Let Them Make It Beautiful

Have you ever been coloring with your three-year-old and suddenly found yourself really into it? Like, all of a sudden, that smiling giraffe with the friendly ladybug—who, let’s be honest, probably doesn’t even live on the African plains—matters. You’ve outlined every spot with precision. The tongue jauntily hanging out of its mouth is the perfect shade of strawberry red. The shading? Impeccable.

And then, just as you're admiring your masterpiece, a precious little hand juts out from under your elbow holding the worst possible shade of yellow-green. A tiny voice says, “I help you make it better.”

My palms are sweating just thinking about it.

That quick, gut-wrenching twist of grief for what was hits you—hard—for about .2 seconds. You muster a whisper: “Oh, thank you so much, that’s just what it needed.” Then you sit back and let the chaos commence. Swaths of mismatched color flood everything you spent the last eight minutes so carefully creating.

What is that feeling? And why does it come on so strong? It was just a random page in the Happy Animals coloring book you picked up at Ollie’s for $1.50. Honestly, you didn’t even want to color the giraffe in the first place. But somehow, it became important.

Sometimes, I think that feeling stems from fear. As a stay-at-home mom, I’ve boxed up so much of myself and gently set it aside in order to build this family I love so dearly. Not that I’ve done it perfectly—but I’ve certainly poured my heart into it. And when you invest so much of yourself into something, it’s hard not to want to control every aspect. Every variable. Every interaction. Every outcome. Every tiny moment.

That need for control can slowly tie itself to the core of who you are. With every tug, it becomes another thread binding you to a false reality—one where messes are mistakes and interruptions are failures. I’ve become Gulliver, tied down by the tiniest ropes on the island of Lilliput.

But life is messy. And yes, structure is necessary. Rules matter. Boundaries are important. But also—what can you say yes to today? What sweet, unexpected beauty are your children trying to add to your life that, in the moment, doesn’t seem to fit your narrative?

Because here’s the thing: One day, you’ll dig out that old coloring book from the bottom of the art closet. You’ll flip through the pages during a triumphant purge and stumble upon that cheerful little giraffe. And you might even find yourself longing to smell that awful yellow-green crayon again. Because your baby made those marks. With soft, slightly sticky hands gripping that crayon so tightly it left a little crinkle on the page.

Isn’t that the moment we’re trying to craft?

Without the wild colors that don’t belong in Africa on a giraffe, all you have is a really good coloring job—done by a thirty-something woman. Is that the picture you’re going to tear out and tape to the fridge?

No, friend.

So today, just for a moment, let them make it beautiful.