SCS Designs Co. – Handcrafted Art & Creative Journey

"Learning to Trust the Creative Process: A Self-Taught Artist's Perspective"

recent posts

about

  • “Begin.”

    “Begin.”

    “Begin.” A word with a lot of meanings when you use it to describe what you hope to do in the upcoming year.

    I’m not writing this as a big announcement or a promise that I’ll do everything perfectly. It’s more like a marker in the ground: I’m beginning again — slowly, honestly, and with God at the center.

    For me, “begin” means starting from the basics and evaluating each area of my life — relearning things I’ve forgotten over time, and finding ways to be more efficient where I can. It also means a kind of evolution: changing behaviors and habits, starting projects, and not making excuses to myself about why I haven’t done what’s been pressed on my heart for months.

    No matter how I do it, I need to begin.

    Art and Creativity

    While I’ve been creating artwork since 2016, I haven’t been super proactive about posting my creations since 2020 (yep — Covid zapped my initiative there). It’s been long enough to wallow in fear, uncertainty, and general lack of confidence.

    This means my Etsy store will be getting an update, and then as I create items, they’ll be posted. No bells and whistles, and no trying to chase trends I’m not familiar with — just authentic creations inspired by whatever strikes my fancy in the moment. And honestly, that might mean I hang out for a while on the same kinds of pieces… and that’s perfectly fine.

    This also means a reset of authentic pricing — not selling myself short out of fear of rejection, or fear that someone won’t like what I make. There’s a little something for everyone… and at the same time, not everything will be everyone’s cup of tea. At the end of the day, it’s the act of creating — and what God does in me through the process — that will mean the most. The artwork is the end result, but it’s not the entire journey.

    One of my dreams/goals is to make art accessible, even for people who don’t feel like they “can” make art. That means demonstrating different mediums, styles, and ways of creating. Some of it is intuitive, but a lot of it comes from unlocking pieces of ourselves that we all have: curiosity, resourcefulness, and the ability to notice inspiration everywhere.

    I want to help people tap into that, and then use whatever means works for them to create something from it — drawing, painting, crafting with glue and paper, photography, or anything else that captures what held their attention and fed that inner spark.

    I’d love to work with all ages, but especially teens and adults who are looking for a new hobby, projects that help them feel grounded when struggling with mental health needs, or even a way to connect socially.

    What will this look like? I’m really not sure yet. But a few ideas are to bring back some live streams with more of a game plan — set “lessons” or projects we work through together. I’ll also share process videos in the places I already show up (FB/IG/TikTok/YouTube).

    One day, I’d love to set up mini workshops in-person, but that’s probably way down the line. In 2026, though, I hope to do a couple family/friend “test runs” to get feedback on what works and what doesn’t. If you’re in the Abilene area and interested in participating, give me a shout or drop a comment to let me know.

    Writing and Publishing

    2025 came with some experimenting in a different creative pursuit: Amazon KDP (Kindle Direct Publishing) and Pocket FM. I also started my blog here (of course!), wrote articles on Medium, and posted regular content for engagement with the communities I’ve built on Facebook and Instagram.

    Toward the end of the year, I started working on a long-term story that initially had one chapter posted each day. I’m honestly not sure I’ll be able to maintain that kind of schedule with everything else I’m interested in doing — but regular updates will continue so readers can keep up with the citizens of Brushwood Hollow and find out what’s happening with the Ashford family and friends in He’s Always Watching.

    In the fall, I had a sudden burst of inspiration for another story — though this one is a little more therapeutic for me. Called Fractured Walls, it begins with a woman standing outside a derelict manor with little to no memory of herself or why she’s there — just an urgent sense that she needs to find something, vague flickers of past events teasing her thoughts, and a note in her pocket.

    It’s a psychological mystery/thriller that nearly wrote itself in one go while I was drawing one night. I get the feeling it won’t stop dancing in my head until I have the whole thing written out… but it’s being done in short bursts as the storyline evolves.

    I’ve also started writing and publishing devotionals — and this is by far the area I’ve been most excited about. The topics I’m working with right now focus on doubt and anxiety, leadership, overcoming negative self-talk, and developing compassion for ourselves.

    Most of these follow a simple template: scripture, reflection, prayer, and a writing prompt. But I’ve also started one that includes a love letter from God that reveals a truth we often forget, and then moves into reflection and other pieces to highlight the heart of that truth. I’ve been able to include my own drawings too, which has been a really meaningful way to merge several creative passions into one creation.

    At the end of the day, these devotionals mean a lot to me because I’m hoping they resonate with the people who read them. If it helps someone see God’s love a little clearer, then I’m happy.

    Nature, Sustainability, and Creating a Personal Retreat

    2025 has been the year of doctor appointments and trying to figure out some health things that have been lingering for several years. Along the way, I’ve realized sustainability and self-sufficiency (especially with our ingredients and where we get them from) is something I really want to work on.

    I’m also drawn to plants, flowers, and the essential act of caring for living things and watching how they mature over time.

    After kicking ideas around throughout the year — plus a couple failed starts — I’ve resolved that even if it’s just 15–20 minutes a day, I can still make progress. I may not have tons of energy, but I can get outside and work a small section of the yard each day, or care for the plants I’ve started fitting into random areas all over the house.

