We all have those things. The things that wound is the deepest, that hurt the most, the things we hope no one ever says to us. To me, one of those things is to be called a fraud. A fake. Inauthentic, not unique. To some of you this may mean absolutely nothing-- fake it till you make it, right? As far back as I can remember, the one thing I've wanted to be more than anything is authentic. I remember having mini identity crises where I worried I might pull never have a distinct aesthetic like my mom (I'm definitely an Enneagram 4, if that means anything to you). So today, when I was accused of being inauthentic, I was devastated. It hurt me in that place I really don't want to go. And I started to run through the Rolodex of D's: doubt, discouragement, despair, depression. I questioned myself, my art, my style. I'm still wrestling with all of this if I'm transparent. But as I got in bed tonight, still internally dissecting everything, I looked ahead, and saw this ️. This is the wall that faces me every morning and night. The first and last things I see. The words that I write for myself, the paintings Ive drawn that no one else sees. This is my style: eclectic, a little messy and scattered, bright and bold, truthful, in progress. Truthfully, this is me. Always in progress. "And I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ." (Phil 1:6). And praise the LORD that he is both the beginning and end of my work in progress. He never leaves us as we were, and he doesn't leave what he's started. This wall is why I do what I do. I seek to create art that brings courage and joy to others, that reminds us of our work in progress status, and our hopeful future. In a vain attempt to find myself, my style, my aesthetic, what I really pray I find is less of me, and more of Jesus.