What is your favorite color? We are asked that from the time we are little. I have decided that mine is black. Although I have always been drawn to it, I've never claimed it as my favorite, but today I am. For some reason that I have never put into words, I have always felt that it is not supposed to be a favorite color. My art teachers would say black is not a color and, therefore, cannot be chosen as a favorite. Our culture says black is a symbol of death and would, thereby, be gruesome, sorrowful, or a sign of anarchy to choose. My fears say black is darkness and I am afraid of the dark, of what I cannot see or do not know.
Staring at Mary's multicolored butterfly shirt in front of me at church today I realized that black brings clarification; even just a little black. Although stunning in its own right, it does not glorify itself, but rather, defines and highlights the other colors near it. This is also true of sorrow. Although we do not seek sadness in our lives, we must admit that when even a little of it touches us, it can bring clarity. The important things and the simple happinesses of our lives are brightened and defined while the unnecessary clutter fades to the background.
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