Blog

My art process. Military Life. My Cause.

Stories Behind the Work

Weight of Time

A story of how time feels for those left at home during a combat deployment. The gaps between panels represent the passing of time. Warm colors depict combat imagery in the top half of the piece, contrasted by iconic home front images in the bottom half. Time seems to drag out during the beginning, middle, and especially the end of deployments. Time “behaves” differently as you wait, knowing bullets and grenades are flying. Time crawls.

Closing the Gaps

A perspective on reintegration. No matter how much or little communication transpires over a deployment, the process of merging two worlds is inescapable. The process of coming back together. Creating a “new normal.” Those home and away have been through battles of different natures. Adapting by necessity. How you proceed in this process can make or break family bonds. The “gaps” represented by the shiny black spots represent missed memories or shared experiences. The everyday joys, the little things. Swirls of excitement when reuniting, the “honeymoon period.” The moment my mind shifts, expecting my soldier to be ready for all the “normal” things he used to do. Then, we remember to allow for new normals. We close the gaps. We find our new rhythm together.

Ballistic Neon.

This is the first piece that I put a weapon in. As a result of an art date with my husband, drawing blind contours of his new rifle, art was born. Beauty meets army. Becoming one. Deeply missing my soldier, and wanting to feel close to him, this was painted during a deployment. Little did I know how these canvases and their style would resonate with those who saw it. This work sparked the inspiration for ‘Weight of Time’.

The Sun Will Rise Again.

This piece is about finding hope. I painted it during a deployment when communication was infrequent, and the beauty of each sunrise became a daily encouragement. Embedded in the work is an idea my soldier husband shared from the field: Don’t quit at night. When you’re in the field and are cold, wet, and worn down, you tell yourself you’ll quit in the morning. By the time the sun rises, its warmth reminds you that you can make it one more day. This mindset has carried him through his time in the Army and has often carried me through the emotional and physical strain of separations. On the hardest nights, breaking time into small victories — and finding hope in nature and God’s creation — helps me keep going until the sun rises again.

3’x12’ Oil and Cold Wax on Panel
$8,500 or $3,000 for each 3’x4’ or the grouping of 4

Entanglement

The emotional hardships are VERY real and intense. The desire to be a good support to your soldier and yet how you just want them home. The way you have to grow if you want a vibrant life in seasons of separation or togetherness. It is a tangle of feelings. Living your values which push you out of everything comfortable and safe. It is a portrait of resilience formed in the hard places, where love, longing, duty, and personal strength collide.

Hopeful Trust

This piece reflects the practice of continuing to believe the best—whether separated by deployment or living daily life together. It speaks to staying healthy in your rhythms, making space for rest, and allowing yourself to be refreshed. The work began simply as “trust,” but hope is what grows over time: in counting the sunrises, in returning to familiar anchors, and in finding the steady, secure place where you belong — and remembering who you belong to.

Bids for Connection

Hundreds of hearts flutter along the wall, born from a Valentine’s Day deployment years ago. Wanting to feel close to my husband, I brought my kids into the studio and let them fill large sheets of watercolor paper with color. I flipped their paintings, traced heart after heart, and sent them to friends and family. In the act of sending love outward, something new filled me in return.

Over time these hearts have taken on deeper meaning — symbols of connection, of how my children are woven into this military story, and of the many ways we all reach out to be seen and heard. What began as a simple gesture has become a beautiful ripple of love, carried forward one heart at a time.

Bids for Connection.
Over 400 hearts mixed media installation.
$3,000 for all or $20 each heart, first come first serve to pick heart (no reservations).

Psalm 9:1

This piece reflects the source behind every story and every strength in my life: my relationship with Jesus. He is my friend, my steady companion, and the lens through which I see everything else. This work stands as a proclamation — “I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart…” — an expression of gratitude that isn’t governed by circumstances or feelings. Even when life looks different from what I would have chosen, this piece affirms the commitment of faith that anchors me.

Space. Separation. Solitude.

TEN Years ago I wrote this post and as I reread it, it still rings true!

