For as long as I can remember I’ve always been a creative. Though it isn’t something I always claim, or feel competent enough to be called, I know deep down it’s true. Who knows what is at the root of this creativity, but like most things it is bound to be fueled by many things over my lifetime. My mom was an amazing seamstress. I can remember stories of college textiles professors laughing at her when she suggested creating her own patterns for a project (she did it anyway) and the famous family story of my dad’s mom and grandma being impressed when she could quickly mend her own clothes at a family function. But aside from the family roots, our parents surrounded us with creatives from an early age (whether they realized it at the time or whether they were just capitalizing on the eager youth at church remains to be seen). Crafts were typical when Annette would babysit us: I distinctly remember making t-shirts with fabric paint and sequins and stamps, and making sock puppets with paint and yarn and googly eyes. And she still uses that creativity to share her story and inspire the world. Make-believe ran rampant when Sara would babysit us: popcorn bowl hates and stories of heroes and princesses, games that bordered breaking the rules (and actually broke part of the chandelier–oops). And she still uses that creativity to write and envision fantasy world. And there were many, many, many more people who taught me to dream and create and get messy.
I’ve dabbled in many areas. I took ceramics and sculpture and two years of jewelry making in high school. I took ceramics in college, and opted out of metals (even though my talent was recognized and I was encouraged to be an art minor) because the professor was not my favorite. I taught myself to knit, encouraged by my grandma, and to crochet, encouraged by my talent at dropping stitches when I knit. I started journaling in middle school and do so on and off when the mood strikes. I write poetry (often brought on my changing relationships and grief). I started a novel for NaNoWriMo one year (but didn’t stick with it). I love to sing. But some of my favorite things include painting and hand lettering. I have a knack for being able to recreate what I see with an ease and elegance. To me this blog serves as a type of creativity as well. I enjoy it, and always say it’s more for me than anyone else but that if it helps someone else that is an added benefit.
So when I had a friend tell me the other day how much she enjoys my blog, I freaked out (because sometimes I forget people actually read what I share). But she used it as a springboard to tell me that she thought her girlfriend and I should start a podcast. I laughed, audibly (not just “lol” like people say, I actually laughed out loud). Nonchalantly I said something along the lines of “oh yeah, that’d be cool…” not really thinking much of it. But fast forward a few days and this showed up on my porch:
Well, that certainly got the ball rolling. We came up with a name (drat, it was already taken). So we came up with a second one (didn’t quite fit) and a third (YES! Winner!). And I created a logo. And we secured a gmail account and an instagram account. And now our daily conversation is about what we want our blog to be about. It’s exciting and daunting. But I am so humbled that my two dear friends thought I was cool enough to have a blog (and that I have enough to say to share with the world). Sometimes creativity comes easily. And sometimes you need a kick in the ass from someone else. So here’s to many, many podcast episodes about faith and mental health and relationships and silliness and storytelling. Feel free to follow along as Tara and I take you on a journey through our minds (warning: who knows what you’ll run into along the way). Instagram: @sparksisterspodcast or firstname.lastname@example.org