origin story

I’m three-years old at the dinner table. In front of me and to my right, my brothers and my dad. To my left, my mom. In the clockwork assignment, it’s my turn to bless our meal. In my just-out-of-infancy voice, I pray to Jesus and I ask,

“Lord, help me paint pretty pictures.”

Two degrees, two jobs, and two decades later, this moment is what I consider the start of my creative career. The seed that was planted was watered by my spirit, asking the Divine to bless me with the ability to make things beautiful.

Now, at three-years old, I haven't gone to art school yet. Though I asked for it, I didn’t really know what “pretty” even meant. As I look back, reflecting on the core of that tiny-spoken prayer, I believe what I meant was: I want to make things that make people feel things.

Surely, if someone could look at my work, stop and say, “wow,” or “oh my,” or “ha!”, I would be an accomplished artist. That was what I was hoping, dreaming, and praying for. Even today, the heart behind my work is the same as it was then. And just as I felt when I was three-years old, whenever I catch a glimpse of accomplishing this goal, my heart grows wings and soars – and I remember why I do this in the first place.

The proudest I’ve felt for my work was my second senior Capstone (two degrees, remember? Don’t think I’d let you forget). After my deconstruction of Evangelical Christianity, I dove into the idea of humanity bearing the image of God — no legalism, no rules, just organic people showing me life is bigger than our egos.

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“Through our humanity, our intimate knowing and love of one another, we become divine.

It is in this way that I believe in God.”

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This project was the one I’d hear about most often, my friends sending thoughtful messages — even years after I completed this work. Most recently, my brother used it as a mousepad. It’s no five-star review, but to have my work out – in good condition — four years after its creation by someone I’ve looked up to  my entire life? That answers the prayer. And like it’s described sometimes in church, God can deliver tenfold.

More practically, an ad I wrote for the Airstream Basecamp once got an audible “mmm” out of their head of Marketing. Not an “aw,” but the look on their faces told me what I needed to hear. They felt it. In the ad, I found the similarities between the silver trailer and the mountain biker:

“The Basecamp® has adventure in its DNA.

Just like you.”

Even in the grid of virtual presentations, writing an ad for a product I could only afford via lottery, my prayer was answered. And like it’s described sometimes in church, God can move in mysterious ways.

There’s no short or condensed version of this story — but if there was, it would be this:

I have always been creative. Always motivated to make. Driven by love for others and the impact they can leave on my life — and I, to them. This is more than my work. It’s my life. The prayer I prayed when I first learned to speak. It was about this. All of it. Ideating, creating, going back and trying again. Presenting. Showing. Making people feel things that should be felt, just because I can.

Regardless of my complicated relationship with religion and spirituality and church, I feel that I can say:

What a sacred gift that is.

My prayer today, may I continue this journey forever. Always motivated, never burned. Finding joy in my own work, and generously sharing with others the value I find in making. There is no shortage of creativity — let us all be generous with the gifts we find in ourselves.