A Place of My Own

Ever since I can remember, I have been the crafty sort. I collected popsicle sticks, gum wrappers, bottle caps, and beads. I was never without a desire to create. While growing up, I won a few small rewards for my art work. In third grade, I won the Safety Poster Contest. In eighth grade I won a weekend class to the Memphis College of Art. And in the twelfth grade, I had a Conte pencil drawing of a tiger sent to New York for display. Although I had many outlets to fulfill my time, art seemed to be a passion deep within me that wouldn't dissipate. When I was in middle school, my Daddy gave me one of his old briefcases. A green one that had pockets that snapped and was deep enough to carry my small collection of beads. That was in the days that green stamps and quality stamps were given when groceries were purchased. Momma let me have the stamps each time (even if there was only one), so I collected and filled the books: eager to go to the store and redeem them for what I had chosen from the catalogue. My first purchase was a package of beads. It had 8 tubes filled with an assortment of colorful beads. I still have the beads and the briefcase to this day. I made a few things with them, but I loved feeling them and knowing that they were my special collection.

When I began raising my babies, I would sew to make extra money for Christmas. I made bunnies and reindeer fully dressed, shower curtains, curtains, duvets, and I spent a few weekends at local craft fairs selling my wares. Back then, it was a way to release my creativity and earn extra money. I didn't realize until I was older that I was embracing what a Proverbs 31 woman is required. I only knew that I had to create.

When I married my husband Larry, one of my siblings mentioned my obsession for beads. His reaction was like that of a light bulb flashing on in a darkened room. He didn't say a word but went straight to the attic door, pulled it down, went inside and came down with a plastic bin full of beads and jewelry findings. I opened the box and screamed at the plethora of treasures. As I jumped up and down with each jar that was so meticulously sorted into varying colors, he came down with yet another box. I'm not talking small boxes here! And then another and another. There were 6 in total. I thought I was transported to the movie The Goonies and had found the treasures of a whole armada. He said I could have them; that they were a collection passed down from his great aunt and nobody seemed to know what to do with them, but they just never got rid of them. I knew what to do with them! A few years later when I was putting things into that same attic, I saw some boxes pushed to the back and proceeded to check the contents. Yep, you guessed it - three more boxes full.

That's when I began to set up a place to call my own. A room in my home that would hold the treasures that I would create. I filled my little room with all of the things I use to create until it soon became too small. I moved everything to a larger room upstairs until it too began to overflow. A few months ago my Larry said that I should bring it all back downstairs and turn the guest bedroom into my studio. So, that's what I did. Although it has taken a month to put it back together, it is a dream come true. It's a place that I go to dream and create. A place to meditate and to relax in. I can now touch the passion that has been a part of me since I was a child. It's not just art; it's an innate desire to create. It's a passion. I love my new studio and the fact that my husband has encouraged me to create a retreat from the hectic day to day issues and follow my heart. He has unselfishly provided me with a place to call my own. Something every woman should have.