Markers

I bought markers yesterday. Bright, colorful, “Preferred by Teachers” Crayola markers. I’d outdistanced Jonathan in the store so I was just pulling my selection off the shelf when he came up. He was, understandably, confused. “Why are you buying markers?”  And I was, still understandably, kind of embarrassed.

I’m buying markers because, while my eyelid has stopped twitching, except for that split second when I was drinking caffeine, I am still stressed. Nothing I’ve done so far has been sufficient so now I’m trying markers.

I’ve got my thousandth cup of tea at my elbow, my soul feels full from this morning spent with God and His people, and when this post is written, posted and linked I am going to color.

I’d like to say I’m going to ‘draw’- it sounds so much more mature, sophisticated, a worthwhile task for a full grown adult.  But I’ve tried ‘drawing’ and I’m terrible at it. My brain looks around blankly and then starts babbling about how much fun words are while my hand meanders around the page like a drunken toddler. All my lines wobble until I want them to and I end up with yet another page full of geometric shapes. So, ‘drawing’, the mature sophisticated activity, is right out.

Coloring on the other hand, I haven’t tried in years.

Color for the sake of color, lines that go nowhere suddenly changing from red to purple to green just for the sake of making the page brighter. There doesn’t have to be a greater purpose when one is coloring. We’ve relegated it to a child’s activity and so, like a child, I’m hoping to enjoy the moment without thinking about it so hard.

It’s part of my flailing, my experiment to find what soothes these frazzled nerves. Maybe it will be successful or maybe I’ll have to try something else. Either way I’m still moving forward which, for now, is enough.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some coloring to see to.