As a military spouse I have experienced different types of separation. Separations with many time zones crossed. Some with more uncertainties than others. In this age of instant communication, I have learned about waiting. I have sent many emails that feel like “lost letters.” During one separation that felt the longest for me, I did not hear from him for over two weeks. Not an email. Not a phone call. Not a text. That disconnection was almost unbearable.

Deployment...

Hours, days, weeks, months....they all add up. Personally it feels like time behaves differently when your other half is in harm's way. This piece is an attempt to depict the way time feels.

Overall size 8' x 25' (made up of 18, 8'x6" canvases)....still blank, paint coming soon!

Even though I have been gathering info from my soldier about wartime images ,the spacing in this piece describes the element of time from my perspective. In the beginning there is a dragging on. Almost a ripping away feeling, as I have spent every possible moment with him before he leaves, and then he’s just gone. There’s a painful emptiness.

I remember my first deployment goodbye EVER in 2010. We stayed up late the night before, we got a movie with every intention to watch it, but didn’t get around to it. He bought flowers (upon my request) because beauty has a way of lifting my spirit. We woke up and he made videos for me to watch while he was gone (for when I miss him and can't call him - because I have to wait for him to contact me.)

We went to Waffle House, and conversation was awkward. I wanted to enjoy it and be normal, but in my mind I knew in a couple hours I would be giving him his last hug and kiss for a WHILE. A long while. Words were stuck in my throat. So I just looked at him and commented about the food, small talking my way through it. Anyone who knows me would tell you this is not my style. I love delving deep. Not this time. I wanted to just keep it (mostly) together and try to think about anything except this HUGE gap we were facing. He surprised me after breakfast, and we stopped at a nearby park and strolled, enjoying what beauty was left that February. We embraced and even danced to one of our songs in order to feel close before we drove to where I was dropping him off. It is all the small things in those moments that matter. The hand holding, the hugs, the kisses, my mind and heart try desperately to capture them, how they feel.

a picture of how big the first gap will be. (22inches)

The together memories are freshest in the beginning. The days drag as I learn to accept this will be my reality for a while. I will not get to welcome him home each night. I will not be sharing about my days over dinner every evening. We will not be keeping each other warm as we fall asleep. So I depicted the second longest space in the very beginning of my piece. For me it takes a bit to change gears. To figure out what this separation is going to look like. On both ends. How will the internet be where he is going? How often will he be able to call or Skype? How busy will he be? Who will I spend most of my time with here? Who do I know that is facing the same thing right now? How can I stop avoiding my empty bed?

Eventually plans do get made…..sometimes more than others. I get some sleep. A groove is found and the pieces getting closer together reflect that new rhythm. It is not a given, but many times I can find a friend or two and we do dinner together or hang out on the weekends.

Then there is the half way slump. It is a mixture of emotions….I feel happy that I’ve made it half way, but then again that first half felt SO long… can I really make it through the second half?! Can I really face it? The time and distance are so massive, there is no way around it. Busying myself or traveling doesn’t make it go away. The separation goes with me. Each time I come home or there is a lull in the busyness, the separation is there. The longing to be together. The desire to connect for an entire evening, not just a snippet of time. But those snippets get me through. The emails that are in my inbox when I wake up. The rare occasion of a package or letter. The phone calls or iMessages when he’s available. They all get me through. It takes work to stay connected and open, for both of us. This piece is about being WORLDS APART but still working to be TOGETHER, through the good, the bad and the ugly.

Usually I have my "Half Way Never. Going. To. Make. It. Meltdown".... because I feel that I should be encouraged or MORE encouraged that we are halfway through, but some days all I can see is how BIG the second half seems. Eventually I find my rhythm again. I get back into doing life and making plans. Often I have a couple things planned that I look forward to.

It’s helpful if I spread my plans out a bit, because I have learned over time that depending on the build-up or preparation, I can experience a bit of a letdown afterward. For example, my third daughter turned ONE last deployment and historically (with our other two) their first birthdays were a BIG deal. Even though she wouldn’t have known that I didn’t throw a party (until she was much older); I felt it was important to stay true to our traditions, even though my husband was gone. Thankfully with GOOD help and a little money spent (for some items that I wouldn’t normally pay for), IT WAS A GREAT BASH! I did it! The rain held off, people came, everyone seemed to enjoy themselves. But afterward there was that letdown…. I have realized it with other big events too. A sort of build up and excitement before and during the event, and then a low when it is finished. My friend described it as “an adrenaline letdown.” Combined with my normal good and bad days of deployment, I can fall into the pit of despair if not careful.