    I’ve also done a lot of research and experimenting with propagation and “Frankenstein” produce (the kind you can regrow from what you buy at the store: pineapple, green onions, lettuce, and anything that houses a seed). I even tossed around a few garden nursery names if I ever pursued something like that — Franken-Eats and Zombie Growing were a couple of the quirky daydreams — but I don’t have a solid plan to pursue that right now.

    Rather than a nursery, the bigger idea is to build up the front and back yards into places I can retreat when I need time with nature… and a space where I can honor my Opa’s memory. The garden he had when I was growing up was a place of adventure for a kid. I loved walking the paths and exploring all the plant life tucked into different zones, nooks, and crannies. The air felt fresher in Opa’s garden, and it always brought a deep sense of peace.

    While I hope to capture a piece of that, I also hope it can serve other purposes too: food that can be shared beyond our family needs, a way to connect with neighbors and community, a place to sit and rest, a cutting garden to share flowers from, a hobby of propagating and sharing young plants and seeds, a place to create plein air paintings, a spot to invite friends and family to… and more.

    Faith Journey and Calling

    All of these ideas keep resonating with me, and I keep feeling that nudge — like when God is trying to tell you something.

    It’s not something I can fully explain, but there’s something here He’s wanting me to work on. It might be that these projects are just a season — one where I learn and grow, and then have something to look back on as proof that I can tackle future challenges. But I think it’s more than that.

    In all the work I’ve done, it’s been service-driven. And all these things I’ve been doing — art, hobby gardening, writing, and everything else over the years — are starting to come into focus as a way of connecting with people in different ways for different needs they have.

    Anyone who hears all of this, and also knows me and the other things I balance (a full-time job, family, volunteer commitments, the health needs I mentioned, and my tendency to run hard with an idea and then taper off…) might think, “Oh, that’s nice…”

    But I can’t stop thinking about these things. They don’t just go away. If it was a passing thought, it would’ve already come and gone — but these have continued to evolve and morph into a more condensed version of the original ideas for years.

    And that’s what keeps me from letting them go.

    It’s also because I think they’ll help me accomplish my last goal: to be closer to God. I believe these “random” projects, if done with Him at the forefront, can come to fruition. And in leaning into what I sense He’s telling me, these ideas can have an impact that goes way beyond me — and that’s what I really want from it all.

    Something that reflects the calling God has for me.

    So… I’ll begin.

    I’ll keep working incrementally, and I’ll lean on quiet time with God for guidance and clarity on how this is supposed to come together. I’m going to work with Him on my anxiety and doubt, but still step forward — so that 2026 is the beginning of whatever beautiful plans He has.

  • Finding Gratitude in the Messy Middle

    Finding Gratitude in the Messy Middle

    Some days, little things just make me want to gripe. But at the end of the day, I know I don’t have it nearly as bad as so many people around the world—those battling malnourishment, persecution, hate crimes, family violence, addiction, loss, and so much more.

    Please hear my heart: I know the things that trouble me are nothing compared to the grand scheme of what our world endures in the face of darkness and evil.

    But we’re human. And while it’s important to keep that global context in mind, it’s also important not to reduce our own struggles so much that we start to feel unworthy, unimportant, or like what we’re dealing with is “all in our head.” We’re not wasting anyone’s time by advocating for a little less pain or a little more peace.

    So again, I find myself asking: when it comes to always giving thanks—what about those times when things aren’t going well?

    There’s no perfect answer. Each of us has to find our own way through that question, using our own experiences as a guide.

    For me, two big truths come to mind:

    1. I am not alone.
    2. I’ve overcome things before.

    You and I aren’t alone—we have the support of an amazing God who wants to walk with us in both the good and the hard times. He listens, really listens, celebrating the positives and grieving with us in the struggles. That’s why I try to keep up my daily prayer time. I don’t want Jesus to think I only come to Him with problems—I want Him in everything I do. Staying close in conversation makes it easier to hear Him when I need counsel, or at least to be open to His answers, even if they come in unexpected ways.

    And I remind myself: I’ve made it through tough things before. If I could do it once, I can do it again. But I also know I don’t have to do it alone. While the positive thinking and mental work is mine to do, I lean on the support of family and friends for the rest. Whether it’s advice from their own journeys, sharing a laugh, or just helping out with daily life, my support team is elemental. Together with faith, they help me keep fear and doubt from overtaking trust in God.

    So at the end of the day, gratitude weaves through every changing season. I can still find something to be thankful for in every moment—even if I have to squint a little to see it.

    Some days feel like a gentle sunrise. Others, like a giant wave crashing over me. No matter what kind of day it is, I notice how faith helps me hold both the beauty and the messiness of life. And honestly? It’s that beauty and messiness that makes it all worth pushing forward for the next experience, leaning on Jesus for support and guidance.

    How are you finding gratitude in every season? What helps you stay grounded, even in life’s messiest moments?

  • Quiet Moments

    Quiet Moments

    Quiet moments can shape our whole day.

    Sometimes the only calm I find is in the soft light before the house wakes up. My sketchbook open and coffee cooling beside me, I breathe in the hush and ask God for just enough peace to meet what’s next.

