“Hey, how are you?” the eraser asked the pencil kindly.
“I’m not your friend,” the pencil snapped. “I hate you.”
Surprised and hurt, the eraser asked, “Why?”
“Because you erase everything I write.”
“I only remove the mistakes,” the eraser replied gently.
“That doesn’t make it right,” said the pencil.
“But that’s what I’m here for. It’s my purpose.”
“Then your job is meaningless,” grumbled the pencil. “Writing is more important than erasing.”
“To erase the wrong is just as important as writing the right,” the eraser said.
The pencil paused, then quietly said, “But I see you getting smaller each day…”
“That’s because I give a little bit of myself every time I help correct a mistake.”
“I feel smaller too,” the pencil admitted.
“We can’t do good for others unless we’re willing to sacrifice something,” the eraser smiled.
Then she looked at him and softly asked, “Do you still hate me?”
The pencil smiled back:
“How could I hate someone who gives so much of themselves?”
Each day we wake up with one day less.
If you can’t be the pencil that creates joy for others, be the eraser that wipes away their pain, planting hope and reminding them:
The future can still be better than the past.
Be grateful. Always.
