She gets angry when I mention the public library. My suggestions of borrowing instead of buying are shot down instantaneously. Their "lending not keeping" policy offends her. She *might* struggle with hoarding a little. (She *might* get this from both her parents who have gone through extensive therapy together over the past 11 years to accept the process of getting rid of things. We are under construction, so to speak. Right now I sit around piles of mail and homeschool books at my feet. Sadly, I couldn't care less. We had a good day. People over stuff, until your people trip and fall over your stuff and then you have yourself a situation.)
And while we're on the topic of hoarding, or having issues with piles of "special" things (they're all special- so hands off!) laying around, I am reminded of a story. Once upon a time I had a toddler and a newborn baby. It was a while back, but I still remember doing laundry and it never really getting "finished". I readily admit I fed and bathed and played with children. My house suffered, but is not complaining right now. Precious years, I tell you. Priorities.
Well I rolled into bed one night forgetting the laundry piles. So I scooted them away from my side. My husband also rolled into bed and scooted the said pile towards the middle. It stayed there for a while. Between us. And maybe this happened a few times. You know what that's called? Barrier method. Yep. Husband does not think that is funny but survival mode is what we were in. And it worked.
And today as all my clothes got washed, dried, folded and put away, I was reminded that things may be difficult for a while, but life is constantly in motion. Change happens all around us. Certain things do get easier. But at the time it often doesn't appear that way. The second child does teach you that you will get sleep eventually and your body may be different, but your heart is changed more.
But in the moment of other, less joyful, difficult things, that don't include wet baby kisses, it's hard to grasp it. And I have this phenomena. I like to call it "the grey crayon" issue. You see, we're all given this box of colorful crayons. (Crayola is my favorite, but whatever floats your boat really.)
And if you've watched a child color, you use all the crayons in one sitting. Your picture must be rainbow, colorful, lived out to the fullest. Somewhere we realize bad things happen. Maybe a string of bad things. We pick up that dreaded grey crayon and start coloring. We ignore the box of options before us. What starts with a small area has turned into a larger area. Our focus remains grey and on that part of the page. Before you know it, you look at that should be beauty of a picture, or life, and it's all grey. And you're like, "What am I going to do?" Have you had this? Because I have.
So what do you do with that grey crayon? It has to stay in the box because the OCD readers will tell you it must be a complete set. And grey is a part of our human makeup. So in talking with friends about my coined "grey crayon issue" and experiencing it myself, let's talk about why we can't focus on the grey.
You cannot hold the grey crayon too long because there is hope in the other colors. And hope is stronger than any emotion we have because it holds a promise like none other.
There is hope in the form of yellow and orange sunsets, promising God's mercies are new every morning. There are blues in the form of dreams come true, ocean waters, Jesus calming storms. The tans and the creams are like seashells- opportunity, treasure found, uniquely made by our Creator. The greens of spring, new growth, the smell of freshly cut grass in summer. The reds of a quiet Christmas, gifts wrapped in velvet ribbons, the passion of Easter, the blood shed for us. White, which seems useless, becomes meaningful to a sinner- symbolically reminding us of linen, purity, forgiveness, no shame for those who are in Christ Jesus. The purples of royalty, robes, clothed with Christ Jesus, adopted into his family. Gift righteousness. Gratitude.
What you get when you look at the colors is gratitude. Scripture affirming that you are not stuck with only the grey crayon. And with each color you release the tension holding it, with each verse affirming God's love for you, you begin to see opportunity. You begin to see hope. This is a change process. And it takes time and practice, but healing does come.
You might be a great ship like the Titanic. (Actually you probably are awesome and rock it out every day.) But the waters will never consume you in Jesus. Because he teaches us to walk on them stepping out in faith, not be overcome. And that's a promise.
PS: This is a powerful video you might enjoy. http://vimeo.com/71765067
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