You Don’t Have to Know Exactly What You’re Looking For

What I Was Thinking

 

Here’s a word I think about a lot: Providence.

Yes, I live near Providence, Rhode Island (and it is the best place to find art supplies in this tiny state), but that’s not the only reason it’s on my mind.

Providence—capital P—is about God’s gracious hand in all things. Not just in what’s easy or obvious, but in what’s hard and hidden too.

I tell my kids this story all the time:

Years ago, I lost my job in Nebraska—the one I liked, in the state I grew up in, working alongside my best friend. A recession hit. We were let go on the same day. I wasn’t shocked, but I was shaken. I didn’t know what to do next.

A few conversations later, I moved to Rhode Island to save money and stay with my brother while I prepared to join a missions program overseas. I’d only been here once, 8 months before, to visit him for a few days. I planned to stay this time for 6 months.

I never left.

I tried. Believe me—I tried. But every time I made plans, something got in the way. It felt like being in a hostage situation in an unreasonably pretty place. Beautiful, but maddening.

And then… I met my husband. At the exact moment I finally had a real opportunity to leave, I found the person who made me want to stay.

Now, 17 years after I first set foot on Rhode Island soil, I’m still here—with a beautiful marriage, beautiful kids, and a life I never would’ve planned, but wouldn’t trade for anything.

That season felt like such a hard providence.
But it turns out, it was exactly where I was meant to be—right next to Providence all along.

Why It Matters

 

Where you’re going to live and who you’re going to live with—those are big matters.

But Providence doesn’t stop at the big things.
God’s hand shows up in the small ones, too.
Even in the art you bring into your home.

Sometimes, the art knows before you do.

You might scroll past dozens of pieces, admire them, even save a few, but then something unexpected stops you. You go back. You zoom in. You find yourself thinking about it later. Not because you planned to fall in love with it, but because it already found a place in you.

You might not expect it to matter that much.
You might not be in the market for something “frivolous” like art, especially in this slow economy.

But it turns out that something speaks to you.
Something reminds you of beauty.
Of hope.
Of Providence in the midst of your own hard providences.

That’s what art is about.
It’s not about logic. It’s about resonance.

You don’t need to justify it.
You don’t need a perfect wall or a big reveal moment.

When a piece keeps calling you back, it’s usually because it already belongs to your story.

Let it remind you of what's true.

 

From the Studio

 

Lately, I’ve been thinking about how to make this business more sustainable, not just in terms of income, but in how it fits my life.

I want to keep showing up in real ways.
But I also want to protect what matters most: my peace, my presence, and my kids. And it’s so hard to do that in a world that demands constant visibility just to stay relevant.

I just need rest. Maybe you know that feeling too.

So I’ve been exploring new tools—yes, even AI—to help me share my life and my work and tell more stories without spending hours in front of a camera or sacrificing my time with my family.

(For example, the photo above isn’t me—it’s an AI-generated image trained on my likeness, used here to tell a story I don’t have footage of. But it's so much like me that it might as well me. The feelings and the intention behind it? Very real.)

There’s a good deal of tension there. I’m still sorting through what feels honorable and honest.

But the heart behind it is simple: I want to keep showing up authentically, both online and with my own people.

Not perfectly. Not constantly. But with intention and integrity.

More on that next time—because what I’ve been learning ties directly into how my paintings actually find their people.

 

If This Hits Home

 

If one of the paintings on my site is tugging at you—don’t overthink it.

There’s no checklist.
No deadline.
No need to talk yourself into or out of it.

If it feels like it’s already yours… trust that.

And if you’re unsure? Reach out. I’d love to hear what’s speaking.

Sometimes all it takes is that first yes.

Tell Me

 

Has anything ever found you—before you knew you were even looking?

I’d love to hear your story.
Drop it in the comments or reply to this email—I read every one.