Transcript:

The piece you're looking at now is my first professional commission.

It was a commission that was done by someone who wasn't a friend, wasn't someone who was close to me. And it was like a true... person who found me through Instagram and invited me to make a piece for their home.

And it was like a tried-and-true, send me an invoice, give me a deposit, let's connect type of situation.

So it felt like the beginning of me really being able to possibly make painting a career path.

And I was excited and nervous and excited.

I tried to put my best professional foot forward.

I met this client 45 minutes from my house, toured their home, listened to their heart, tried to make a deep connection, and prayerfully engaged in a process that felt exciting and scary, but I wanted to give my very best to.

After taking extensive notes and sending sketches and mood boards and doing all of the things in the right order, the client signed off on what I was going to make for them.

I worked diligently and for hours and hours and hours on a piece and got it framed.

And when I came to bring it to their home, I did so with a card in hand.

And the card I used was an alternative quick paper sketch with ink and pigment and paint—just as a thank you for giving me this opportunity.

I come in and I deliver the painting and, um, after bringing it to their home, the client says that they don't actually really resonate with it.

And they really want actually what I made for their card.

They wanted that, actually, as the painting.

So that was a complete shift of what I expected.

But being my first client and being something I really wanted to do well, I said, okay.

I took the painting back and took the card back with me as a new inspiration source and once again began the process of making them a painting.

This time I really had to, like, drum up the prayer, really try to reduce the frustration and friction in my heart, and went back to the drawing board.

This time, in order to make sure there was no communication or confusion, I took pictures of the painting as it was in progress and shared that, got the sign-off, took a final photo before they came to pick it up.

And communicated payment details. Communicated payment would be due upon delivery.

And they signed off, said they loved it.

They loved the final piece.

That's the piece you're looking at now.

And, um, came and picked it up.

Acted really excited.

I reiterated, "Could you please pay me?"

And they said, "Yes, I'll Venmo you in the car as soon as I get loaded up."

But unfortunately, didn't get a Venmo.

Followed up later that day.

Said, "Yes, I'll Venmo you later."

Didn't get a payment.

Days go by.

And, um, follow up again about payment.

And they said, "Actually, really, this just doesn't resonate now that it's in our home. It doesn't feel like this is the right thing. Could you just take the card and just blow it up and scan it and give us a print of that?"

For a pretty much, much, much, much, hundreds-of-dollars-reduced price.

Um.

And then eventually I got the painting back and kept the card out of bitterness, probably in frustration.

And then over time communicated I would not be willing to essentially for free make them a print, but I'm happy to give them their card back.

Mailed it back.

Lost money on this project.

So much money.

And more than that, felt such a bruised ego.

So crushed.

Called a friend and felt so embarrassed—the shame and embarrassment of thinking this was my breakthrough moment, but instead feeling like I had not one, but two failed commissions.

And one... um...

So embarrassed.

So embarrassed I didn't get payment.

So embarrassed I didn't handle this more professionally.

Just racking my brain of what I could have done better.

But more than anything, just so embarrassed that I put my heart and soul into two different paintings and for nothing to show—nothing for it.

And, uh, felt so, so, so sad and mortified.

And in the end, I met with the Lord and just was praying over this.

And felt like he asked me if this was going to be how it was.

And there is no promise of success in this.

There is no promise of validation in painting.

Would I still be willing to do it?

And that was a kind of critical moment where I felt this pause.

I had to make a decision.

Was the excitement and joy behind this venture because I was meeting with him in it?

Or was it because I was getting validation and approval from man?

And I had to decide there.

I made a choice that the fear of rejection, that the validation of man, that the acceptance and approval of others was just not going to define my yes in this moment.

And that I was going to give it and be courageous to keep giving my yes in painting because of the fear.

The approval of the Lord and the connection and place of communion with him—that it was still well worth it.

And that I was just going to keep on keeping on.

So with the courage that I received from him, and from the courage and encouragement I received from Daniel and my friend Holly Barton, who knows the conversations well—lots of tearful calls, where she got angry and in my corner, which is what you need a true friend for sometimes—that was what I needed to keep on keeping on.

So I decided I will never, ever give this piece away.

I would never sell it.

It's mine forever as a reminder.

A visual reminder that I met the Lord and he is my why.

And I am going to keep on pressing forward no matter what someone else may say.