Handwriting

When I taught 3rd grade, I was a rarity among the teachers because I loved teaching handwriting. The efforts of those sweet souls to keep their pencil at the proper angle and allow the letters to connect with fluidity brought me a sense of satisfaction. I always loved watching the boy who cared more about coming up with football plays than doing his math homework concentrate so intently on each letter, each stroke.

I have always had a thing for handwriting. I can identify more people's handwriting than I can count. In college, on the occasions when I longed to be at home in the presence of my family, I would pull out a letter that I kept hidden in my study Bible from my mom (I still have that letter there).  I found more comfort in the familiarity of her eloquent handwriting than I did in the reaffirming words she had written. One glance at my mom's handwriting, and I can almost see her beautiful hands with the soft skin that used to hold my hand during church. 

My favorite recipes are those composed on notebook paper or index cards from my Nanna or Maw or MeMe.  Something about seeing the recipes written out in the familiar script makes me feel as though I can taste the meringue on the coconut cream pie. 

Nothing blesses my heart more than to wake up to a hand written note left on my bedside by my husband. I imagine him holding the pen, thinking of me as he jotted his thoughts. 

I know my friends handwriting by heart. 

I don't have great handwriting, but I could make a list of the people whose handwriting I love. But the truth is, I love it all.  From the messy scribble to the cursive to the people who write in all caps, handwriting is a part of the person. It defines them just as their eye or hair color. It shows their individuality and form. 

This love led me to share my favorite thing from Kayt's party. Each person wrote out a personal note to Kayt Emerson at age 1 telling her what she is to them.  I did this not only so my daughter could look back on her first birthday party and see how loved she was or who all attended, but also so that she could see the handwriting of the people who will make her into the woman she will become.  

The reality is, when Kayt is 20 her great, great grandparents won't be a part of her daily life. Those people were a part of my life and have blessed me time and again with their love and support and therefore have an affect on her life. 

I want her to see the writings of each person that loves her so deeply. I hope she appreciates the beauty these people add to her life and understands the joy she has brought to theirs. 

Kayt is so many things to so many people, but the overall theme is that she is loved and a precious gift to us all!