It finally has a name.

Hey there,

Yesterday, I shared with you that stepping away from prayer art jewelry didn't leave me empty in the ways I expected it might. Rather, it opened space.

Space to become curious again.

Space to create with joy again.

Space to remember that creativity was never about one particular medium. It has always been about paying attention to what God is doing through me.

Over the last few months, I've been thinking a lot about the word practice. Over the years, I've taught myself how to do many things I once had no idea how to do. I've come to understand that the practice of learning new things is what has quietly been changing my life.

A practice is something we return to.

You don't master a practice. You don't finish a practice.

You don't fail because you missed a day.

You simply come back to it. Again. And again. And again.

Prayer is a practice.

Gratitude is a practice.

Hospitality is a practice.

Listening is a practice.

Creating is a practice.

For so many years, I unknowingly believed that creativity belonged to naturally gifted artists, writers, painters, musicians... the people with obvious talent.

But after a decade of creative work myself, I've come to believe something entirely different.

I think creativity belongs to every person because we were all created by the Creator Himself.

Sometimes creativity looks like painting.

Sometimes it looks like planting a garden.

Sometimes it looks like writing a letter or cooking dinner or starting a business at the kitchen table.

Quilting, rearranging a room, learning to notice beauty again after a season of grief.

Creating beauty isn't about producing something impressive.

It's about participating in the life God has already placed in front of you.

That realization changed everything for me.

Creativity was no longer another thing to accomplish.

It became a way of paying attention. A rhythm I could return to.

And as I sat at my kitchen table over the past few months, writing and praying and dreaming about what Purpose + Grit is becoming, one image kept returning to me.

A table.

Not a stage. Not a classroom. Not a massive audience.

A simple table, like the one I'm sitting at now.

Because the table has always been where the important things happen.

It's where families gather together for supper after long days.

Where entrepreneurs sketch ideas on the backs of envelopes.

Where children color and finish homework while parents fold laundry.

Where prayers are whispered over coffee as the dawn peeks through the window.

Where hard conversations happen.

Where birthday candles are blown out.

Where cookies are dunked into milk.

Where grandma shares her stories at Sunday dinner.

Where tears are cried after a tough day.

Where laughter lingers long after the meal is over.

Where ordinary moments quietly become sacred simply because we were fully present for them.

Almost everything meaningful I've created over the years has begun at my kitchen table. The books, Gritty Faith Magazine, my first artwork collection, my first jewelry collection... even my first Painted Prayer workshop was simply a group of 6 gathered around my mom's table.

In my house, my kids often see my work laid out right next to theirs on the table. My creativity isn't tucked away in a separate studio. It's sprawled out right next to their homework and the popsicle stick house currently being built. Around here, creativity has become as much a part of our home as the salt and pepper shakers sitting in the middle of the table.

Maybe what I've been longing to build isn't another product.

Maybe I've simply been longing to invite people to the table.

And maybe... that's what this has been becoming all along.

The Practice is a walk with me over the course of the next year as I intimately share my own creative journey while inviting you to discover yours.

Together, we'll create faithful rhythms that deepen our faith, awaken our curiosity and creativity, and remind us that this one beautiful life we've been given is worth living with intention.

You don't have to call yourself an artist to belong here.

You don't even have to believe you're creative.

You only need a willingness to pull up a chair.

Over the next few days, I'll begin sharing what that journey looks like. I have a feeling it may become one of the most meaningful things we create together.

But for today... I simply wanted to tell you its name, because names matter.

And this one feels like coming home.

Pull up a chair. We're just getting started.

P.S.S. If you don't want to hear about this, simply click here and we will not send you any more emails about it.​