"Broken crayons still color." Broken women do too.

Perhaps you're one of them. You've been heartbroken, spiritually broken, or financially broke. You've been beaten up and washed down. Trampled over and ignored.

People tell you that your broken spirit is a testimony of endurance and faith; that it's a lesson in patience and trust. They say your broken heart is a resemblance of unrestricted love; of letting it all in. Yet none of that matters. Because you feel just as colorless as when it first happened. As when your heart first shattered. As when the crayon you used to color the veins of life flowing through you first broke.

But broken crayons still color. And broken women do too. You color the lives of those you share your story with. Of those you share your love with. Of those who witness your strength—and your weakness. Of those who see your smile in the midst of your sadness. Their lives are soaked with tints of yellow simply from knowing you. The brightest yellow you offer. A yellow that both blinds eyes, and represents sunshine. 

Your colorful spirit transforms the lives of those around you, with both your brokenness and your wholeness. Magical rainbows adorn images of you, for the love you share and the light you bring. You're the sunshine after the storm to many. And even in your moments of brokenness—of shattered pieces and lost hope—the bright sun peaks from beneath the cracks. The gray clouds, reminiscent to your mood, cannot diminish your brightness. The gray you use to depict your experience can't either.

You color with the words you expend. The words that only you can use to define your experience. The words you share with the world. You color with the emotions you pour out in your writing, in your song, or simply in your gaze. You color with everything you have left of you—using all the hues of blue you can find to express your sadness, and reds to express your anger. You color with the dreams you envision, sketching carefully each line of goals and adding bursts of purple for each accomplishment. You color with your eyes closed as the colors explode in your mind. Because while your brokenness is alive and well, your ability to see the future is too. You welcome the possibilities that lie ahead and excite in the opportunity of them becoming real.

Broken crayons still color. Broken women do too. Your brokenness is what makes the colors flow more meaningfully. It's your experience, lessons and mistakes that truly decorate the canvass. It's what draws people nearer to both the art and the artist. Your brokenness is the muse for the masterpiece you're creating. And whether you intend to show it, or it seeps through the cracks, your brokenness is there; it's alive; and it's beautiful. It's every bit of life you need to endure for the story you will create, and every bit of color you'll need for the picture you're perfecting.