I remember it like it was yesterday. April, 1981.
I got my first 64 pack of Crayola Crayons. I upgraded the colors of my creative dreams from the basics of red and green to silver and burnt sienna. It was magic.
That is until I broke one.
That box was beloved. It was a very special treat. To someone who felt like it was no big deal and they would just ask for another one, this would not have been a dramatic moment. Not the case with me. I had to save my dreams. My vision of life lie in those colors. I did what any five and a half year old creative, starving artist would do.
I taped that thing up and kept coloring. It wasn’t pretty. But it still colored.
I am beautifully broken.
But sometimes it gets ugly.
Like this past week. It looked ugly. It felt ugly. Ugly. Ugly. Ugly. And I assure you. I tried to find the beauty in it. By the time the Bulls lost to the Cavs Tuesday night, I was done. I had very little emotion by the time they had lost the series Thursday night.
Seriously, I had begun to lose the emotion for everything. Broken.
I’m so complex. I’m a sensitive person who needs a steel barrier to do what I do, physically and emotionally. Sometimes I have one. Sometimes I don’t. Add in the fact that I am NOT my job, that I have a husband, children, family that lives 600 miles away, grandmothers who are now both in their 80’s and a body that knows I am about to turn 40 in six weeks and has started to reject my 30 something year old efforts and started to say, “Ummm, if you want these rolls to behave, you better do double and stop eating all of that “stuff.”
But the brokenness of this week somehow made me come face to face some of that stuff, mostly this:
I’ve been afraid of my brokenness. I’ve been ashamed of my brokenness. I’ve been too embarrassed to put tape on myself some times and yell, “I’m still silver and burnt sienna.” Even when other people would throw me in the garbage becaus I’m disposable to them, I’m not disposable to myself. That’s worth fighting for.
My friend Jenn (you know her, right? Jenn Hall, LeBarre creator, former Beyoncé dancer and just all around awesome) sent me a text that read “We find out brilliance in our brokenness.” Glad I remembered it because my phone got erased this week too. That’s a whole ‘nother level of brokenness. 🙂
She was right. I’ve colored a new, beautiful portrait of where I want to go, taped crayons and all and I’m ready for a new week.
I hope you are too.