Perfect Printing

My father’s handwriting is beautiful. Tidy, evenly spaced, with a decorative serif-like flourish on certain letters. When I learned to write, I mimicked Dad’s printing. Even my cursive is a printing hybrid so I could always maintain a link with the writing I so admired.

One of my elementary school teachers had the students swap papers and grade each other’s spelling tests. I always carefully printed each word. One of my words had a lower case “f” in it. It might have been friend or fancy. I can’t remember. The boy who graded my paper marked the work incorrect. Frustrated and dejected, I protested. He refused to consider that an “f” could have a small flourish at its base. He was certain I had printed an “s” and although it was crossed like an “f” he would not budge on the mark.

Isn’t it excellent that we, as imitators of our Father, are not meant to be judged by our peers? Although we fall short, our Father clearly and accurately interprets our intentions. I find rest in Him.