I was sitting at my kitchen table feeling a little lost.
My mom—the kind soul she is—had taken my kids for a bit so I could “get things done”. This is a beautiful gift she often gives, and something I don’t take lightly. I usually use the precious time to paint.
But when I looked around my house, I didn’t feel inspired. I felt overwhelmed.
Dishes were piled high. Toys were everywhere. Laundry waited. And I still needed to make a real meal—not just heat up dino nuggets—because the missionaries were coming over that night.
I didn’t know where to begin.
There are days when I feel driven and clear, and then there are days when I feel lost. That day was one of the lost ones.
When I feel that way, I try to listen to words that invite light back in. So I pulled up a devotional—and let it play while I started on the dishes.
As I listened, I felt the Spirit return—quietly, gently. With it came energy. Not urgency, but strength. The kind that steadies you and helps you move forward.
Afterward, I had a distinct impression: Go look at that gallery’s website.
It was a gallery I had visited years ago. I hadn’t thought about it recently, but the prompting was clear. So I looked it up, just to see what events were coming up.
That’s when I saw it.
A call for submissions for a group show titled The Mosaic of Christ: Let the Children Come. They were seeking historically accurate depictions of Christ with children. Artists could submit up to three paintings each and they were due that week.
The call had been open for months—but I hadn’t known about it.
I just stared at the screen.
Because over the past year, that is exactly what I had been painting. My last three paintings were devoted to that very subject.
This did not feel like coincidence.
What made the moment even more sacred was what it represented. I had been painting these works without knowing where they were meant to go. I honestly thought they might just be for me—for my own testimony, my own heart.
My desire was simple: to portray Christ in a historically and culturally honest way, and to explore who He is to me through art. I just kept feeling like it was worth doing, even when I didn’t know why.
There were nights I stayed up late after my kids were in bed. Days the house stayed messy. Moments when other responsibilities were set aside because I felt compelled to paint. Times I asked my husband—right when he walked in from work—to take over with the kids so I could keep going.
And he did.
Over and over again.
He has been incredibly supportive. In many ways, I leaned on his faith more than my own. He would simply say, “Go paint. It’s what’s right.” And I believed him.
But it wasn’t until this moment—until the timing, the call, the acceptance—that I realized the trust I had been placing in God had taken shape.
I felt confirmation that what I was doing was in line with God. That the time wasn’t wasted. That the work mattered. And that sometimes we are asked to trust first—to lean in, to keep going—long before the proof arrives.
I applied. I submitted my paintings.
They were accepted.
The show will run from January 2 through February 28, 2026.
And while being included in a gallery is meaningful, that isn’t the heart of this story for me.
The heart is this: I felt God in my life. A quiet, holy witness to keep trusting, to keep creating, and to keep offering what I’ve been given.
If you’re in a season where you’re creating, serving, or showing up without knowing why—this is your reminder: faith is never wasted.
Jeremiah 29:11-14:
11 "For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. 12 Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. 13 You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. 14 I will be found by you,” declares the Lord.
