My Creative Self
to reclaim, to restore
to reclaim: to rescue something, to restore it to a better condition than before
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Winter 2026
It’s a week after Christmas and I see a creative cohort opportunity pop up with an author I love. I toggle with the idea of joining but push it aside because we just spent money on gifts for the kids. A week goes by and the idea I toggled with now nags at me.
I check the cash-reward points on my credit card: to the dollar, it’s the exact cost of the cohort. I consider the constant nag, add to cart, and purchase.
The following week I’m re-reading Create Anyways with a group of various creative mothers and hop onto a zoom with Ashlee, to talk about our God-given call to create in the midst of motherhood.
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Fall 2025
Rewind just a handful of months, my watercolor paints sit shriveled up and dry. They’re no longer in view but tucked away in a drawer. My laptop is plugged in and untouched on my husband’s desk. Even my microsoft word account expires (and I couldn’t even tell you when that happened) because it’s been unused. I don’t write and I don’t paint. Two things that make me feel like me. Instead I do two other things: I sleep when my kids sleep and sit on the little blue stool in the kids bathroom, thanks to a wanted, but very nauseating guest, the size of a blueberry, growing within my belly.
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Winter 2026
My cohort pushes me to grow in two ways:
one, to create simply out of a call to create by a creative creator
two, to be a little more courageous in that call
I start using nap times again to swirl watercolor across paper.
I send two emails early one morning before my kids get up, one to a local bakery that displays and sells art from local artists and the other to a local shop about teaching watercolor workshops in their little studio.
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Spring 2026
I start adding things to our family calendar because I’m learning that the best way to make time for my creative self— to truly rest and sabbath— in such a busy season with our hands so full, is to literally block off the time.
I find that when my husband says, “I’ve got the kids for a few hours, go do something”, that I end up wasting what feels like precious time by running errands or doing something that doesn’t truly fill me up.
I step away from motherhood for a few hours to teach my first watercolor workshop. Two whole people come. I have a friend who reminds me you have to start somewhere. I don’t even mind, I’m just glad they were both eager students vs my grandma taking the class out of pity for me. The next class is full and genuinely so much fun to teach.
For Easter we decide to lean into sabbath and we put the word BEACH on the calendar. We go to church service the night before, reheat a batch of pancakes the morning of, and pack our buckets and shovels. I sit in a beach chair next to my husband for a long time while our kids play in the sand. We pull out watercolors and fill up our buckets with water from the ocean. My daughter complains that her brother gets sand on her painting, but that’s just part of painting at the beach. We capture the beauty we see— it’s messy and imperfect, but a slice of joy.
I sign up for a botanical workshop with my very favorite watercolor artist. I get the time wrong (eastern vs western time, whoops) so instead of creating later in the day with the babysitter I had scheduled (thanks mom), I wake up with the sunrise and hop on zoom. I can’t tell you how enjoyable it is to start my morning this way. I use a way bigger brush than normal and Arin encourages us to hold it loosely, which forces me to let go of control a bit (something I actually like about watercolor). I hop off the call a little early for an OB appointment and count down the hours until nap time, to catch the rest of class through the recording. I don’t think I can describe how much I truly enjoy learning (I hope I’m always this way).
My kids tag along as I hang up art in the bakery and we eat way too many blackberry lemon scones and circus cookie macaroons. It feels special that they get to do this tiny thing with me.
We print off new recipes and whisk muffin batter, knead scones, and stir rolled oats to make granola. We enjoy sharing the fruit of our labor almost as much as we enjoy eating it ourselves.
We build with blocks and create tall towers. We color at the kitchen table endlessly. I wipe marker off the table, endlessly. We catch lady bugs and build them an obstacle course (that one is all my four year old). We thoroughly enjoy looking for new buds and blooms in our yards and the yards of our neighbors.
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I tell my husband I feel like I’m writing about the same thing I always write about— a pursuit to create in the margins of motherhood. But I guess this my attempt to reclaim, to celebrate the places the Lord has restored my life after a season in a valley, even if it seems small. And I’m hoping it encourages you to do the same.
To keep looking for the light—-
Kendra
What are you creativity working on or pursuing right now?
Are you in the middle of painting your guest bathroom? Finally hanging up those family pictures on your living room wall? Baking while little hands taste test the batter? Learning to cross stitch? I would love to hear!
This post is part of a blog hop with Exhale—an online community of women pursuing creativity alongside motherhood, led by the writing team behind Coffee + Crumbs. Click HERE to view the next post in the series “Reclaim.”
You can also stay up to date much more often on all creative things — HERE!
To keep looking for the light!! Love these glimpses of faithfulness and following a calling.
Looking for the light with ya...