This morning, as part of my January rhythm, I began with a simple question: Where do I sense God’s nearness? There was no immediate answer. No clarity rushing in. Only a quiet invitation to move my body toward stillness. So I went outside and sat beneath my fig tree. Its wide leaves held the light gently, not too bright, not too dark ~ just enough. Earth beneath me. Green pressing close. Breath slowing into something truer. And there, under the fig tree, a line of Scripture

This year is the first birthday of my dear Auntie Raie since she passed from this world. She was my mother’s oldest sister. My godmother. The woman whose name I was given and therefore, in so many ways, the woman who stood quietly at the beginning of my own story. Every year on this day, without fail, I would ring her to wish her a happy birthday. It became a ritual of sorts ~ ordinary, faithful, never questioned. This year, the call lives only in memory, and I find myself sp

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

Last night, I had words ready to be shared. And then the world shifted. In Sydney, a Jewish community gathered to light the first candle of Chanukah, a festival born from the refusal to let darkness have the final word. And instead of safety, they were met with devastation. I have paused my scheduled posts, because some things ask us to stop speaking on schedule and start speaking from the heart. I am shaken. And I am holding close the Jewish community here, and everywhere wh

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.

Dear beloved ones that walk with me here, This quiet Sunday, as the light softens across my little prayer corner, my eyes rest on this simple figure I once painted cross-legged, still, surrendered. A heart in the head. A heart in the chest. A gentle reminder that the truest blessings come when what we know and what we feel finally breathe in the same rhythm. There are days when my head rushes ahead of grace, planning, solving, worrying and other days when my heart carries the

The verse from Jeremiah 29:11 has become more than a promise I hold onto it’s become a rhythm I live within…

This first week of October has been full of movement, of making, and of moments that have asked me to pause and breathe it all in. So...

“My studio floor is a wild tangle of brushes, paint tubes, scraps of paper, and broken pastels. To anyone else, it might look like disorder”

In a world obsessed with perfection, showing up imperfectly but faithfully and mindfully has been a powerful shift. Over the last 100...

“Whoever can be trusted with very little can also be trusted with much…” (Luke 16:10) May this Sunday remind you that the small things...

This weekend, I have a question for you: How do you refill your cup? For me, it begins simply. I light my sage and let its smoke drift...