Armed with Crayons

Reading old diaries is always fun – especially when they aren’t your own. A few years ago, my Mom gave me a diary she kept right before, and a couple years after, I was born. And no matter what mood I’m in when I start peering through the pages, I always end up with a laugh somehow escaping me.

There are cute little memories in-between the folds, where my Mom tells how I’d run to get a tissue for my baby sister without being asked, or how I’d try to help give her a bath. Then there are the funny stories where I’d try stay in the library longer by refusing to put my jacket on until my Mom whispered, “Cookie.” Or where my big brother showed me a picture of a frilled lizard, and I smartly proclaimed, “He has a costume on.”

However, my favorite little story in the diary is when I would ask for a blank piece of paper to draw on by saying, “Mommy, can I have an empty picture?” And I like it, not just because it’s cute, but also because I saw the blank white piece of paper for its potential, rather than just for what it was.

And maybe we can go further - just as a blank piece of paper lacks a picture, we could see that maybe hate is not purely hate, but a lack of love, and that despair is an absence of hope. We could see that a problem isn't always something terrible - it's just something that doesn't have a solution yet.

So here's to picking up my purple crayon, and erasing away my empty picture.

{Btw, I have to say thanks to you all for cheering me on - I wish that words could thank you enough, but somehow they'd fall short no matter what I said. Thanks so much for caring about me - you're amazing <3 }