“I sit here as the fourth week of Advent begins…”

“…these red dirt roads are not where faith is tested, but where faith is taught.”

“…faith doesn’t always arrive as certainty, sometimes it arrives as inheritance…”

A Year In Review - “Late in 2024, I sat with a vision board and a heart that was learning slowly how to trust again…”

There is a kind of rest that comes only after we stop trying to deserve it. This week, as I linger in the early rooms of The Interior Castle, I am becoming more aware of how deeply I am trained to strive, even in prayer. Especially in prayer. I notice how quickly my soul wants to bring something with it. Words. Effort. Insight. Proof of progress. And yet, Saint Teresa speaks of these first rooms not as places of achievement, but of awakening. The soul is not yet flooded with

I have such big plans for Studio Kre’at and so it is that I am letting December be slow and intentional allowing me to make room for what has been and what will become. And so I sit and reflect, I see how this year has taught me to rest ~ not in what I cannot do, but in what I have been given to do. To bring hope. To carry light. I invite you to sit now with me on my back lawn as the whispers of 2025 and 2026 have found me.

“Lately, I have not grown louder. I have grown quieter…”

It’s the moments on waking this morning, that have me back in the journal. And after a number of days off, simply to go inwards in a deeper way ~ I know that I am not a content machine. I am a woman simply listening for light. That knowledge allows me wisdom on a grander scale and that slower rhythm wandered honours that wisdom of the vocation I have. This slower rhythm does three sacred things all at once: Protects my interior life Keeps this studio visible Prepares hear

“And so this little painting of washing on the line becomes a prayer in itself…”

There are moments in life when the road beneath us feels like a witness ~ quiet, steady, and strangely alive. It remembers the weight of our steps, the seasons we walked through, and the shifts of heart we carried along the way. This week’s Art Spotlight features a piece that arrived exactly in that spirit: a girl standing on a long, earthy red road, her back turned, just about to walk into a horizon that feels both unknown and deeply familiar. When I painted her, I wasn’t th

There is a moment, right here with this self portrait, where surrender becomes strength. In the creating of this piece, I wanted to show the wind on my skin reminding myself that I am still alive, and the sea whispers don’t rush healing ~ it will come when it needs too. I am standing with arms open, not in defeat, but in a brave invitation to the horizon: “I am here. I’m ready to breathe again.” The waves carry stories of what I have survived. The tide attempts to pull away

“This week’s Art Spotlight Tuesday brings a piece still in progress, a mixed media work of oil paint and oil pastels, alive with…”

To build emotional resilience in art is to find a way through the storm, a way to manage. heal, grow and even transform.

There’s a story in this hat, a story that carries dust and wind, sun and silence. When I painted my cowboy hat with cattle tags, I didn’t set out to make a statement. I was simply following the shape of something familiar, something that had held its place in my mind for a long while. But as the layers of paint built up, I began to see what was truly asking to be seen. The cattle tags, in their bright, worn colours gathered around the hat like memories. Each one belonging s

Out here, in the quiet stretch between paddocks and sky, stories rise from unexpected places. A water tank becomes a canvas for memory, ...

“There’s something sacred in the stretch of country space, a learning ground, a reminder “