The Words We Write: A New Way To Study

“…I like it when it’s mizzly,
and just a little drizzly…”

I heard the words coming from the back of the van, then grinned in surprise and a little delight. My daughter was staring out the window at the bright, grey morning, watching the light rain dot the car windows and collect on road signs and tree branches.

It was working.

For Cambrie’s daily handwriting practice, she copies lines and phrases onto her lined paper. Her directive is to do so slowly and deliberately, prioritizing well-written letters over quantity of words.

And what had she copied just in the past few days? A few lines from Aileen Fisher's little poem, "I Like It When It's Mizzly."

She’s now written everything from nursery rhymes (“One misty, moisty morning / When cloudy was the weather…”) to Benjamin Franklin (“Little strokes fell great oaks”). She’s copied poetry (“The spider weaves his silver wire…”) and hymns (“Now the day is over; / Night is drawing nigh. / Shadows of the evening / Steal across the sky”).

She’s even copied sentences from books, like this from Stuart Little:

“He enjoyed the quiet rooms with the books standing still on the shelves, the pale light coming in through the windows, and the fresh smell of the day.”

Before she begins to copy, we always read the lines through together. As she writes and after she writes, she often repeats the words to herself—rolling them around on her tongue and in her mind.

And how could she help herself, when she’s spending such careful time with the words? When I read out loud to her (and, increasingly, when she reads to herself), the words go too quickly to enjoy for their own sake. Taking the time to write has helped her to more deeply internalize the rhythm, beauty, silliness, or depth of the words before her.

I love that she is able to have that.

And, thanks to an old friend and a serendipitous Facebook post, I’ve found that I can, too.

In the early days of last December, still surrounded by boxes of picture frames and computer speakers and cleaning supplies, I was trying to find a modicum of peace and joy within the chaotic Christmas season. Even putting up the tree just a few weeks after the move seemed a monumental task. How was I supposed to manage the requisite gifts and holiday traditions, much less meaningfully celebrate the babe whose day it was?

And so it was that a good friend shared this one link online: a Christmas Scripture Writing Plan.

The idea was simple: take less than ten minutes a day to hand-copy the given daily scripture. The moment I saw it, I knew this was the solution to my problem. I needed quiet, peace, and perspective. Making a point to carve time out of my day and to spend it more deliberately in the word of God was my answer.

While I sometimes make a decent effort to read in the scriptures, I am often not as alert as I should be. My mind will start wandering, or I’ll start dozing off, or I’ll be so determined to complete a chapter that I sprint through the words without much thought or care. This scripture writing plan was going to provide variety and structure, and, by necessity, I was going to have to slow down.

Ignoring the cutesy printable page on the blog above, I grabbed a more comfortable composition notebook instead. I meant business. I copied all the scripture references on the first page, and then I flipped it over and began.

Throughout that hectic, disheveled December, I found time over and over again to fill a quiet moment by writing scripture. The list first took me through Isaiah and Jeremiah and Psalms—many verses which I’d never had connected with Christmas (but for their references to Christ) but which provided a meaningful backdrop to the significance of his birth. It led me through the more familiar verses in the New Testament and allowed me to move through them with intention and gratitude.

I found myself wondering at the language, trying to decipher the now-ancient metaphors, marveling in the words and images the author chose to describe his Lord. As Christmas Day grew closer, arrived, and passed, the quietest moments were filled with remembering and pondering the words that spoke of my Savior. I’d read them, written them, and somehow made them more my own.

The Christmas season is over, but in the New Year I’ve continued to write. I’ve created lists of references based on the struggles or concerns I have in the moment, and I’m now two-thirds of the way through my notebook.

Just like my daughter’s daily writing assignments do for her, slowing down and making my study a physical process (pen in hand, ink on paper) has helped me more deeply internalize the words I read. I am eager to start a similar notebook that goes beyond scripture, taking in every beautifully expressed or profoundly meaningful thought that passes my way. I wish I'd started such a book in college, when I was knee-deep in some of the best literature and thought to be found.

However, I know it's never too late to start. When I find a phrase that makes me pause, I don’t want to let it slip away into the forgotten depths of everything-I’ve-ever-read. I want to keep it, to document its significance to me, and to facilitate its continued influence on my life.

For myself and for my daughter, I want the best words to be the ones filling our heads and hearts. And word by word, pen in hand, I hope to find my way there.