White is the color of faith. Blinding, harsh, sharp enough to cut. Lonely. Cold. Like one who is in possession of a tiny candle in a limitless black, moving forward with faith can be terrifying.
When I was a Young Woman, we had a rappelling activity. (See, it wasn't all fluff and nonsense!) With an abiding
Setting my jaw in true German fashion, I screwed up my courage for the plunge. And then I peeked over the edge. The person holding the rope (the "belay" is the proper term, I believe) was none other than Brother Ham*, our resident ward clown. Brother Ham was a nice guy, one who appealed strongly to my practical joker side. However, Brother Ham was NOT the person I wanted for my belay on my very first attempt at conquering one of my greatest respects.
Despite this, I was determined to go ahead with it until he cracked a joke. I can't remember what he said, something to do with letting go and no need to worry, but I did not learn to rappel that day. Brother Ham was not the person I could put my faith in.
"Go, gather together all the Jews . . . and fast ye for me, and neither eat nor drink three days, night or day: I also and my maidens will fast likewise; and so will I go in unto the king, which is not according to the law: and if I perish, I perish."
Esther to Mordecai, Esther 4:16
Although faith can be cold and lonely at times, I have found it to often be like a warm, white down comforter. When my life is difficult—sometimes so difficult that giving up on my goals seems tempting—I know that when all the stress and loneliness is swept away, my faith in my Savior will always be there, like a white pearl at the bottom of a murky river bed. Unlike Brother Ham, He will not let me fall. (And if He does for some reason, I know He can heal me, literally and metaphorically.)
So when I think of the white of faith and my Young Women's experiences, and "when I think that God, His Son not sparing, sent Him to die," (LDS Hymns #86, How Great Thou Art) my faith in such a God and such a Son wraps around me like a warm down comforter, and I know that, come what may, my Savior lives and loves me. That faith gives me the courage necessary to take my tiny light and walk out into the darkness.
*names have been changed to protect the untrustworthy