Why don’t I like coloring books? Because I can’t color within the lines.
When the adult coloring book craze hit, I purchased a few (not just one; I need diversity). I took out the new markers that Santa brought me and began to color. It didn’t take long before I realized that the lines were way too little — and I don’t like coloring in the lines. I mean, I want to color in the lines. It looks so fun, so fulfilling, so satisfying when I watch other people do it. When the lines are all filled in the picture is beautiful. But it seems that I’m not a color-in-the-lines kind of girl…. and that is just fine.
It occurs to me that I have spent a great deal of my life trying to color in the lines. I want people to look at my picture – my career, family, body, ministry, house, you name it – and think it’s beautiful. So, I’ve attempted to color in the lines in the ways other people make look easy. I’ve tried and consistently get pulled to the edges. When I’ve strayed outside of the design or decided to ignore the ‘suggested lines’ and colored in entire blocks, my internal voice spoke louder than the external ones. Girl, you know this is a mess. Why can’t you color pretty like the other girls? Why are you trying to redraw the design? You’re always trying to change things.
On and on MY voice droned, often to the accompaniment of the external voices who seemed pleased to add their two cents worth. You really think you’re special but look at the mess you just made. You know you can’t really color (parent, teach, sing, lose weight, preach) so why are you even trying? I don’t care how many degrees you have, you are still messed up.
For weeks those coloring books taunted me. And every time I picked one up to color, I felt that sense of failure for not being ‘good enough.’ Eventually, I gave away my coloring books, bought blank pages and began teaching myself to draw my own designs and color where I want to. And that’s just fine. I follow multiple guidelines. I reinterpret what others have drawn. I learn from them and I create or recreate in my own style, in my own voice. I laugh at myself when my lines are crooked and my circles don’t even look like ovals. And that’s just fine.
As it turns out, I don’t like coloring books – for me – but I do like to color. And that’s just fine. And the voices – mine and theirs? I’m not listening to them nearly as much. Oh, they still speak and way too often I am tempted to accept their noxious advice, to allow them to speak into my future and over my life. But, I am learning, more slowly than I care to admit, to pause to see if there is another voice I should heed.
If I’m very, very quiet, I can hear my Heavenly Father say Donna, that’s beautiful coloring you’re doing there. I’m going to put it on the refrigerator of my heart.
And that’s just fine!!