One of my books I am making to stay connected to the good memories.

I am a person that craves closeness and connection. One thing I do while to keep my heart open and soft while we are separated is to reflect. I reflect on the good times by making books with our old photos. During our second deployment I made a book about our beginnings. I wrote about our first date and our wedding, plus our first year. It is something I still look back on to remind myself how much we love each other. Our vows are in there so we revisit them on our anniversary. I also have a special playlist on my phone that is called “love stretching the miles”. They are all songs that make me think of my love. Sometimes I play them loud and dance silly. Other times I just cry as my heart is softened and remind myself that no matter how many times we say goodbye, I still matter to him.

The “home” stretch is always a whirlwind of emotions for me. Not unlike many of my fellow army wives, we have goals to accomplish in the time apart. Sometimes that half way point can be a wake up call that I haven’t gotten as much done as I had hoped to. Whether the goals are projects or fitness oriented (two seemingly common goal areas), if the first half is unproductive, the disappointment can set in. When that is the case I have to remember that I am not “winning him back” or “proving my worth”, I am WELCOMING HIM HOME. I keep chipping away, but mostly I need to “be kind to myself” and judge my accomplishments in light of all I shoulder when my other half is gone.

My girls with their Auntie preparing a sign for daddy, morning of his return.

The COUNTDOWN is an exciting time. It is close enough that I have to start leaving my schedule open to account for the BIG change that is about to occur. Wanting him home and wanting the wait to be over is so thick, I find that I am distracted by it. It can be consuming. Sometimes there is a surge of activity, but I choose to pace myself. He is not just coming home to the 4 walls, but to me. I need to be open to him relationally. The end stretches on to what feels like forever…..I try to prepare my mind for a stage that I never knew existed: REINTEGRATION…..This is the time of trying to become a family all in one place again. Everyone has changed. And even the GOOD changes take adjusting to. There is pain and hardship that has to be unburdened on both sides and intentional TIME TOGETHER is the only way I know how to figure it out….of course personal space is needed too, but I must not give in to the thought that being healthy “just happens” by him returning home.

Before I ever experienced deployment, my expectations of separation and how I would feel were different than reality. I thought “I am a independent person, I have art to make and friends to hang with…” . But I can feel lonely even with all that. I miss the fun and lightheartedness that my husband brings to my life. Life with him has the potential for a crazy adventure every weekend. New projects. Impromptu dinner parties, just FUN. I am naturally a bit more serious……yet I am learning that I need a variety of interactions, deep conversations, as well as silly and light times. When He is gone, I must be more intentional about seeking this out.

Deployments have taught me that I need others who are in tune to me and my rhythms. Ones who know the cycle of emotions that come with deployment, usually because they have lived it, or are living it beside me. This is one reason the gardens at Rick's Place are so special to me. COMMUNITY. I've found a place to be me whether my husband is deployed or not. It's a place where there is no shame in receiving, but also plenty of ways to give back.

Earlier this month we people planting out at Rick's Place.

DREAM BIG. FAIL BIG.

I have had a new mantra this year. SHARE.

When I first started "sharing", I thought of my girls, and the common problem of hogging a beloved item. But I WANT to share my artwork. I want others to like and share my artwork too! I desire for people to see my work and yet it still has felt hard to share. It felt hard because I was not just sharing with my friends and fans. I was sharing with judges for contests, grants and curators- people I have never met. There was a part of me that yelled "those people don't define me." Then there was the part of me that said that "these are the only people who matter." NEITHER of these beliefs are true. Both my friends, fans and critics matter! They matter in different ways.

Here We Go. 30"x30" Oil and Cold wax on panel. This piece continues the narrative of risk: a deep breath of continuing to go forward when all I could see was a fog covered path.

