I used to only wear black. Not in a gothic way. Black because it was slimming. I could hide behind it. It was vogue. I still gravitate towards black. But there are moments when I throw a bucket of color into life. I take that back, God deluges my life with color . . . as if we bought all the paint at Porters. Like four children, when we were supposed to have none. Three boys. A surprise baby girl. A dog dying. A new furry creature that falls into our laps soon after. A chance to reenter the mission field. These things only define approximately the past year. Those moments add color. Texture. They blend to create defining moments. Hopeful moments. Moments that bring my knees down hard onto the floor. A black long sleeve shirt is safe. But a pink top over it, makes it sassy. It says, “I’m alive.” 
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