Previous Challenge Entry (Level 2 – Intermediate)
Topic: Brown (11/26/09)
TITLE: The Color Of Honor
By Sylvia Brown
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If you ask women what would be the first thing that came to their minds when you mention the color brown, most of them would probably say, “chocolate”. However, for me, it’s usually things in nature, tree bark, hay bales, rocks, soil, etc. I’m well aware that some shades of brown are down right ugly. But, even as a child, I was always fond of a nice shade of brown. In grade school, I had a brown and white dress I liked a lot. Maybe it was a sign of things to come. When I grew up, I fell in love with and married
a man that bore the name of this color.
Many years later, one Sunday morning, sitting in worship service, I glanced sideways at my husband as he watched the pastor. My emotions were suddenly flooded with so much love for him and a sense of the ritchness of the gift I had been given when the Lord brought him into my life. On a page of my notebook, I wrote the following words. "J.D., men like him, you live in the essence of them. Many, too many women can't understand that. Such an idea would make them think of being totally consumed, surrounded, or smothered. But, it's not like that. Your a whole person, better, freer, and inwardly ritcher for being a part of them. They don't seek to overpowe. Instead, their being, their life, all that they are, emits an essence that draws and awes you. Your delight in love shown and life sharded are beyond words."
I intended to expound on the thought a bit, make a better copy, and give it to him. Our life was already hetic at the time, and shortly after that Sunday morning he was diagnosed with the illness that took him home to Heaven about a year later. After he passed, I found the note I had written. I regretted not getting around to giving it to him but, I knew where he was and felt that he knew all about it.
This man I had married did honor to the name he had given me. So, I've done my best to always do it honor too. Because of the legacy he left us, the ensuing generations also cherish what has been left to them. As for me, the sound of the word wil always say, "love"
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