I remember the queen in Alice In Wonderland wanted all red roses. So much so that she had her little slaves paint everything that was white into red. It was so unnatural. I’ll paint myself in all white. It might suit you best, hey? I’d lifted the roof of my mouth to find yellow beaming through laughter, crimson reds covering my throat and purple like royalty stringing through my hair. My finger nails dripping in gloriously girly pinks while I sit back and giggle a while. Eyes bursting with golds and black while I shed a tear and learn to smile. Tap my feet in vintage browns and watch lime green splash to and fro. But I’ll paint myself in all white.

When I think about it, I cannot stand to find color on my heart, my mind or soul. Never mind those times it trails out of my mouth without consent. Out my mouth spilling onto the floor, ruining your day or your shoes, I can’t tell. And the response I receive is as many shades of red we could know. I almost don’t want to look anymore.  And so I care more about you than I… though I’m not sure God meant it like that anyhow. In fact, its clear I can’t please you and call myself His… And what if purple makes you want to puke in my mouth to help me understand how you really feel about the color. What if, when I tell of my love for yellow you wince or become concerned for my heart when you hear of my appreciation for red. Even worse, what if I told you one of my favorite colors to consume my proverbial life with is black. Deepening, rich, dark, beautiful black. How would you come to judge me then? I don’t even like orange, but if you like it, I’ll accept you anyhow.

I’m trying to do my best here, flashing all kinds of rainbows to please the color pallet of so many who claim love. But I’m realizing more and more, white is for walls of an insanity room; and I was made to shine a little more. I’ll paint myself white again, I’m sure. But I’ll learn to get used to dirty teals and dusting, whimsical shades of rose. Because that, my friend, is whom He’s creating me to be.