I started sharing locally, looking at opportunities nearby. Then I widened my search a bit to statewide, and regional. I also looked near where my parents live, reasoning that I have help and support there as well. I have looked at places where I wouldn't necessarily need to travel but could send my work anyway. (Shipping still frightens me a bit, but I am getting braver.)

I have been keeping track of my shares. I have submitted to or emailed 22 different places and I am not done for the year! Opportunities vary from exhibit proposals to open calls and a couple grants. I have gotten ONE yes! That yes came in JULY and it is November. Some were dead ends, but others are just a LONG wait. I have seven real possibilities right now. So why am I sharing this with you?! Because this is the NEW me. The three clear no's and the other unfruitful requests have hit me differently this year. They have not wiped me out with disappointment or discouragement, like a no would in the past. I used to get a NO and it was as if a REJECTION CLOUD would hang over me.

So let's talk about this one YES, because I have held onto this yes! This yes was for a wine label. The yes meant I have a piece that has been purchased for a public collection. It will be my first reproduction EVER and the thought of my artwork being on people's dinner tables next year is AMAZING. I am encouraged! I am excited to unveil that piece, called "Canoe Trails." It was inspired by an epic canoe trip that is another story for another day.

A recent online coaching course caused me to consider whether I have been successfully "completing" my process by sharing my work. I love the feeling of finishing a canvas or panel. Those final steps of finishing the edges drag out at times but my desire to hang my piece usually motivates me. But the act of finding a place for my work to be seen has seemed next to impossible. Not because I have tried and failed, but because I couldn't even get myself to start trying consistently. I've been too afraid of what "they" would say. Too afraid that it would be "a waste." In the middle of my fears, I realized that EVEN IF I AM NOT CHOSEN, it is NOT A WASTE. Do you know why? Because I shared! The people who said no still saw my work. As the artist I don't always get to know what the viewer was thinking, I just get the no or the yes.

In the past, I haven't put my work out there enough to create my own system. But now I have what I need to share it .....good pictures of current work, titles, dimensions, an up to date resume, an artist statement, and even thoughts contained in word documents detailing some plans for growing professionally. I am truly thankful for those who have given me the feedback to help me weed through my ideas. I admit I still struggle to send off packets sometimes and I have had to pay WAY too much for expedited shipping, but the real sense of accomplishment comes when "it is out of my hands."

This thought keeps coming back to rest on my mind: What if I dream small and succeed? And that success is really failure compared to all the big dreams that I thought were too crazy to try?

It was Wednesday....

Everything changed. I went into the doctor to check out some pregnancy symptoms that were potentially indicating problems, but I was hopeful. Hoping it would stop, which was still possible, but the ultrasound told us the answer....

There was no heartbeat. Our baby was not alive and growing. Not flipping and squirming.

A deep pain welled up within me. I kept wanting it to be untrue, but it was not. Our dreams for this baby were dying.

The process of death was not over. All that my body had worked so hard to grow had to leave. No easy task. I will spare you the details....but ultimately all deaths are messy. Life is messy.

Pain is pain. We all experience it in different ways. Pain and loss are unique experiences for each person, whether you expect it or it is out of the blue. Pain isn't controllable, avoidable or fully manageable.

I want to believe I have a handle on it....but the waves of grief come when I least expect.

Doing normal things reminds me that normal is possible, even though I still don't feel like myself. This is a part of my story that I am choosing one small choice at a time to believe that I will heal. I will heal physically, I will heal emotionally. I will dream again. Hope will not be elusive forever. I will find my stride. My new normal after this loss.

I am starting by being thankful for those who are here. All the people that brought us meals. The flowers we received. The hugs. The prayers. The phone calls and texts. Those who watched our girls. Giving me some space to just be.

Whatever stage of loss you find yourself in today, find people to let in. I want to be strong and I try not to breakdown into tears at the "wrong" moment, but to be honest I am still not there. It is still more raw than I want to admit but my God has been my deep well of hope. My personal faith has helped me to keep going. As I was recently reminded, some things are not within our ability to understand.

I don't know your pain. I don't know the why, but I do know that pain is real. Pain can paralyze. Pain can kill. Pain is universal. May we not belittle another's pain based on our own. May we embrace beyond our own understanding, even when that embrace brings us close enough to feel someone else's pain. I am writing today to say, "Friend, you are not alone."

