In the years that followed, as I began doing deeper work in my own life, painting became an important part of my healing. It gave me a place to slow down, pay attention, and make something beautiful when life felt complicated. When I couldn’t always find the right words, I could pick up a brush. What began as a small source of comfort gradually bloomed into a passion, a business, and a part of myself I hadn’t known was there.

Watercolor continues to teach me to loosen my grip on perfection. The paint moves, colors mingle, and things rarely turn out exactly as planned. I’m learning to let the unexpected marks remain—to trust that they can become something beautiful. I see this creativity as an unexpected gift from God, arriving in a wilderness season and bringing beauty from ashes.

Today, I paint homes, families, flowers, and meaningful places—the ordinary, deeply personal parts of life that deserve to be noticed and remembered. I especially love taking a familiar photograph or everyday place and turning it into artwork that feels joyful, heartfelt, and uniquely yours.

My hope is that each painting helps someone pause and see the beauty already present in their own life: the house where their family grew, the people they love, flowers on the kitchen table, or a place filled with memories.

Because our actual lives—the imperfect, ordinary, meaningful ones—are always worth turning into art.

I never expected to become an artist.

I first picked up watercolor a few years ago, during a difficult season when my daughter was hospitalized. Making art together brought a little beauty and normalcy into those days—and quietly planted a seed I didn’t yet know would grow.