    I’m working on rebuilding quiet into my day.

    Right now, it starts with adding in a morning routine of getting up ahead of my alarm. Any amount of time before my alarm is scheduled to go off is mine to enjoy, and gives me incentive to be up and about before it rings.

    Sometimes, the morning starts with taking inventory of myself, my thoughts, and where I’m at mentally. Those are the days I stay a bit longer in bed, but alert and processing through the tangle of feelings and worries.

    Other days, I’m up immediately to let our fur kiddos out (proud mama of 3 dogs, as well as a thriving almost-14-year-old) and set up my coffee to brew. Then I find one of my comfort spots for relaxing and meeting God before everything else happens.

    Sometimes, it’s working on a devotional or Bible study, other times I just meditate and allow myself to be open to his prodding. Sometimes it’s drawing while talking to God, or journaling my prayer talk with him. Other times, it’s working on a puzzle and soaking up time with our pups, accepting their warmth and companionship.

    God has a lot of different stories and ideas he works through with me. He definitely had fun when he set up my personality and various gifts/skills.

    It’s incredible to reflect on the way God has guided me through creative brainstorming to these amazing inspirations that simply take my own breath away; like, “really? I did that?” It’s equally fascinating when he does nothing but ease me back into moments of quiet reflection and serenity. He truly knows what I need in each moment, so long as I allow myself to be led by him.

    My favorite way to spend quiet time is with my journal — writing out my conversations with God is cathartic and grounding on so many levels.

    When I reach the level of flow I usually have with my artwork, it’s like everything fades to the background and it’s just the two of us. The ‘talk’ shifts back and forth and I truly feel heard and answered.

    I have the times I let my mind wander through all my different thoughts while drawing or writing, asking God to highlight the ideas and tasks that I need to capture and remember – these become my focus points during the day. But the rest is like a giant brain dump, releasing me to wipe the slate clean; to release whatever unnecessary things I’m carrying and put them to rest for good.

    These quiet moments of reflection help me ease into the unknown of the day and are my safety net — my opportunity to intentionally focus on where I want my mind to be as I start my day.

    What does your morning look like?

    If you want, try this: pause for a single deep breath, and whisper a prayer for steady hands and a gentle heart today.

    Share your favorite quiet ritual below, or just let me know if you need a prayer friend this week. ☕🕊️

  • Pause and Listen

    Pause and Listen

    When did you last pause and listen?

    Sometimes, in the swirl of creative projects and the everyday rush of parenting, it feels like the quiet moments slip away before we notice. I find myself reflecting on how easily I fill the silence—whether with art, prayer, or just the hum of laundry tumbling in the next room.

    I’m trying to seek intentional pause in my days: a cup of coffee slowly sipped, turning the TV off early in the evening, read a physical book and marking things direct in the pages that speak to me, and even cuddling our pups close and listening to their breathing when they relax against me to nap.

    These little moments feel like something I’ve been chasing lately – like fireflies dancing in the wind. And when I realize what I’ve found, I can’t help but pause — pause and drink in the beauty of finally capturing a brief moment of calm that sustains me when life gets busy.

    I have to laugh. This is nothing I would have wanted as ‘Past Me’. The quiet would have been too much like giving up on an adventure, or something I would sit in anxiously rather than peacefully.

    But now I crave this reflective time, enjoying observing and listening rather than being in the center of it all. This evolution is a change of priorities, realignment of where my focus is nowadays, and also self-care from being part of the chaotic secular world. A world that constantly pushes for more action than introspect, and claims we fall behind when we lack ‘hustle’.

    But it’s the hustle itself that these glimmers of time pushes away when God aligns our path with them. He truly knows what we need and my guess? It’s quiet time for me in this season of life. It’s reflecting and, while I’m still up for adventure, it’s more “smelling the roses” than it is being an adrenaline junkie.

    What does it look like for you to make space for God’s gentle voice amid your daily rhythms? I’d love to hear how you find (or miss) those pockets of stillness in your own season of life.

    Let’s share and encourage each other today. 🍂

  • “Give Yourself Some Grace…”

    “Hi, my name is Samantha… and I”m a perfectionist with OCD.” “Hi, Samantha.”

    Yep – I’m a perfectionist with OCD, but not in the way you would attribute to these behaviors. I’m not the person who has everything color coded, unless you’re talking about my spreadsheets (LOVE my spreadsheets!), or the person who has everything pristine-clean and stacked exactly so, or any of the other random ideas you probably have of either of these.

    Now, you may be thinking, ‘Samantha, you already shared this – we know.’ But this post is about grace, and it’s hard for me to talk about grace without highlighting these two attributes for myself. I think, when you consider your own life, you’ll see something there that you can replace either of these with, and find that it is an exact fit for you, too.

    Like I said, both of these behaviors manifest in different ways, for different situations. While I can have a bit of the quintessential qualities, most of mine are produced in silence. Just looking from the outside in, you won’t notice that these are two things I grapple with on a daily basis. Some days I come out the winner, and other days I just accept the loss – but never forget.

    I’m a planner, and when I invest a lot of thought and consideration into a project, it’s disappointing when it doesn’t come out the way I expected – but I pivot and trick my brain into thinking the new direction is what we really wanted the whole time.

