfortunately, I didn't use it for any of that. That day I decided, instead, to invent a new game.

The game consisted of me holding the pencil an inch from my mouth and sucking 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 was 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.

Then the one thing I didn't forsee 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!

So, I went.

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 had 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 who 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 are things to be learned from it.

But for today, I hope it made you laugh.

Cling to Christ!

(Don't swallow your pencils.)