Taking a Step Back

As I create, I MUST take a step back. The bigger the piece, the bigger the "step" back must be. I need to see the piece on my easel with fresh eyes. Sometimes that means I have to take it off the easel for a while in order to know what is next. So currently my BIG step back is from "The Weight of Time" and the topics I covered while working on that piece.

I am exploring my voice. Revisiting things that I have long forgotten and other new interests that are blossoming. Assigning myself personal challenges, to see where they take me, but most importantly, I am doing what refreshes me! In many ways color and shape help me process what words cannot. What that means for my blog is more pictures and in-process shots. More insights into the thought behind my decisions (I will explain what I can, as I discover it for myself).
I long for community with other artists, so thoughtful questions and feedback are welcome. Feel free to try out some of the techniques or offer what has worked for you.

I bought two 36"x36" panels late summer to start experimenting with cold wax (made by Gamlin). My interest was piqued a couple years ago when visiting some artist studios in Asheville, NC.

It looks like I was loving the reds and oranges more than normal at this time…...

I have a designer friend that I enjoy working with....so we collaborated on how to change the color scheme to work with her room. I HAVE NEVER DONE THIS TYPE OF COLLABORATING before.....interesting, but quite difficult. I like this in-process shot of it very much- but my favorite green had to go.

The last shot before I delivered this piece to add to her home office #oneroomchallenge (it is a designer thing). I hadn't heard of it before working with her.

I love her striking dark gray walls. I love having my work in her rooms. So well designed and lit. Made it SO worth going out of my comfort zone a bit (that's what friends are for, RIGHT?!).

The forgotten colored pencils..... I seem to gravitate toward bright and bold and you can see the pencils in the bottom left that are just nubs to prove it. So I got this idea, what if I limited my color palette to the ones in the top row? What will I come up with?....jury is still out. It feels almost like the challenge I had my freshman year at VCU when we did a semester of grayscale. Boy was my work BRIGHT and BOLD second semester. I think the idea was to help us focus on the basics and give us less choices. Don't worry, I am not going to start painting in gray scale, I just couldn't handle that. I also bought a NEW set for when my little muted experiment is done!

This one is my second 36" by 36" panel (since it is not recommended to use cold wax with canvas). I thought I was done with this piece....but that pink area just bothered me. As I started adding, I discovered a couple things!

I have to stick with my gut, not likes or comments on instagram. It made my #bestnine2016 and I still just wasn't thrilled. I knew I didn't want to cover it up completely because it had some good elements already. I have been using a nail with the cold wax that just seems right, not too big or small, hard enough to scratch away even older wax but easy to control. I love printmaking, so it brings me great joy that I was able to use some different methods on this piece. I mixed the wax and tried to print on the panel from a piece of glass, but it wasn't smooth enough. In the bottom left, I was able to get these happy green dots using a small panel with excess paint. In the next method I used a large piece of paper that I had used to remove excess paint from another panel earlier that night and it was THRILLED with the results (seen in the bottom right).

A detail of what this piece looked like before all the green. As I am working with the wax, I am trying to layer high contrasting colors so when I scratch through, there will be the pop of the paint underneath. I am not sure if doing sections or having it better planned out would help me? With these last two I covered them up completely. It feels like a complete goodbye. I may try to plan my layers differently soon but the spontaneity is appealing in some regards.

This lovely blue and pink and green piece is now the orange piece below. I put a LOT more paint than I needed on this medium size piece. I used the small panel to remove some and attempted to create another point of interest in the piece. I not only used the nail to scratch but I have rubber scrapers to scratch and create different effects. The grid-like marks are made with the rubber, eraser-like tool. I don't always listen to music but the night I worked on the green panel (above) and the orange panel (below) music seemed more important. I was just pushing myself to go out on a limb. I feel that even though I have been painting professionally for over a decade (wow, that makes me sound old), when I introduce a new factor, I must experiment to see what needs to happen in order to find out if I really love it and if there is a good reason for me to use this "new" thing...whatever it is. Mark-making, scgraffito, printing, and finding balance between controlled elements are not new to me. Neither is letting go. But as I step back, I see though it is not "new", it has been quite a while (about 7 years) since I have been really interested in bringing all these elements into my oil paintings.