    I’m detail-oriented and compartmentalize, but sometimes don’t know how to integrate this in with others. That’s why, working in a position where I’m solo for certain tasks is perfect. I keep my responsibilities plugged into labeled folder tiers for digital archiving and binders for specific categories that I have physical items for. When life gets crazy, I hit a ‘reset day’ and focus on just the organization and putting the system back together. (This one is definitely an OCD habit – because the satisfaction of ‘everything has a place, everything has a home’ being fulfilled gives me such a sense of peace.)

    I can hyper-focus and crank out a high-volume of quality productivity, but there are things that have to be in place for it to happen. I keep a notebook next to me for when random ideas (which happen all the time) suddenly hit, I have timers set to get up and talk to people, use the restroom, or eat food (otherwise I completely forget these things – people then ask if I’m ok or they think I’m hiding, I get sick, or end up having brain fog from inadequate brain fuel), and I have to wear noise-cancelling headphones and know that I’m not officially responsible for anything but the task I’m working on in the moment (meaning someone else is covering the other tasks) — otherwise, I’ll greet every sound of the door, react to every ping of email to knock it out immediately, or even get distracted by new ideas/brainstorming when someone talks about new projects – even when they didn’t ask for help. This is especially distressful when someone is really needing something specific from me that I should have been working on the whole time but got distracted.

    You can pivot, reorganize, ignore, and all the other things for a while, but when other essential well-being functions slip, like proper nutrition, self-care, adequate sleep, etc… those are the days that the resilience of overcoming these behaviors is lost, leading to a ‘loss’ for the day.

    And here’s the part where most people say the same thing: “Give yourself some grace…”

    Yep – title statement and the main point of my post today.

    I’m the first to admit, I beat myself up over the shortfalls I have, or blame myself when things are actually outside of my control. I’m not perfect – while I strive for the fulfillment of what my brain considers to be the ‘perfect’ completion of a task or goal, I’m not.

    And when things trigger depression, anxiety, or other stress responses, you’ll still see me start to shift things into right angles/symmetry. I guess I figure if my mind is in a tangle, the things around me shouldn’t be.

    And when I’m overwhelmed (which can happen with justifiably big situations, or even over the smallest little detail — it just depends on what pushes the lid off the bottle I keep pouring things into), I’ll still strive to reset my space and regroup in a way that people will think is maybe an inappropriate response to a situation, but is necessary to give my brain time to process, otherwise I shut down.

    “Give yourself some grace…”

    I think I bypass remembering to give myself grace because I don’t think I’ve earned it. And that’s a script I’m constantly having to rewrite for myself. God doesn’t have a finite amount of grace to share with us – grace cannot be exhausted.

    I am just as worthy of his grace and mercy as the people I find it easy to extend grace and mercy to in my life. Even with the exact same situation, I can offer these things to someone else without a blink – so why can’t I for myself? Is it because I think the situation isn’t worthy of it, or do I think I’m not worthy of it?

    I subscribe to Faithbox, and each month they include a devotional with a one-word theme. This month, they’re focusing on Grace. And somehow, the devotional each month has been exactly the keyword of what’s happening in my life at the time.

    “Out of his fullness we have all received grace in place of grace already given.” – John 1:16

    The devotional for today features this scripture, and it gives me hope. Grace is given in place of grace already given. It’s not a one-time dip into the living water to be renewed. It’s something that can be done over and over again, offering grace for the big things and also the day-in/day-out moments. I can do my part to share grace and mercy with others, being a reflection of what God has done for me in my life.

    There is no quota to hit – no magic number I have to achieve. I do not have to earn what is freely and abundantly given.

    Are you struggling with giving yourself grace?

    While it’s not something that can be changed overnight, I know there are things I can add to my day that help me stay connected with God, and the grace he so freely offers.

    • Spend time in meditation and prayer
    • Read the Scriptures, focusing on the areas that highlight grace, mercy, and God’s abundant love
    • Listen to podcasts that highlight grace and spiritual disciplines to bring us closer to God
    • Connect with a small group or church family
    • Be part of corporate prayer, which helps us to see areas we may be overlooking in ourselves
    • Work through a Bible Study that focuses on grace and mercy
    • Call a friend to be a sounding board and to help see things from another perspective
    • Ask yourself: “What would I say to a friend who was struggling with the same situation?“

    These are a few of the things I turn to, but I know there are many more ways. And I can go more days than not giving myself adequate grace when I feel like I miss the mark. But the biggest reminder I like to stay focused on is that God wants me to bring my authentic self to him — every day, every way.

    He does not ask for the perfection — he knows we can’t obtain it. He doesn’t ask for me to know exactly what to say or pray — he already knows my heart. And he doesn’t expect me to earn his love and grace — he gives these freely to us. We just have to believe, obey the teachings, and trust him with our whole heart.

    If you’re looking for a church community to connect with, I know just the place that wants nothing more than for you to come as you are, with an open heart. 🧡

    You can connect with Aldersgate Abilene at http://www.aldersgateabilene.org or reach out to the church office for more info (office@aldersgateabilene.org)

    A friend I work with recently said that church is where the broken come to heal… and it really resonated with me. I go to be filled, to find healing, and to give back to others what I’ve found at Aldersgate.

