Age five, Crayola’s in clenched fist, I discovered how to maneuver the waxy blue-greens and magentas. Carefully I would ensure each color remained within the thick outlines of Cinderella’s slipper or Pooh bear’s honey pot. It wasn’t long before I had moved from simple coloring to tracing, tracing to coping and finally, the training wheels were removed. I was given the Crayola multi-set; the kind with the fold-down top and more colors than a five year old knew existed. I was turned loose with blank page before me, inviting me to create.
I don’t know if my five-year-old hand drew scribbles, stick figures or sunsets, but I know my mom let each picture proudly hang on the refrigerator, treasuring my scribbles more than cookie-cutter colorings. As I have aged, I have fallen back to coloring between the lines. I have spent the last three years of college drawing lines for myself-scheduling. Clubs, teams, school, sorority, church, friends, even God, were arranged neatly into my week with each activity in its own color-coded section. As long as I stayed within the solid black lines of my busy schedule, my life seemed to create an aesthetic image.
I have since left that image behind, bringing with me snapshots and memories. A friend asked me how life is different in New Zealand, “less stress and more adventure” I have discovered. We both determined that this is the way life is supposed to be, yet there are so many more activities, bible studies, lunch dates, relationships, clubs, teams, service projects and homework that I left behind when I crossed the ocean. Now I have no commitments, busy schedules are replaced with choice. Old habits tell me to draw myself lines again, but a color-by number life no longer appeals. I realize have been given the opportunity to be five again, Crayola’s by my side and New Zealand as a blank page before me. I am unsure of what lines to draw, or how to funnel my passions into purpose. The vastness of the empty page and fact that crayon can’t be erased means I'll need to give myself room to make mistakes. My drawings may look no better than my five-year-old scribbles, but I hope they will be received with just as much grace.
3 comments:
Your metaphor is profound. I love that 'drawing in between the lines just doesn't work anymore'. It reminds of the seemingly scattered way in which Jesus ministered; this town for a while, maybe that town next, maybe in this boat for a while, maybe I will heal this blind guy now. Yet He was fully present in each situation. You are on to something here.
I want to join you! I remember those little scribbles on the refrigerator! I encourage you to keep creating those new images through your adventures and saving them in your mind and soul! Thanks for sharing your thoughts and adventures...I love it!!! I hope you can remember all of this when you return. It will be fun to see where God leads you!! Love you!
I hope I can lavish grace on you, it is my heart's intent, and I know it is the heart of your God. Go for it!
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