Fighting Numbness

We have another deployment on the horizon. Each day I am painfully aware of the impending goodbye. I am about to live through another "...weight of time."

A little comic relief, learning to laugh at myself ever so slowly. ha.

Do I have what it takes to do this well? Am I prepared? If so, why does it feel so hard? Why do I still get overwhelmed?... We can try to prepare - the practical things, cars, house, financial readiness - but my heart is what needs to be most prepared. I am reminded of my own words, the "hardness" shows attachment. The temptation is to start detaching when it gets close. To stop sharing deep feelings because soon he will not be there to hold me. But we push to stay present. He works to stay engaged (which is quite hard for him too). He is also mentally preparing for a completely different reality.

Numbness seems easier, but if we allow ourselves to get numb, we will miss out on the good and the bad all at once. So I choose to feel. I choose to face my fears. I choose to cry instead of stuffing it down. I choose to say, "I am not okay." I choose to text and ask for prayer when I feel weak. The cloud of sadness was raining on me yesterday morning. I was deeply sad. In the past (and sometimes still) when I know our time is short, this sadness would have driven me to try to make each moment together count! I would have wanted everything to be amazing...but that thinking is flawed. The pressure itself is crushing. Each misstep or disappointment, no matter how small, is magnified. So instead, this time, I choose to admit, "I am extra sad this morning." This confession made room for extra hugs and space to be sad next to him. I am thankful that over time we have made room for the sadness, not trying to instantly cure it, like it is a disease. There are times that I am not as honest, and it does build up... And that never turns out well. When I deny this current state, I can't receive the help I need from God or others.

Sometimes I feel broken and used up by learning to declare it a BEAUTIFUL MESS.

I could not make this journey without my faith. Many have commented on my strength, but I feel like now is the right time to tell you that it is my personal relationship with Jesus that gets me through. When I say personal- I mean personal. I wrestle with Him when I don't like the circumstances. I cry and breakdown through my prayers to Him. I thank Him and rejoice with Him because I really believe "He has the whole world in His hands." The Bible is not just the guide I live by, but His words and promises nourish me. He is the reason I have never FULLY quit. I have been ready to give up. I get fed up with the mission and the sacrifices our family has to make, and then EVENTUALLY I am reminded that I live this life for more than myself.

This is the perspective I have needed as I have processed through ArtPrize. I did not get selected by the jurors. I did not get voted into round two. That sad cloud came and visited me again. Was I a fool to hope that I even had a chance?! I have been avoiding this announcement. I would like to tell you that the sun is shining and there is no more rain in the forecast, but this was a big deal to me! It was my first public piece. My first time putting my story out there. My first time letting people into this process- thank you for following along. My first time since getting married and having kids that I thought just maybe I would get noticed AND I DID! But expectations are tricky....I saw it going differently. I hoped that the news story would bring enough votes, but I am learning to celebrate the individual victories!!!!! I was noticed, I GOT A NEWS STORY! My husband got to come see it! I had the largest amount of people see my work, EVER! Success doesn't always look like we think it will. I call this a success because I HOPED! I opened up my heart, fully knowing I could be disappointed. The odds were not in my favor, but I HOPED. This gutsy hope is what it took to go out in the studio and press through when it felt too hard. It was this hope that helped me to tell my story on video despite not loving seeing and hearing myself in that way. This hope said, "This hard thing in front of you is worth it." It seems like this piece not only tells about deployment but now that I am reflecting, I see it was the deployments that God used to forge the perseverance I needed to finish well.

I like tangible results, they feel good and make it easier to see that my hard work has paid off. I was hoping for that large sum of money to donate to RHF. I was hoping that getting in meant getting noticed, but I have come to terms with the reality that my ultimate goal is not to be popular (even though that seems nice....REALLY nice. HA.) My ultimate goal is to be true to who God has made me to be. To tell the story that only I can tell, because it is my story. To not look around trying to see if I measure up, but to look up and see my Maker who continues to show me....what only I can do.

