Seeing Colors

Today was a very meaningful and thoughful day. The kind where, I swear, if I could just hold onto this moment, I would never fear the monsters of life again. Man could not hurt me. I have felt so close to God today and last night, I can't even describe it in words. This has been long awaited peace.

The peace is even amidst saying goodbye to two of my loved residents. I really will miss those two dearly. But I feel like I can see a bigger picture, and it's beautiful, and although I will miss those girls, I can see that these brushstrokes from Heaven are beautiful and make the whole the unique and perfect heartwork that this life is.

He is my Master. I learn heartwork at His feet. And today I got to go on a field trip with Him. He took me along with Him today and showed me some of His studio, some of his paints, some of His colors and His heartistic vision. Today we had a conference and we evaluated all the favorite things that I have learned. We evaluated all my favorite colors that He has shown me. At the funeral for Carmody, I had a dear friend and bishop tell me something I hold dear to me. He said I truly was an artist, and then, "I bet you see more colors than the rest of us do." Today I was blessed with that gift, and today I can believe it. This is a very sacred gift I am blessed with - to see the colors of life the way I do.

I was reflecting on the evolution of my favorite colors and how much they reflected my path and special gifts of sight in life so far. In case you would like to go on that journey with me:

The farthest back that I can remember, A bright rich cherry red was my favorite color. I had a large bouncy ball that color. I remember that it was my favorite one (I collected them, and still have about 50 at home in a box... and I have special plans for each one of them). I loved to just sit and look at it in my hand. I loved the simplicity of it. It was red. not pinkish. not purply. not organgy. It was red and there was no question about what color it was. I craved black and white answers and a clear plan of how to act in every situation. I soon learned that it doesn't work quite like that. But, I am grateful for the gift of being able to recognize and appreciate simplicity when it presents itself on occasion, like the joy of a bouncy ball, or the simplicity of a smile or the power of a hug, the sounds of spring coming, or the beauty of a white Easter Lily.


Next, somewhere around 4th or 5th grade, my favorite color was white and silver. It was around this time that I gained a conscious testimony of who I was to God. I felt like His little girl. I remember being very homesick for heaven during these years of loving glittering white. I remember wishing I were an angel. Wishing I could really be a gardian angel for people, unseen but by the heart. I tried to fly. I hoped with all my heart that if I believed hard enough, God would make me one of His angels.

On windy days, it was all I could do to make it through school and run home as fast as I could. I would run to the garage and get a tarp, tie it around my wrists and ankles on each corner, and stand at the edge of the front porch several feet from the ground, and I would close my eyes and jump. I felt something, something I couldn't see, grab me and carry me across my front lawn. I would open my eyes and find myself landed where I could not hope to land if I simply jumped without the wind to hold me. I would jump and climb back up to the porch and jump again, hoping "THIS time I'll really fly, more than just the wind can take me!" Little did I know, I really did. The gift of knowing who I am to God has carried me very very far. It has allowed me to soar on many occasions.


Then, my favorite color turned into a greyish, purply blue. The color of heavy rain clouds in the distance. This was most of middle school. Life always seemed to be raining on me during those years. I remember a little song I wrote, just two lines long, a short little tune. I would sing that little diddy over and over and over in my head and hum the tune as I walked alone in a crowd from class to class: "It's a brand new day, and I'm feeling great." It didn't feel new; it felt like everyday. And I wasn't feeling great. That was bull-poopy. I was a few moments from utter despair most of the time, especially after Darwin was taken from me and when Gar left. I thank God for those dogs everyday. Without them, I don't know that I would have had the energy or hope to make it through those lonely years. They brought constant moments of true joy, hope, and purpose, like rainbows in my storm.

I truly was like my favorite color; I was constantly a potential downpour. Life often felt dark and ominous and thundering with a million voices. But I also remember the rain providing a cleansing, a clarity in my air that allowed me to clear away the mud of things that didn't matter, and to see the things that truly do matter. I learned to see a lot of things in life uncluttered by worldly grime or cares. Because of that gift of sight, I would not change a minute of my stormiest years. If I ever lost that gift, I would go through the storms again to regain that vision if I had to, and sometimes I do.


In high school my choice of color took an extremely unique turn. It continued through the first two years of my college years as well. No one ever believed me. People told me it didn't count as a color. But I stuck to my guns. The color of glass. The color of water in a calm creek. The color of the air that allowed us to see at all. My favorite color was clear, or transparency, as I prefered to call it. At this point in my life, I was bombarded with places, ideas, and people I had never seen, heard, or come across before. I moved across the country to a completely different culture. I went from being in a busy Mormon dominated culture, to a quieter and slower place where I was minority as a Mormon. I was outwardly teased for ideas I built my life around. I met kids my age that were hurting beyond my own ability to understand. I was confronted with issues like drugs, sex, violence, and lots and lots of foul language. But I made it my personal purpose in life to see people. To really see them, even though almost everything about their lives seemed so foreign to me. Because of a previous gift of seeing in white, I still wanted to be their gardian angel. I wanted to understand what life was like for them.

I joined, and led, so many clubs so I could do just that. I just wanted to see them like God would. I wanted so badly to see clearly. However, this also caused me to lose my sense of self. I was, in a sense, a chameleon of sorts with none of my own opinions because I could see almost every perspective as real, even if it was warped, I still saw how it could be valid point of view. Like a prism, you would see whatever I was presented with through me, and if pure light came into my world, I could reflect any color of life that I had known. I was searching for truth, and I was willing to rid myself of my own biases and colors in order to find it. I do not feel this way now, but I am grateful beyond words for my experiences I had trying to see people. I learned how to experience true empathy. I learned how to be in someone elses shoes, not simply comparing them to my own, but being entirely in theirs for a moment. This has given me an ability to love even the most difficult or different person (I'm not good at it all the time, but it is possible, at least). That is a very special gift I treasure and one of the reasons why I love my job. I get to use this gift all the time. I get paid to see my world in clear on occasion. That's pretty sweet.


Now I have learned that I cannot run away from looking through a lens. Even a clear lens distorts the image slightly. I have learned that Truth does not mean reality. There are lots of valid realities- infinite even. Truth means goodness, and not everything is good. Faith is a hope for things which are not seen (without looking through some sort of lens) but which are true (a good seed).

I have found a color now that seems to make my world go round. It is Red Fox Gold. But, I'd like to point out that this gold is not a contextless gold, it is only meaningful to me when context is included in its experience. It is not the color alone I am in love with, but how the light hits it. How big it looks on the mountains. How warm it looks and feels on Garcelle's fur. How deep it reaches me in Garcelle's eyes. So is it with my life currently. It is not the events or even the people in my life that I find beautiful, but the experience of all the relationships between them. It is not my dear friend that I love alone, but it is how THE LIGHT, Jesus Christ, my Savior, reflects from her in a meaningful conversation about losses and feelings we both resonate with. Alone, she is my friend, with context, she is so much more than that. It is not the death of my friend alone that is important or affecting me in my life. It is how big it feels in my context, how it fits in with the timing of other events in my life right now. Alone, it is a difficult loss. With context, it is heartwrenching but also surrounded by hope, love, faith, strength, and connection. Right now, I understand that Life is not about trying to get rid of the lenses we see the world in, it's about choosing the right ones. I like the lenses full of warm light. They are good, for it "beginneth to swell within me" and "so it must needs be a good" color to see my world through right now.


I am intrigued to learn years from now if my favorite color has changed and what new gift of sight I will receive from that color. For now, I'm very comfortable with my current choice. I'm learning to perfect my sight of Fox Red Gold and learn how to paint with it on my canvas of Life the way my Master would.