The Lost Crayon

Many of you probably have no idea what year Crayola first introduced its new crayon packaging that contained a built-in sharpener or how many crayons said history-making packaging held. It was 1958 (one year before I was born), and the box had a whopping … wait for it … a whopping 64 Crayola crayons. That's right … 64 crayons … 64 different colors … AND a built-in crayon sharpener on the back of the box.

I totally remember the day I finally convinced my mom that I really, really, really needed her to buy me one of the super-awesome boxes of 64 Crayola crayons with the built-in sharpener on the back. I had been begging for the then "biggest box of crayons ever" for months, and Mom finally said yes. Right smack dab in the middle of the Zayre Department Store in downtown Chattanooga, Mom finally said yes to buying the crayons for me. I remember that day like it was yesterday ... the slight smile on Mom's face as she handed me the green and yellow box of crayons ... the feel of the box in my hands as we walked through the store ... the anticipation bubbling inside of me to color in my favorite Batman coloring book ... the smell of the crayons as I opened the box when we got home. You bet I remember that day, friends ... I remember that day because it was, without a doubt, one of the greatest days of my little girl life.

All was well and life was good for my young self until the fateful day when I came home from school, opened my beloved box of Crayola Crayons and discovered that one of the crayons was missing. And not just any old crayon, mind you ... it was, and still remains, one of my all-time favorite colors. That's right, friends ... I opened my beloved box of 64 Crayola Crayons with the built-in sharpener on the back to find the Brick Red crayon was missing. Of all the crayons to disappear, why, oh, why did it have to be Brick Red? I managed to remain relatively calm as I searched every nook and cranny in my little bedroom for the missing crayon, but when I realized it wasn't anywhere in my room, sheer and utter panic engulfed me as I raced through the rest of the house trying desperately to find my dear friend Brick Red. I won't admit to how long I looked for that crayon or to how long I was consumed by an overwhelming sadness over its loss, but I will confess to crying myself to sleep over losing my very special crayon friend … not only that night but for more than a few nights afterward as well.

I bet you're probably thinking the same thing my mom and dad did regarding Brick Red's sudden disappearance … it was just a crayon for gosh sake's and I still had 63 others, including at least 10 variations of the color red. But none of those 63 crayons were Brick Red … Brick Red was special. It was my go-to crayon … my one crayon that somehow managed to give even my ugliest coloring projects a spark of beauty. And believe me, friends, I had some really, really, really ugly coloring projects back then. Brick Red was the crayon that seemed to never get dull or need sharpening, even though I colored with it almost every day ... it was like the Energizer Bunny in the world of crayons. But the most special thing about my old pal Brick Red? The thing that made it so important to me? That one crayon somehow made me believe I was capable of creating a masterpiece. In many ways, that crayon made me believe I was a masterpiece.

By now you're probably scratching your head and wondering why in the heck I'm writing about losing a crayon 50 years ago, especially on the first day of a new year. But I do have a reason, and even a legitimate one at that, for my subject choice for this the first day of 2019. You see, friends, Brick Red's departure from my crayon collection was about more than just losing my favorite crayon. When I lost that crayon, I lost my desire to color at all. The truth is I didn't even open the box of crayons for a very, very long time. Why? Because I was so afraid of losing another crayon that I didn't even attempt to create anything with the crayons I had left. I was terrified by the thought that my masterpiece-creating days were over. I cringed in fear as my once-held belief that I was a masterpiece fell in shards all around my scared, lonely heart. I was afraid ... plain and simple ... I was afraid. I was afraid of once again losing something that had been so special ... so dear ... so precious to me.

I'm guessing many of you agree that fear is an extremely powerful emotion, one that's capable of sidelining a great big bunch of us ... at least I know that's true for me. In my 59 years of life, fear has kept me from doing or saying or being lots of things far more important than coloring in a Batman coloring book. Fear is one tough cookie, let me tell you, and once it's sunk its claws into my mind about a certain thing, it's harder than soap scum in a teenage boy's bathroom to get rid of. Take flying, for example ... I'm not nearly as afraid of getting on a plane as I once was, but I can promise you that the day before I know I have to board the sky monster, that old fear comes marching right back in and tries to convince me not to get on the flight. Fear tells me I'm sick and shouldn't fly. Fear tells me there will be a hijacker on the plane and I shouldn't fly. Fear tells me I'll get motion sick and have to puke in one of those tiny bags ... oh, wait, that actually happened to me once so that disqualifies that one as fear and slides it squarely into the category of reality. But the truth remains ... fear is a powerful emotion, one that can absolutely knock the life out of me if I let it.

A lot of folks use the beginning of a new year as their springboard for change, or at least they say they're going to change some things in their lives anyway. We all know that oftentimes those New Year's resolutions fall by the wayside far more quickly than we're willing to admit. With each new year, we proclaim that things will be different ... we proclaim that we'll be different and I think most of us sincerely believe that will be the case when we set forth our proclamations, myself included. Which is why I'm not making a specific list this year of what I would like to change in the coming year. Instead, I've decided to cover my desires for self-improvement in this new year with a "No Fear" blanket. No fear of living life to its absolute fullest. No fear of what tomorrow may or may not bring. No fear of judgment from others. No fear of loving and caring and doing for others. No fear of doing me the very best way I know how.

Who would've thunk a lost crayon from so many years ago could still be teaching me lessons today? Who would've thunk it indeed? Happy new year, friends ... cheers to creating and being masterpieces of your very own.