I AM SORRY

Thursday night, Friday afternoon and evening, and most of the day on Saturday, I was on site. I stood near The Weight Of Time with my artist tag. I greeted people. I tried to strike a balance between letting them experience the piece and sharing my story behind the piece. There were viewers from all walks of life. Other artists. People that claimed to know nothing about art. Young and old. Groups, couples, and loners. People that had a lot to say and people that avoided conversation. I had one guy refuse to hear because he didn't want my story to "mess up his impression of the piece." Overall, most were friendly and kind people, who were happy to meet the artist and hear this Army wife's story. I had those who teared up. Who shared how my story related to their experience. I got hugs and thank yous, but I also got many "Thank your husband," and "When is he getting out?" and "Is he home?" And I realized they didn't quite get what I was trying to say. The hardest comments were "I hope he makes it home", but the one that still has me thinking is "I am sorry you miss him so much."

It was heartfelt. A sorry you hurt kinda sentiment, but it struck a chord in me. I didn't really respond because it was in passing, but I want to address this now. I AM NOT SORRY I MISS HIM. Missing takes courage. Staying connected takes risk. There is this sense that "it should get easier", but in reality as you continue to build a life TOGETHER, there is more to miss. There are deeper bonds- but isn't that what marriage is about? Having a life that is influenced by the other. Where you consider them. Staying connected is a must. We have said if it ever gets to the point where we are looking forward to the separation then we need to take a look at why.

So what I am not saying? I’m not saying I have no life or ambition outside of him. I have my personal goals but I do my best to invite him in. That is why he has learned to appreciate art.. That is why I have read books about the army and have learned the army language of acronyms (even though translation is still necessary at times). I am an artist. I have friends that get a lot more attention when he is away.....girls nights in, or out. A bit of travel with my kids. I realized that I can't wait to do everything I want to do until he is home because that would mean I was just biding time while he was away. So we live life. We enjoy where we are. He is happy for the good things I get to experience when he is gone. I celebrate his successful missions and I am happy for good training opportunities. When we are back together, we squeeze the most out of our time. We travel. We have lazy Saturdays. We spend time connecting with others.

I want those who read and see my story to know, yes, it is sad. But more than that, there is a beauty that is being forged. There is a beauty being forged in me as I learn how to navigate this hard, but good process of releasing the one I love to live out what he was made to do. In turn, I discover I was made to stay and how staying takes a different courage but courage nonetheless. The courage to stick with it through many unknowns and uncertainties. The courage to be over your head and accept help. This is my new definition of ARMY STRONG: meaningful connection at home and away that creates strong family bonds within families and with other families.

We will still need help and encouragement. Individual families will not be able to handle all the military asks of them, alone. But let's not just "handle it." Let's thrive as we embrace the risk of true relationship. Let’s be honest and receive help, and give it too. Let’s not be sorry to do what we were made to do. Let’s embrace the beautiful messy lives that we and others live, even when it is uncomfortable. That’s real strength.

Video Artist Statement below

Vote code 63358

To Vote for This Piece for all who are in the Grand Rapids area.

Click on http://www.artprize.org/63358

Those who are supporting me from afar please share this post! Thanks!

How I Remembered 9/11 this year

This was a memorable 9/11 as I was surrounded by support in my ArtPrize endeavor to raise awareness THAT WE ARE NOT MEANT TO DO THIS LIFE ALONE. (No matter how strong you are.)

RHF mission is strengthening relationships of the Military family through fun, quality activities.

FaceTimed while having this delicious muffin and coffee with my soldier and girls because today I wasn't home. It is weird being on the other side of far away.

The artwork was delivered right on time by Rick Herrema's Dad. Faithfulness and dependability is the best way to describe the Herrema's service.

As we unpacked I realized there was no #10 I had marked two of them #11.

Signs can be spotted all around downtown Grand Rapids.

Met the other artists sharing Brush Studio venue.  They were friendly and have cool work! — Met the other artists sharing Brush Studio venue. They were friendly and have cool work!

After much deliberation we settled on showing the distortions of time in the spacing as well as height differences (the bumps in our journey).

"The Weight of Time" is INSTALLED! Thank you to my team!!!! You helped this day go smoothly and I feel taken care of!