    Would you like to see how Aldersgate can do this for you? 🫶

  • Daily Doodles as Spiritual Practice

    Daily Doodles as Spiritual Practice

    There’s something magical about daily doodles. They’re not about creating a masterpiece, but about showing up, being present, and letting creativity flow without judgment.

    Original hand drawn doodle – Sept. 17, 2005

    These aren’t just sketches. They’re snapshots of moments, prayers without words, reflections of inner landscapes that can’t always be explained but can be drawn.

    Tune My Heart to Sing Thy Grace

    Original hand drawn doodle – Sept. 21, 2005

    The first piece feels like a visual prayer. Each intricate pattern – the swirling lines, the geometric shapes, the carefully placed words – speaks to the complexity of faith. “Tune my heart to sing thy grace” isn’t just a phrase, it’s an invitation. An acknowledgment that sometimes our hearts need retuning, need to be reminded to see beauty, to find grace in the midst of complexity.

    The black and white zentangle style mirrors spiritual life so perfectly. Not always clear-cut, not always straightforward, but rich with texture and depth.

    Landscape of the Soul

    Original hand drawn doodle – Sept. 19, 2005

    The mountain landscape feels like an inner terrain. Those swirling skies remind me of emotional landscapes – sometimes turbulent, sometimes peaceful. The different textures of each mountain – dotted, lined, wave-like – suggest the varied terrains of our inner worlds.

    It’s fascinating how a simple black and white drawing can communicate so much movement, so much feeling. The waves in the sky, the different patterns of each mountain peak – it’s like a topographical map of emotional experience.

    Give Me All the Books

    Original hand drawn doodle – Sept. 18, 2005

    And then there’s the bookshelf. Oh, the bookshelf! As someone who loves words, who sees books as portals to other worlds, this doodle speaks my language. Each book is unique – different patterns, different textures. Just like people, just like experiences.

    The little heart, the playful “Give me all the books…” – it’s a declaration of love. Not just for books, but for stories, for learning, for the endless possibilities contained in pages.

    The Practice of Showing Up

    What I love most about these daily doodles is the practice itself. It’s not about creating something perfect. It’s about showing up. About putting pen to paper. About allowing creativity to flow, whether it results in something “frame-worthy” or not.

    In a world that often demands perfection, daily doodles are an act of rebellion. They say: I am here. I am creating. I am processing. I am alive.

    Spiritual Practice in Black and White

    For me, these aren’t just drawings. They’re a form of prayer. A form of meditation. A way of processing the world, of paying attention, of being present.

    Each line, each pattern is a moment of mindfulness. A breath. A prayer. A reflection.

    What does your daily creative practice look like? How do you show up for yourself, even when (especially when) the world feels chaotic?

  • Monday Moments: Big Changes and Small Blessings

    Monday Moments: Big Changes and Small Blessings

    What a day to capture for a “day in the life” post! Some Mondays are quiet and predictable – this was not one of those Mondays.

    The biggest news: Aspen just finished her training and started her insulin pump today! I’m practically bouncing with excitement for her. This is such a huge step in managing her Type 1 diabetes, and watching her take charge of this new technology has me feeling all the proud mama feelings. It’s going to be an adjustment period as we both get used to the new routine, but I have such a good feeling about this change.

    Speaking of changes and adjustments – I’ve got a steroid injection scheduled for Wednesday morning to help with these persistent headaches and pain issues.

    With headaches, most activity has downshifted to simple projects and decompressing to keep tension away. This was a fun drawing to get lost in for a while. 💙

    Fingers crossed it provides some relief. It’s one of those medical procedures that feels small but could make a big difference in daily life. Here’s hoping!

    There’s also some excitement brewing that I can’t share just yet (shh – no telling!), but let’s just say the end of this week might bring some good news. Sometimes you need those little mysteries to look forward to, you know?

    The September market got cancelled due to a family emergency for the sponsor, which honestly was probably a blessing in disguise on how scheduled fell given everything else happening. They’ll be back in October, but I’m planning to wait until November to jump back in. Sometimes the universe has its own timing.

    And then there was the wasp situation. Y’all. I discovered a hidden nest out front with 20+ wasps just hanging out like they owned the place. I am beyond grateful for God’s protection – that could have been a seriously nasty accident waiting to happen. But it’s definitely put my front yard garden projects on hold until they relocate somewhere else. *Sigh.* I finally had the energy and motivation to tackle some outdoor projects, and then nature said “not so fast.” 😜 Must be a sign to focus on other things right now.

    Taking residence in our thick trumpet vine hedge, I didn’t see them while fussing with overgrowth. Came back later and realized just how lucky I had been. 😳

    When life hits you with this much at once – new medical equipment, upcoming procedures, mystery excitement, cancelled plans, and surprise wasp neighbors – it’s easy to feel frazzled. But I’m learning that it’s exactly in these moments when taking time for the small blessings makes all the difference. 

    Aspen mastering her pump training. Protection from what could have been a painful wasp encounter. A quiet morning with coffee before the day got crazy. The anticipation of good things coming. Even the market cancellation giving us space to breathe.

