For most of my design career, I created apparel and worked at various t‑shirt printing shops. It was fun. It taught me a lot. I met people who were passionate about change—people with hearts like mine who wanted to serve their communities through design.
But still, something always felt… missing.
At the time, I couldn’t put my finger on it. I loved creating. I loved collaborating. But there was this quiet ache, this whisper in my spirit that said, there’s more. I didn’t know what that meant back then, so I kept showing up, learning, and creating—believing that, somehow, God would reveal the purpose behind it all.
Looking back now, I realize those years were a season of preparation. They weren’t wasted; they were foundational. God was teaching me discipline, humility, and how to serve through creativity.
That all shifted one day when I was searching for a specific style of art for a project—something I had once seen on a website created for “church creatives.” The pieces there struck me deeply. I was drawn to how they merged scripture and imagery, how they turned biblical truths into something visual and relatable, especially for the next generation.
When I went searching for what I had envisioned in my mind, I couldn’t find it anywhere. So, I started creating it myself.
At first, I tried to emulate what I had seen used in churches—but as I worked, something changed. I began to hear God’s ideas, see His visions, and feel His guidance in the creative process. It became personal. It became ours.
That was the moment everything shifted.
Still, doubt crept in.
Who am I to make church graphics when I don’t even work in a church?
Who am I to think I can speak to people through art when others are already doing it so well?
But God quickly reminded me—His presence isn’t confined to a building. The “church” is not a location; it’s His people. The Holy Spirit doesn’t need walls to move.
He told me, You don’t have to have a title to create for My Kingdom.
And in that revelation, I finally understood my assignment. I was called to create outside the building—to make art that could reach people right where they were: in their bedrooms, hospital waiting rooms, prayer closets, silent battles, and private grief.
I’ve known for years that my art would one day help people, but I never knew how.
Now I do.
Because after all this time, I’ve healed. I’ve partnered with God in my ruins, and together, we’ve begun rebuilding. In the process, I’ve discovered who I really am—not who the world says I should be, but who God designed me to be.
I’ve found that He is present right there in the mess—where the walls are knocked down, where the broken pieces are visible, and where I have nothing left to hide. That’s where He meets me. That’s where His love breathes new life.
That’s the heartbeat behind my art: to let people know they can be vulnerable and real with God—and with others—in healthy, honest ways. I want people to see that God truly is for them, that His love runs deeper than the lies or noise in their minds.
Recently, God also revealed to me that I have Autism and ADHD. At first, it was hard to accept, even though deep down, I always knew I was wired differently. I see differently. I think differently. I feel differently. And yes, I struggle in different ways too.
But through that process, I’ve learned that my struggles don’t define me—God does. His Word defines me, and it upholds me through my hardest moments.
I’ve also realized something important: I connect to the world best through visuals. I used to think that was just because I was an artist—but now I see it’s part of how I’m uniquely made. For many of us with ADHD or Autism, visuals help us remember what matters.
And the truth is—the enemy loves to use forgetfulness to pull us away from God’s promises. That’s why reminders are so powerful. They realign us with truth—reminding us who we are, whose we are, and what God has done for us.
Whether it’s written on a board, displayed on a chart, or captured in a piece of art—reminders bring us back to the heart of God. That’s what I want my art to do, for everyone—whether they’re neurodivergent or not.
Because everyone has experienced pain. Everyone has faced trauma. And everyone, in their humanity, needs grace.
As for my spiritual journey… that’s a story of its own. But what I can say is this: I’ve walked through trauma and abuse, and God has turned my ashes into beauty. I’ve endured intense spiritual warfare, but with His strength, I’ve seen generational curses break.
I am a prayer warrior—for my family, my bloodline, and for others.
And just so you know a little more about me—I love archery, drawing, coloring, designing (obviously), reading, kayaking, biking, tai chi, and researching. I’m a mom. A digital collage artist. A graphic designer. A writer. An Audhd advocate. I love to encourage and guide others. And I deeply love Jesus.
If my art meets you in a hard moment—if it helps you remember that God is still with you—then it’s doing exactly what it was created to do.
This is my offering.
My healing in visual form.
My heart—made tangible.
Thank you for being here.
I pray that something in this space leads you back to hope.