Roy G. Biv
I have a box of 120 limited edition Crayola crayons. I’ve had it many years, since my kids were quite young.
That’s a lot of crayons.
My kids always used to ask to use my crayons. My answer was 100% consistent:
It wasn’t that I wanted to be selfish with my crayons. It’s just that I’d seen their crayons. Their crayons were all broken and missing their labels and wrappers, and the box they came in was long ago demolished and lost.
In other words, I had a pristine box of adult cared-for crayons, and they had a pile of little kid crayon stubs and bits, complete with stray pennies, lone marker caps, and bits of lint and fuzz.
Generosity may have wanted to share my crayons, but wisdom couldn’t come up with one solid reason why it would be a good idea. The kids loved crayons but weren’t mature enough to treat them like the grown-up art supplies that they were to me. Their value for the crayons and my value for the crayons was totally different.
Many times I see people treating their own lives like a box of kid crayons. It’s often in the name of being “nice”, which is usually another term for “fear of rejection”. It’s an easy trap to fall into, really. We forget to value what God has done and is doing in us and in our lives, and we permit too much access—or the wrong kind of access—to folks who then take their cues from us about how much value we deserve. We end up in situations that don’t line up with who God is making us to be.
We forget we’re worth diligent care and wise stewardship.
So here’s to you, Ms. Cornflower Blue and Mr. Forest Green, little Red Violet and lovely Orchid. You are worth handling with care. You’re worth a place where you will be protected and guarded with wisdom. You are unique, and nobody can take your place. When the people around you look to you for cues to know how to treat you (and they will), let them see that you hold God’s work in you in high regard.
You are, after all, fine art.