    It’s all about perspective, isn’t it? Some days you’re dancing in the kitchen to random songs, other days you’re dodging wasps and celebrating medical milestones. Both are part of the beautiful, messy, unpredictable rhythm of real life.

    Wednesday’s procedure, then rest and recovery. Sometimes that’s exactly what the week calls for.

    *How do you find those small blessings when life gets overwhelming? I’d love to hear your strategies for staying grounded in the chaos.*

  • When Your Creative Practice Feels Too Hard: Finding Flow in Simple Seasons

    When Your Creative Practice Feels Too Hard: Finding Flow in Simple Seasons

    I haven’t had a true painting session in about two months. 🫣

    There, I said it. The woman who has her own painted art all over her home and office from over the last 9 years, doodles zentangles and hand lettered designs, plus pops color and creativity in nearly everything, hasn’t touched paint in two months. And you know what? It’s not the first time, it won’t be the last, and that’s perfectly okay. 🧡

    Here’s what I’ve learned about creative overload – and really, any kind of mental overload that makes the things we usually love feel suddenly impossible.

    When Complex Becomes Overwhelming

    My painting practice isn’t just about making pretty things. It’s where I connect with God, process life’s complexities, and find that flow state where my brain can run on autopilot and sort through everything swirling around in there. It’s where I retreat to rejuvenate my mind, heart, and soul.

    But lately, even thinking about setting up paints feels overwhelming and frankly, exhausting. The decisions – which colors, what surface, what technique – that used to energize me now feel like too much. My brain is already working overtime processing life transitions, health challenges, family coordination, and all the mental load that comes with daily responsibilities.

    “Cross Out the Noise”; one of my original paint pours that perfectly matches the overload when ideas, to-do lists, and responsibilities crash into each other – all shouting for equal attention.

    Now, people might point to my full-time church work as the culprit for this overload. And yes, ministry leadership adds its own complexity. But here’s the thing – my church work actually fulfills needs for spirituality, connection with friends, and being productive. It’s not the villain in this story.

    I learned what true work overwhelm felt like with previous employers during my college days, when there was no work-life balance and my job drained rather than filled me. This is different. This is simply a season where I’m carrying more mental load than usual, and it can happen regardless of whether you love your work or not.

    The Background Noise Problem

    You know that feeling when your brain won’t shut off? When you’re at work but thinking about home ideas, and at home but processing work projects? That constant background mental noise that never quite settles?

    That’s cognitive overload, and it happens in seasons of life when we’re carrying more than our usual mental load. It’s not necessarily about having a “bad” job or too much work – it’s about the cumulative effect of managing multiple life areas simultaneously.

    Without my usual painting sessions – my brain’s primary processing time – all that mental noise has nowhere to go. It just keeps cycling in the background, making it hard to be fully present anywhere.

    Simple Saves the Day

    So I’ve been doodling. Zentangles. Simple black ink on white paper. Repetitive patterns that don’t require color decisions or complex compositions.

    And guess what? It’s working.

    Swirls and waves with minimal color adorn this brown cardstock bookmark – free flowing calm in doodle form 💙

    Those meditative, repetitive patterns are giving my brain the flow state it’s been craving without the cognitive load that painting requires right now. The wave patterns I love creating, the simple geometric designs, the mindful repetition – it’s all there, just in a more accessible form.

    Permission to Adapt

    This isn’t just about art. It’s about recognizing when our usual practices – the ones that normally fill us up – become too much for our current season.

    Maybe your morning devotional routine feels too long, so you switch to one verse and a breath prayer.

    Maybe your exercise regimen feels overwhelming, so you take walks instead of structured workouts.

    Maybe your elaborate meal planning feels impossible, so you embrace simple, nourishing foods that don’t require complex decisions.

    It’s taking the things that usually bring you joy and fulfillment into a narrower focus, eliminating the overwhelm from decision fatigue but embracing the core of what gives you back some spark.

    The Wisdom of Seasons

    There’s wisdom in adapting rather than abandoning. Instead of giving up creativity entirely because painting feels too hard, I’m meeting my creative needs where they are right now. The spiritual connection, the meditative processing, the satisfaction in completing a design – it’s all still there, just in simpler form.

    This season won’t last forever. My brain will settle, the overload will ease, and I’ll return to painting when it feels nourishing instead of overwhelming. But for now, I’m honoring where I am instead of forcing where I think I should be.

    What Simple is Calling You?

    If you’re in a season where your usual practices feel too hard, what simple version might serve you right now?

    What would it look like to adapt instead of abandon?

    What flow state is available to you in this season, even if it’s not the one you’re used to?

    Sometimes the most creative thing we can do is choose the path that actually serves us, rather than forcing the path that drains us.

    Your brain – and your soul – will thank you for the grace.

    What simple practice is calling to you in this season? I’d love to hear how you’re adapting your routines to meet yourself where you are.

  • The Art of Saying No: When Good Opportunities Become Overwhelming Commitments

    The Art of Saying No: When Good Opportunities Become Overwhelming Commitments

    “Can you take on one more thing?” seems to be the unofficial motto of busy seasons.

    It happens all the time: “Do you have a minute?” “You’re better with computers than me – can you help me?” “I know you like this kind of art stuff and I would love to have something like this. Can you make me one?”

