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Creativity runs in my blood. My grandmothers were both makers, my Opa was as well. All in very different ways but in their own right. My mom is creative, too, although she’s probably deny it. My Dad claims that he doesn’t have a creative bone in his body regardless of the fact his mother was an incredible artist.

I mentioned in THIS POST that I had made myself a cuff with the saying on it – ‘called to be creative’.  It was a hashtag that I found and starting using some on Instagram.  But then the more I used it, the more it resonated with me.  I added up putting it on a cuff as a reminder to me to use my gifts.

I grew up being given free rein to a drawer of craft supplies. Later with fabric scraps and mom’s sewing machine. And the scrap wood in the machine shed was fair game, too. I made everything from clothes to forts to wild stories and poems. My access to materials was never denied.

But it was never a conscience thing. It was just how it was at home. All of us kids were always dreaming up something. And I know for my best friend growing up, it was the same. It was nothing for her to sew something up, or make something or other. I never thought a thing of it. It was perfectly normal. The fact that I was one of the very few in my Home Ec class that knew how to thread a sewing machine never occurred to me.

Fast forward to adulthood.  I spend my days creating comfy, inviting homes for my clients.  I love playing with colour.  I geek out over fabric samples.  I dream up combinations of flooring, backsplashes and furniture.  I think in Benjamin Moore colours for walls and Miss Mustard Seed paint colours for furniture.  I love taking something cast-off and turning it into something fabulous.  It’s just how I’m wired, how I am.  I think nothing of it.  It’s my normal.

But.  There’s always a but, right? It took me a long time to see that this is a form of creativity.  I don’t call myself an artist.  I don’t do oil paintings, I can’t whip up a landscape watercolour and I’ve only played with pottery a bit { but I’m aching to get back at it…. } I’m not an artist in the way that society thinks of an artist.  But it doesn’t mean I’m not creative.

These gifts I use in my day-to-day life, pairing colours, fabrics, styles, it is what I am called to do.  I’m called to help people turn a shell, a house into their home.  To talk with them and figure out what will work for them and help them create a space that they feel comfortable in.  And it is my pleasure to do so.  For a while, I felt as though my career as vanity, frivolous, fluff, if you will.  And I think it was because I didn’t realize that just anyone could do what I do.  I didn’t see the value in what I did.  And sadly I worked in this field for a long time before I realized my worth, the value in my skillset and gifts.

I keep referring to my design skills as a gift.  And I believe that.  I firmly believe that I was given this particular set of gifts and I am called to put them to use.  Whether that is out in my studio, setting our own house up or helping someone else transform their space. I think we are each given talents and gifts in this life.  What we do with them is up to us.  But I have found that putting our natural talents to use is far more fulfilling then fighting it.

So, I will continue on my path, using my creative talents in many ways.  In fact, I’ve got a fun project coming up in the next few months that I can’t wait to share with you all but I’ll keep that under wraps for the moment.  It is exciting to see the different ways that these can be exercised – my day job, my studio time, our home, my work with the At Home magazine, my blog, 4-H – so many ways to put these to good use!

It is my hope that you have discovered your talents and gifts.  And that you have found a way to put them to use that is rewarding, satisfying and fulfilling!

Colourfully yours,

Lori

PS The artwork in this post is from my grandmother, Lena, I feel quite honoured to have as much of it as I do!