The Beautiful Simplicity of Color: What Crayons (and Downsizing) Are Teaching Me

 

I love watching our younger students draw with Crayons. Honestly, I still get goosebumps watching our own grandkids get lost in the magic of Crayola, the same way their parents did, and truth be told, the same way we still do from time to time.

There’s something sacred about that simple joy: the way a child grips a crayon like they’re holding the whole world, the way a fridge becomes a museum, the way a stick figure with wild hair and five fingers on one hand can melt your heart.

Here’s the best part: We don’t need the 96-count collector’s edition or the 120-box tower of colors to make that magic happen. Most of the masterpieces hanging on refrigerators across America were made with 16 to 24 colors… tops. And that’s more than enough.

In a world that constantly pressures us to buy bigger, upgrade sooner, and accumulate more, stepping into a preschool art corner feels like stepping into a sanctuary of truth. Kids reach for what they need, not for what society says they should own.

And funny enough… that lesson has been echoing through my own life lately. Somewhere between raising a family, building careers, and keeping up with the “latest and greatest,” my wife and I accumulated… well… a lot. Complete sets. Newest models. Limited editions. You name it.

We weren’t hoarders, just lifelong members of the “you never know when you might need this” club. But as the years went on, something shifted. Maybe it was age. Maybe it was wisdom. Maybe it was realizing how quickly yesterday’s “must-haves” end up as donations lined up on the shelves at Goodwill or St. Vincent de Paul.

So we began downsizing. Not to a smaller home, just to a smaller life in the best possible way. We discovered something surprising: living with less felt like living with more. More peace. More space. More appreciation. More moments together.

Just like a child with a handful of crayons, we found that we already had what we needed. Crayola gave us "lessons" we forget as adults. Crayola sells boxes of 24, 64, 96, 120, and now 152. And they’re fun. Colorful. Joyfully unnecessary.

But the truth is this: Most people only use about 16–24 colors. The rest are variations, embellishments, and novelty shades that look impressive but rarely get worn down.

And isn’t that just like life? We chase bigger boxes: newer phones, more storage, updated gadgets, the shiniest models. When in reality, most of our “masterpieces” are created with a very small set of essentials: faith, family, friendships, meaningful work, quiet moments, and shared memories.  All the extras? Fun, but not required to live a good, full, beautiful life.

We're now living in the 24-Color Version of Life. The older I get, the more I realize that joy isn’t found in accumulation; it's found in appreciation. Kids teach us that every day. Give a child a broken crayon, and they’ll create a universe. Give an adult a house full of gadgets, and we often feel overwhelmed.

So now, my wife and I are embracing our “24-color life.” The essentials. The meaningful pieces. The colors that actually get used. We love living with less, noticing more, and letting go of the pressure to have the biggest box on the shelf. Maybe that’s where the masterpieces were hiding all along.