“I remember the first time I stood at an easel. I was five years old, in kindergarten in Fort Worth, Texas. My family was home on furlough from the mission field in Colombia, South America.

I didn’t know it then, but something quiet and lasting began in that moment.

Life moved on, as it does. I never thought of myself as an artist. I loved color and design, and worked in those industries for a few years.

During the pandemic in 2020, I bought a small Crayola paint set for my grandchildren and painted a picture of a pink zinnia from my garden. Something stirred my heart and I have been painting ever since.

Now, painting feels like coming full circle.
A small beginning at five… rediscovered decades later.

I’ve learned this: sometimes the things planted early in us don’t disappear—they simply wait until we’re ready to begin again.”