My dear friend, Smartiplants, posted the following story on her blog. I'd never read it before and found it haunting - wondering how often in life we all have colored with dark crayons and been misunderstood. Or by default, played with whatever was left on the playground because the others were faster. Or had abundant food on the table simply because of the family we were born into. Um, I guess that's different.

Anyway, I liked the story and the multiple messages. I like the fact that though the little girl had only dark crayons, she forged forward and made the best with what she had... and never complained.

I liked her response to her parents because I wasn't expecting it.

While the little girl had no choice with the color of her crayons, she did have the choice to make the best of her situation.


Dark Crayons

The story goes that a teacher called in the parents of one of her little kindergarten students. It seemed, the teacher thought, that the little girl must have some serious issues that needed to be addressed because every picture the little girl colored had been done with dark crayons. This information was relayed to the parents.

Thankfully, the parents were wise, and simply asked their daughter about the colors she chose when she made her pictures.

The little girl replied, "Well, all the other kids are bigger than me and they get to all the pretty colors in the box first, so I get what's left".

*****

And then there are times we make choices wrapped in happy sacrifice. When we intentionally choose the dark crayons so others can have the pretty colors.

I just tried to Google a *story* about gristle, but couldn't find it. Maybe there isn't one. Maybe I made it up to suit my own life.

Gristle is chewy, rubbery, flavorless, and altogether unpleasant. Nobody likes gristle unless they are very much in love. I often gave myself the slice of meat with gristle so my family could have the best part. It's what we parents sometimes do - it's a happy sacrifice, and especially precious because it goes unnoticed. It's a private pact with the heart.

Over the years I've continued my practice of taking the less desirable slice of meat and have sometimes experienced epic failure. Upon reflection, I finally realized a common denominator to these failures. When I tell people my primary reason for failure, they're often puzzled when I simply say, "I ate too much gristle."

It's become my metaphor for explaining situations where I tried so hard, felt I gave so much, and perhaps short-changed my own self-worth...

Of important note, I've never ever regretted one bite of gristle I took for my children. *heart brimming with love and gratitude for them* But there comes a time in life when we need to put our own needs first. Um, I am such a liar. *laughing*