In my lifetime, I was fortunate enough to meet my idol. He was an influential man that seemed to be able to do anything and everything life put in front of him. He was the writer of one of my favorite book series, a missionary who traveled the globe to help others, involved in multiple charities, and he had PhD in countless fields. In my mind, he was a legend. My parents were sometimes too concerned with my obsession with this man. I would watch for him on the news, read any and all articles he was featured in, and wrote about him for a school project I wasn't the least bit ashamed of my slight addiction to this man. How could I not admire all the selfless acts he did for those who needed it?

On my birthday I teared up when my mother surprised me with a trip to one of his book signings. I was filled to the brim with pure joy and salty tears. That weekend I woke up early to get ready and was in the car 20 minutes before my parents. It was a two hour drive to the city and each second was a second too long. When we finally got to the place I couldn't contain myself and ran to get into the line that wrapped around the block. Knowing that I was perfectly fine, my parents left to do some shopping and get lunch. Meanwhile, I was preparing what to say when I got to the front. It needed to be short, but not too short. Memorable, but not in a "that kid was weird" kind of way. Flattering, but not over the top.

While my conjuring up my speech, I was brought back to reality by a security guard nudging me to move. Eye's bulging, I realized it was my turn. At the table, a man with gray hair smiled at me and laughed at my star-struck stature. He waved for me to come over. I became a speechless fan in front of him as I shuffled my feet to the table. I did nothing but stare as I lifted my book. His mouth began to move, but I honestly didn't hear a word he said. I guess I was going with the weird kid approach. He laughed again and began to hold up his pen to sign the hardcover. I finally snapped back into reality watching him sign it. However, it wasn't his signature that caught my eye, but the pen he used to sign it. To give some context, the series I devoted all my allowance to was about my idol's journey as a missionary across countries helping build churches, introducing people to God, and making the world a better place. This pen clear as day in bright red letters, said "Pro-Atheist & Pro Science". I was taken aback and I didn't really know what to think about such a pen. Next thing I know the same guard was nudging me again to move along.

Not much had changed since my first encounter with my idol. I kept on flipping through his articles, rereading his books, and watching him on the TV. One weekend he was featured on a news segment about PETA. In the video, it showed him speaking at protests, holding rabbits, taking autographs. The news cast even went behind scenes to show the philanthropist signing checks I squinted towards something odd on the screen and I rushed to pause it. Sure enough, the pen he had used for it all had the word "PETA" with a big red "X" through it. Thinking back to the book signing it wasn't just coincidence and I just didn't understand it. I forgot about the pen within the hour and went about my day.

Years later I decided to go watch him speak at a convention. This time he was giving a speech on society and human equality. Just like the years prior I was ecstatic about going. Like the nerd I was, I sat front row. Close enough to see the wrinkles on his face and read the time on his watch. The speech was magnificent and he was gone soon after. I took my time leaving as everyone filed out. The auditorium was cold and silent as I picked up my jacket. "You're still here." I turned around and there he was, talking to me once more and once again I was too shocked to move. The humanitarian chuckled walk towards me. He began speaking about how he had left his pen on the podium. Immediately I was angry, for on his pen was the symbol for the KKK. I had had enough. It wasn't coincidence at this point that all the pens he had ever used were like this. This one being the worst. I began shouting at him. Telling him off for being such a hypocrite for using these undoubtedly awful pens for such good causes. I had turned the opposite of silence as I gave him my piece of mind.

All the while, he stood patiently, listening to my words. "You finished?" he asked. I nodded back to him. He then took a seat and opened his mouth. Talking calmly and quietly he began to speak, "I understand your anger and I completely agree with you, but here is why I do such a thing thing. I remember you from long ago, at my book signing. I used an atheist pen to sign those books and yes, I did use a pen like that once more to sign those checks in my news segment. Even this pen," he held it up to me, "well I used it to write the speech I just gave to you. All these pens, I found or were given to me by others in total opposition of what is right. However, here is what I see. These pens are tools that were created to represent bad, but I get to decide to follow through with that evil. Instead, I use them to write those checks, sign those books, and write moving speeches to help others. These pens have given new school and churches to third world countries, helped prevent animal cruelty, start centers to support the less fortunate, and much more in my lifetime. All of it for good. Because, you see here, a tool can be intended to show the ugly in the world, but, just like my pens and I, it's how you use them that change their outcome for the better."