    It’s interesting how fast people delegate things to one another, without even realizing they do it. And as a recovering people-pleaser and proactive do-er, I fall into the unintentional trap every single time.

    When Helping Becomes Overwhelming

    Case in point: at a group activity recently, a conversation was started about setting up a speaker. The group talking asked me on an aside if I knew anyone to cover a day and I happened to have a lead for them. “That’s great – go ahead and set it up and let us know what day works best.” Suddenly, I’m cast as the scheduler to coordinate this event and I realize another “yes” seems to have been given.

    This is just one of many daily interactions, some that form in a similar way and others that are my own doing. Like when you have an idea and brainstorm with someone and you’re throwing ideas back and forth. The conversation goes from “I” of the initiator for the project to “we” and you’re recruited to doing the project.

    While these sound like points of just being helpful to someone or running with all the ideas you helped come up with, they are all still yeses and not ones initiated yourself.

    The Self-Imposed Yeses

    Add to it the yes you set up yourself: Yes, I can make that doctor appointment at that time and day. Yes, I’m the parent at home that night so I’ll make dinner plans. Yes, I’ll take the car for service regularly. Yes, I want to maintain my health so I’ll stick to this activity.

    These aren’t bad things. In fact, they’re all good things. Necessary things. But here’s what I’m slowly learning: every yes to something good might be a no to something better. Every commitment I make affects not just my schedule, but my energy, my family time, and my ability to show up fully for the things that matter most.

    The Stewardship of Saying No

    Saying no isn’t selfish – it’s stewardship. It’s being honest about our capacity and honoring the commitments we’ve already made.

    But knowing this and living it? Two completely different things.

    Still working on this one. Some days I nail it, other days I overcommit and remember why boundaries matter. Some days I catch myself before I automatically say yes to that “one more thing.” Other days I find myself coordinating events I never intended to coordinate, wondering how I got there again.

    Learning to Redirect Instead of Taking On

    I’m getting better at this, though. Recently, when that speaker situation came up, I offered to provide the contact information so they could reach out themselves instead of me becoming the coordinator. When someone wanted to brainstorm program ideas, I was clear upfront: “I’m happy to help form ideas, but I don’t have the bandwidth to activate and carry them out – volunteers would be needed.”

    Just this week, someone came asking questions about a program and then wanted me to reach out to a resource to revamp what we have in place. I pivoted it back to them: “You’ll want to visit with the staff member who oversees that program to discuss whether this new resource would be beneficial.” I took myself out of needing to do another follow-up task.

    Breaking the One-Stop-Shop Pattern

    Here’s what I’m realizing: when I’m working with so many people, I’m constantly having to discern where to put my energy and not fall into another character flaw of mine – doing everything myself. Yes, I can and would get it done. Yes, I often end up housing all the different pieces so people have someone to check in with. But it’s not sustainable.

    No matter how good and positive these requests are, they’re still another piece. And when you’re juggling church administration, family life, art business, and everything else, every additional piece matters.

    What I’m learning is that when I redirect people to the right resources, everyone wins. They get help from someone who specializes in that area, the systems work better, and I can focus on what I’m actually called to do. It’s not about pushing people away – it’s about connecting them with the best person for their specific need.

    The Hidden Cost of Good Opportunities

    What I’m learning is that every commitment – even the good ones, even the ones that align with my gifts and passions – has a cost. Not just time, but emotional energy. Mental bandwidth. The ability to be present for my family. The space to hear what God might actually be calling me to instead of just responding to what’s being asked of me.

    When I automatically say yes to coordinating that speaker event, I’m saying no to something else. Maybe it’s saying no to a quiet evening with Aspen. Maybe it’s saying no to time I need to recharge so I can show up fully at work. Maybe it’s saying no to the creative project that’s been waiting patiently for my attention.

    Learning to Pause and Clarify

    I’m trying to build in a pause now. When someone asks, “Can you take on one more thing?” I’m learning to say, “Let me check my calendar and get back to you.” Not because I don’t want to help, but because I want to help well. I want to give a thoughtful yes or a gracious no, instead of an automatic response that I’ll regret later.

    I’m also learning to clarify roles upfront. “I’m happy to help you think through this, but I can’t take on the execution right now.” It feels awkward at first, but it’s honest. And it prevents that slow slide from brainstorming partner to project manager.

    The Question That Changes Everything

    Here’s the question I’m trying to ask myself more often: “What’s one thing I need to say no to this week?”

    Maybe it’s that extra project that sounds interesting but isn’t essential. Maybe it’s the social obligation that feels more like duty than joy. Maybe it’s the self-imposed standard that’s adding pressure without adding value. Maybe it’s taking on someone else’s follow-up task when I could redirect them to the right person instead.

    Because here’s what I’m discovering: when I protect my capacity, I can show up better for the things that truly matter. When I honor my limits, I can serve from a place of abundance instead of depletion. When I say no to good things, I create space for the best things.

    A Word to Those I’ve Said No To

    If I’ve said no to you recently, or redirected you to someone else, please know it’s not coming from a place of not wanting to help or not caring about what you’re doing. It’s coming from a place of preservation – learning to focus my sights directly on what my path is from God, learning to honor moments of pause, and working on honoring commitments that build my relationship with my family.

