I think God has grown weary of our drawings of rainbows, blue skies and jagged green grass. “Let’s put these away for now,” I can imagine him saying, as he takes our brightly colored crayons and places them high on a shelf where we can’t get at them. “This picture of your life isn’t really accurate anyway, is it?” he asks while dumping our glitter down the drain.
“I’d really love to see what you could do with these.” He is holding out some of the drabbest crayons we’ve ever seen – a fist filled with every color of Alone.
“But before you make one mark on that page,” he says, “I want you to tell me the truth this time.”
He pulls up a chair, takes our hands into his own and looks us straight in the eyes. “Now,” he says to us, “tell me what happened to you. I really want to know.”
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