What Color is God?

The answer to what color God is lies in the title of my favorite book, “The Color of Water.” It is one of the most interesting titles I have ever heard. Why, I’ll tell you.

The title of this book was derived from a conversation the author, James McBride, had with his mother when he asked her what color God was and she responded, “the color of water.” The subtitle and premise of the book is this: A black man’s tribute to his white mother. The book is a unique blend of his mother’s life one chapter and then his the next. This book is a testament to how life can seem so messy at times, but as we progress we see the work of art our life becomes.

McBride wrote this book to honor his mother, even though while he was growing up he didn’t understand her and a lot of the things she did. She was a Jewish woman born in 1921 who was considered dead by her family when she married an African American man. The author was raised in Brooklyn’s Red Hook projects with an eccentric mother who was widowed twice and was the mother of twelve children. Her two driving forces were God and that her children get an education, primarily college.

There are few books I actually read all the way through, yet it was a welcome elixir for my soul at a time after I had suffered great loss. This book brought me back to reality and also helped me escape my hardships at the same time.

Although I enjoyed reading this book, I probably would never have picked it up had I not met James during a service call, while I was an exterminator several years ago. He was a unique and engaging man in his forties with a quick wit, someone you would want to hang out with. After we talked for a while he gave me a signed copy addressed to all the members of my family. Usually an author’s signature is not something I value, but genuine thoughts like his are. It was his personal touch that helped me embrace this book.

So that is why "The Color of Water" is my favorite book. Not because James McBride is a renowned jazz musician or a onetime writer for the Washington Post, but because he became real to me and I wanted to know more from someone whose perspective fascinated me. It was as if he were speaking the words to me and only me. His book encouraged me to keep on trying despite how hard life can be at times and never be afraid to ask questions, even if the answers are illusive.

“The worth of a book is to be measured by what you can carry away from it.” James Bryce

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The Color of Her Crayons

As children we are often told to color inside the lines, even though some of the world's most famous artists didn't seem to follow that concept when making their masterpieces. Actually, I believe the color you choose to draw or paint with is even more important, especially when it comes to life.

Several months ago, my wife and I were out in our storage shed searching for a winter coat for our youngest daughter. As I was checking through the pockets of the coat we had found, I discovered six Crayola crayons. This may seem like an insignficant find to most, but to me, it was gold. These crayons were last used by my oldest daughter before she passed away (at 7 years old). The colors I found were: yellow, carnation, brick red, apricot, magenta, and orange.

The crayons now sit prominently on my work desk and as I gaze at each one, there is a specific thought or word that comes to my mind. Yellow means bright. Carnation reminds me of the flower. Brick red means hard work. Apricot reminds me of fruit. Magenta reminds me of the dog on Blue’s Clues, and orange, being my favorite color, means fire or passion. If I had to draw with those six colors, from a seven year old’s perspective, it would look like this: orange man, with a magenta dog, picking an apricot off a tree, with a brick red house in the background, carnation flowers next to the house, and lastly, a bright yellow sun in the sky.

I believe the colors we choose to use in our everyday life are important. Are we using angry words like, black, or sad colors like, blue, if we are discouraged? After I lost my daughter, these are the colors I chose to draw with. Orange was and is my favorite color, but for years I put it away or maybe I just refused to use it. It just didn’t seem appropriate, but now I've realized that all six colors my daughter had been using are bright colors. These colors show up best when used on a dark background. God has taught me yet again how children, even unknown to them, can teach us powerful lessons. The darkness and depression I was in for so many years, has set the background that now can be used to draw brilliant pictures I never imagined possible.

Perhaps when choosing a color to draw with for the day, we should choose a bright one.

“The soul becomes dyed with the color of its thoughts.” ~ Marcus Aurelius

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Let's Talk

Believe it or not, this was not how I planned on spending my Memorial Day weekend, on my posterior with my leg up. It does, however, give me a lot of time to feel sorry for myself. But somewhere in my head I heard a voice telling me to, "suck it up, Nancy," actually it was my sister-in-law. Then I turned my attention toward other things, namely this blog. I wonder at times if we all don't have thoughts like Jimmy Stewart's character did in, "It's a Wonderful Life" that the world might be better off without us and then unwittingly start to live a self-defeating life. We may never commit suicide, but we act so depressed and miserable that others tend to avoid us.

I speak from experience because when my seven year old daughter died, ten years ago, my heart was so broken I struggled in every aspect of life. Often I would ask questions like, "why" and my response always seemed to be, "I just don't know why" and in turn the answer would infuriate me. Maybe, and I'm just spit balling here, when I finally said, "why not" life started to become enjoyable again. When I started to take everyday as it came, not trying to analyze it so much, the color started to come back into life and the gray slowly faded. In time, I also started to smile more, whistle more, and sing along with songs on the radio again, poorly might I add, but in my own strange way I was living again.

One day I was driving, singing, and bobbing my head to a song on the radio when a truck full of construction workers began to make gestures ridiculing me, but I never noticed. My friends told me later that the guys in the truck just gave up in disgust when they couldnt get under my skin. Perhaps, we often focus too much on the negative, instead of the positive.

When I was an exterminator, there was certain customer I always looked forward to servicing on my route. He was an older, distinguished gentleman who had a particular way of putting me at ease. After every service, I would sit down at his kitchen table as he would get out a glass, add ice, and then pour me a Coke. We would then just talk about life, about the day, about family, about whatever. Just like two old friends would do. After about ten minutes, he would write me a check for the appropriate amount and I would pack up my stuff and leave. Somehow I always felt better when I left his house, I felt more alive.

Man vs. quad: Chalk one up for the quad because the last few days have been uncomfortable. A trip back to the doctor who ordered an ultrasound to check for clots. Thankfully no clots, but more elevation, ice, and meds. But, today is a new day, full of adjustments and full of hope.

Regardless of your circumstances, may it be said of you as it was Winston Churchill,"never surrender".

Swavel