    A no now could be a yes in a different season. Don’t give up on me, but do give me grace as I learn to steward my capacity better.

    I’m discovering that sometimes the most loving thing I can do – for you, for my family, for the work God has called me to – is to be honest about what I can and can’t take on right now. When I redirect you to the right person or say no from this place, I’m actually protecting my ability to say a wholehearted yes when the timing is right.

    Still Learning

    I won’t pretend I have this figured out. This week alone, I’ve probably said yes to three things I should have paused on. But I’m getting better at recognizing the pattern. I’m getting better at asking the hard questions before I commit. I’m getting better at redirecting instead of automatically taking on.

    And maybe that’s enough for now. Maybe learning to say no well – and redirect strategically – is like any other skill. It takes practice, grace for the mistakes, and the willingness to try again tomorrow.

    What’s one thing you need to say no to this week? Or what’s one task you could redirect to the right person instead of taking it on yourself? I’d love to hear how you navigate the balance between serving others and protecting your capacity.

  • Burning the Ships: Why Sometimes Moving Forward Means Cutting Off the Way Back

    Burning the Ships: Why Sometimes Moving Forward Means Cutting Off the Way Back

    I’ve been thinking about that For King & Country song “Burn the Ships” lately, and how it connects to one of the most decisive moments in history. When Cortés landed in Mexico, he ordered his ships burned. No retreat. No backup plan. No “let’s see how this goes and maybe head home if it gets tough.”

    Just forward. Just faith. Just the mission ahead.

    The Comfort of Backup Plans

    There’s something both terrifying and liberating about that image. Because if we’re honest, most of us live with one foot in our calling and one foot in our escape route. We say yes to what God’s asking of us, but we keep our old patterns, our familiar comforts, our “just in case” alternatives right within reach.

    I know I do this. When God calls me toward something uncomfortable – deeper trust, harder conversations, staying put when I want to run – I find myself unconsciously keeping those ships in the harbor. The ship of “I can handle this myself.” The ship of “maybe there’s an easier way.” The ship of “what if I just tried this other thing instead?”

    When Quiet Feels Like Permission to Flee

    Here’s what I’ve noticed about myself: when things get quiet in my spiritual life, when there’s no dramatic calling or obvious next step, I get antsy. That stillness starts feeling like permission to shake things up, to chase after something that feels more immediate, more controllable.

    Maybe it’s a new project that promises quick results. Maybe it’s diving headfirst into some self-improvement plan that makes me feel productive. Maybe it’s pursuing recognition or success in ways that seem harmless but slowly pull my focus away from what I know to be true and good.

    The problem isn’t the desire for growth or improvement. The problem is when those desires become my master instead of my offering to the Master I’m supposed to be serving.

    The Ships We Need to Burn

    Hebrews 11:25 talks about choosing “to be mistreated along with the people of God rather than to enjoy the fleeting pleasures of sin.” But maybe the verse that hits closer to home is Matthew 6:24: “No one can serve two masters. Either you will hate the one and love the other, or you will be devoted to the one and despise the other.”

    The ships I need to burn aren’t always dramatic or obviously sinful. They’re the subtle alternatives that whisper “this might be better” when God is asking me to stay the course. They’re the backup plans that promise easier paths when the calling requires uncomfortable growth.

    Success. Recognition. The illusion of control. The addiction to “doing something” when God might be asking me to simply be still and trust.

    The Daily Decision

    Here’s what I’m learning: burning ships isn’t a one-time dramatic gesture. It’s a daily choice. Every morning, I have to decide again whether I’m going to trust God’s timing and direction, or whether I’m going to keep those escape routes ready just in case.

    When the calling feels uncomfortable, do I lean into it or start looking for alternatives?

    When things are quiet, do I rest in that space or immediately start stirring up activity to feel more in control?

    When God’s plan seems slow or unclear, do I wait with open hands or start making my own plans?

    The Freedom in Surrender

    There’s something beautiful that happens when you finally burn those ships. When you stop serving the master of your own timeline, your own comfort, your own version of success. When you choose to trust that God’s calling – even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it’s quiet, even when it doesn’t make sense – is better than any backup plan you could devise.

    It’s scary. But it’s also incredibly freeing.

    Because when you’re not constantly looking over your shoulder at other options, you can finally move forward with your whole heart. When you’re not dividing your energy between God’s plan and your backup plans, you can pour everything into what He’s actually asking of you.

    The Invitation Forward

    Maybe you know what ships you need to burn. Maybe they’re obvious – the habits, relationships, or pursuits that are clearly pulling you away from God. Or maybe they’re subtler – the “just in case” alternatives that seem innocent but keep you from fully surrendering to His plan.

    Either way, the invitation is the same: burn the ships. Choose today to serve one Master. Trust that His plan – even when it’s uncomfortable, even when it’s quiet – is better than any alternative you’re keeping in reserve.

    The journey forward might be uncertain, but at least it’s forward. And sometimes, that’s exactly where faith begins.

    What ships do you find yourself reluctant to burn? What backup plans keep you from fully surrendering to God’s calling in your life?