Artprize voting begins Wednesday September 21st in Grand Rapids, Michigan's art district.

In the Middle.

The Middle is before you know how the end turns out. I think the middle is why I used to shy away from sharing the process. When I first was getting to know my husband, his request was always to see pictures. Pictures of what I was making. Unfinished work. He wanted, and still wants, to see the in-process shots of my artwork. He supports and reassures me when seeing the “middle” shots because to him, it adds to the richness of experiencing the finished pieces.

Back then I was not on Instagram....When I worked on pieces in the past I had a short list of people I would share my progress with. When I say short- I mean 3 or 4. And I did not have the virtual community that I do now, seeing these various creative hashtag challenges. That is actually part of how I eased back into making things more consistently. It was the #300creativedays that I participated in, and did not complete....I did not count all the creative things I did in 2015, but I did spend more days creating in that year than the previous. And I started to embrace the idea that drawing coloring pages for my kids did "count" as creative. All the little moments added up to make me ready for 2016 and the challenge of creating a public work. "The Weight of Time." For ArtPrize. It prepared me to share that being consistent in pursuing your passions/dreams/goals is not easy....creative or otherwise. Roadblocks do come, in various forms. Busyness. Stress. Fear. Failure. There are also dry seasons. The dry seasons that I am referring to are those times when the other higher priorities in my life need my attention and the amount of time that I can devote to my artpassion/dreams/goals must be viewed through that lens. Determining what’s really happening can sometimes be hard.

Sharing my story here is a bit scary at times. But it is more helpful than hiding my story because when I hide, I start to think I am alone in my struggles. There are times when people are disappointed in how my work changes....and that is something I have to accept. I have to accept that inviting you into my studio, invites you into my mess. The mess of deferred motivation. Even the mess of occasionally losing perspective on why I make stuff.

Currently I am in a middle, I am on my way to Michigan. I am on my way to hang the piece. This morning I woke up earlier than I should have, but my body was ready. In preparation mode. Thankfully my mother-in-law was sleeping on the couch and the rest of my people were asleep too, so I headed to my studio.

I haven't been out there much lately. When there is a gap in time, the distance to getting back seems even greater. Momentum has slowed and it takes more time, it feels more like starting over rather than picking up where I left off.
Of course there are reasons I haven’t gotten out there a lot, but the underlying reason is stress. Change. New. Good new things, but still new. There are new routines with school starting. And decisions to think through.

It is crazy how hiding can look different. Sometimes I hide from the mess of life by going out to the studio to refresh, but the truth is this month doing dishes has seemed easier than facing this middle.

We all are in the middle of our stories. This middle seems to have dark clouds. Is this endeavor going to be worth it? Worth the risk? Worth the sacrifice?

My husband has already answered my questions with a "yes!" I’m thankful for his support. Now I have to search to own the yes for myself… “The Weight of Time” …Was it worth it? Yes. It has already helped me. Helped me to process deployment. Helped me to know my soldier better. Helped me to share my process. Creating this piece has had tangible benefits. But it was also weighty. I have even had a couple bad dreams about it being damaged. In the dream I had to redo two of the canvases. It was all mixed up. THANKFULLY IT WAS JUST A DREAM.

Not only am I in the middle of the outcome of Artprize, I am in the middle of that preparation to say "see you soon" again. This is the phrase we should say....with hope that it is not goodbye.

Middle. Not able to see the end of the story. The beginning and the end of a thing has its own unique challenges. I am happy that even after some personal setbacks, I went back out to the studio. It felt like I was getting back up after being shoved down by my own disappointments. I am continuing to discover how to do business as an artist. I am thankful that mistakes and missteps are not the end, but actually part of the journey. So I keep moving forward.

If you would have told me last September that I would be headed to Michigan with a crew of people ready to help me hang my ArtPrize entry, I don't think I would have believed you. I couldn’t see that far. When I first imagined the size of this piece, it felt unattainable or at best, very far off. My last significant show had been in spring of 2010. Between now and then, there have been a lot of "middles", and we have navigated through as a family. Perspective is essential when we are in the middle, because what happens in the middle matters, maybe the most.

Sunrise seems like a reward for being awake.