On a regular day – a day filled with a long day at work, followed by making sure my children were fed, did homework, loved and ready for bed – I struggled to get the laundry done. I was just over it. The mundane. The every day chores. The keeping up with it all. Why did I do this every day? Wasn’t there a better way? Why are we called to feel like housekeepers for those that live in our house?Continue reading “The Paper Heart Diaries”
Mornings are both hard and wonderful all at once. The alarms, the dread of the to do list, the day that lies ahead. So hard. But the wonder of a new day, the opportunities that are there. So beautiful. God gives us a new slate, a new chance, each day. This piece helped pull me out of a time where things were just hard. This piece is filled with joy – the joy of a new chance, a fresh day, a glorious morning.
Y’all. This commission was one of the hardest, yet most fun, I’ve ever done (and I’m pretty sure I’ve lost some sleep over it).
I get a message in the fall from dear friends (Lori and Wes Tuttle) about a commission to add to their collection of art. I am so blessed to have worked with them previously on two separate commissions and was excited at the prospect of a third!
Here comes the plot twist…instead of working with them directly, as I have in the past, and getting direction and inspiration directly from the clients…I had the opportunity to work with their decorator and completely surprise them! The Tuttles had no say in colors, inspiration, look or composition, nor were they involved in the approval process at all. Their designer, Sarah Mickney of Design Envy, and I FaceTimed a few times throughout the process and she provided me with wallpaper and fabric samples, as well as the strict instruction to include just a hint of orange to tie in their love of all things Clemson (yes, this was hard for me to do).
I know Lori and Wes from way back when in Charleston, and knowing that they are both very sentimental, I knew I needed to focus on the Lowcountry, a place where they dated, married and lived before moving to Fort Mill. Before I knew it, the two blank canvases transformed into a flowing deep blue creek and green marsh scene, reminiscent of a hot Fourth of July day where Lori and I, along with some other friends, sat on floats in the creek outside of my parents’ house and yelling to Papa Joe to refill our floating cooler with Coors Lights when we ran low.
I had the best time delivering “Float” and “Soak” to Lori at a random Winnsboro truck stop off I-77 on a rainy Friday afternoon, and seeing her shocked face as she got to see not only the paintings for the first time, but hear the story behind why I chose this scene, I knew I got it right. These custom pieces will hang in the Tuttle’s newly-decorated dining room and I cannot wait to see them!
This collection, painted from some of the sweetest memories, took me on a journey to places, that while far from each other in distance, have one common thread that travels through each of them – family. Each of these pieces embodies a place that is more than a vacation or a location. These pieces tell the story of my family and where our stories are written.
Available @ Christenberry Collection
This piece captures the bright beauty that is seen in a fall sunset in the Lowcountry. Growing up on the marsh was a treasure for me, and now I am able to share that with my husband and children every time we visit my parents.
Blueberry Dreams: While visions of gorgeous lakes come to mind when one thinks of Michigan, I remember a misty, cool morning where our family packed up and went on a walk a few blocks away from our family’s house to pick blueberries. I still remember the joy in our children’s eyes, who were still in their pajamas, as they giggled and ate the blueberries they picked off the bushes.
Mountain Views: An escape to the mountain lakes and streams does the heart and soul good. Time spent fly fishing in the peaceful nature helps restore the broken pieces of our lives.
Bahamas Blues: What better place to remember than wading in the blue waters on Tahiti Beach, basking in the glorious sunshine.
Downeast Maine: For a place that seems so serene, I am often reminded of nature’s power and fury. With the jagged rocks and the waves crashing on them, I am reminded how very small I truly am.
Oh, sweet boy, if only you knew.
We’re now into this pandemic. Six months in. We don’t know when it will ended or what the future will hold. We don’t know when my fifth grader will see his friends in person at school instead of over Google Meets. We don’t know when I can set foot in my four-year-old’s preschool classroom to kiss him goodbye instead of at the front door. We don’t know when I’ll actually be able to go into a grocery store and smile a smile at the cashier that they will be able to see.
Brave. It’s something we’ve all had to dig deep to find over these past few months. Fear, anxiety and grief have gripped our hearts and souls. But, sweet friend, bravery is in there. We all have that brave somewhere deep inside. You are brave – whether you’re a teacher working twice as hard to support our children both academically and emotionally, whether you’re considered an essential worker and put your health at risk every single day – you are brave. To the mamas and daddies that are making gut-wrenching, difficult decisions as to how to provide for families and the best learning environments for our children when there is no good answer – you are brave. To those who spend day-in and day-out in solitude to protect themselves and their communities – you are brave.
Settle in. Settle in to who I am, who I’m meant to be. Break free from who I “tried” to be or “thought” I should be. Focus on what is good, what is right and what is well. Throw out the social norms and the boxes that the world tries to put me in. Break out of the boundaries and the invisible lines drawn in the sand.
Settle in. Settle into strength and bravery. Acknowledge my fears and face them head-on. Settle in to who God made me to be.
When the world shifted in a matter of 24 hours, our lives changed, perhaps for the better. We went from running to meetings, checking emails at all hours, racing to get the children home in time for dinner and bed to a slower life. Instead of a before-dawn alarm jolting me out of bed, I have a slower morning, share coffee while studying His word and snuggle with my children before we start work and school. We share lunches at the kitchen table and take afternoon golf cart rides.
We’re together. We’re sharing life and we are connecting in a way we’ve never connected before. I don’t want to go back to “normal” – I’ve embraced this slower way of life. This feeling of “togetherness” is one I’ve never experienced and I wouldn’t trade it for the world. I’m soaking up every minute of it, knowing it won’t last forever. I’m cherishing this time together.
Burden is such a heavy word. Such a heavy load. But it’s the best way to describe these past six months for me, for you you, for our neighbors, for our communities. Whether the burden is nourishing both the body and soul of your children, supporting a loved one through an illness or fighting to work hard every day in a world that completely tilted on its side, that burden is heavy.
As I began this series I call “Settling In,” I struggled with my own burdens. The year started with the loss of someone very dear to me, and quickly followed with a global pandemic and a uprisings that continued to bring to light the racially unjust world we live in. Decisions I faced when it came to my children and my family weighed me down. Juggling a career and a family – all under the same roof, all at the same time – put a strain on my wellbeing. The weight of questioning my self-worth, my ability as a mother and a wife and whether I was truly made to get through all of this – that burden truly weighed and dragged me down.
I finally gave that burden to the one who best to carry our weight. Jesus asked to take it off of my shoulders, to give me that much-needed relief. He replenished me after months of exhaustion.
And because of Him, I broke through that burden. And it was beautiful.
Tired. Anxious. Thirsty. These past few months have been filled with so many trials and emotions that none of us ever imagined experiencing. Jesus promises to make a path for us – one of righteousness and love, goodness and joy. Jesus promises those who drink of his living, eternal water true and real grace. He gave it to a woman (yes, a woman!), a Samaritan and a sinner – and he gives it to me, to you. So let’s meet Him at the well. Let’s fill our cup. Let’s drink. And let’s be refreshed and renewed. Rejoice, sweet friends!Continue reading “At the Well Collection”
Growing up spending summers along the coast of Maine and in the Lowcountry of South Carolina, I was drawn to the fields of flowers. In Maine, my grandmother and I would paint the fields – often filled with greens, yellows, pinks and purples. I loved lupines and am always reminded of Nanny when I see them. In the Charleston area, I spent a lot of time at Boone Hall Plantation with my family, where I fell in love with one field in particular that was always filled with bright colors in the springtime.Continue reading “Wildflower Collection”