I have to confess that artists' "work in progress" videos may be one of my favorite things! It’s amazing how much we can learn by watching someone break down their creative process step by step. It is a work of art in itself to make a beautiful and educational Work-In-Progress video. Yet, I have found, that every time I have tried to create content like this, I have stopped myself mid-way through. My process doesn’t always feel as beautiful. Those other artists make it look so easy. It's like I’m watching Bob Ross (the OG tutorial artist.) His soft voice is encouraging me that I can paint the same as him with a few strokes of a brush. I am that petrified viewer trying to open up tubes of craft paint and work with a palette knife for the first time. I yell, “No, Bob! I cannot do that!” So I stop. I have faced a lot of insecurity as an artist - heaps of it. When I took the leap to begin selling my artwork or showing it on a public platform, it took a ton of bravery. Now, I find myself again at the crossroads of needing to step out or slowly drift backward. Here we are, Bob, what do you have to say to me? Thanks, Bob, thanks for the reminder. So, recently I watched one of the videos that is recorded every time I make something in the Procreate App. The piece was an idea I had sketched and wanted to flesh out into reality. The funny thing about this video is I had no intention of sharing it. So It is this mess of a video where you can see all my erasing and trying something and then changing it back and forth. Halfway through this process I noticed the main figure’s head was too large. So, I shrunk it and started over in a few places. It is a mess! This would be the moment when I abandon the video and hope that the next one is more smooth or that I make less "mistakes." But, there's this section of the video when I started adding color to the image. I added and then erased and then added again. It is this beautiful kaleidoscope of colors and textures moving back and forth and back again. It was pretty mesmerizing to watch. I realize now that if I had gone into that painting knowing exactly what it was going to turn out as I wouldn't have even started. The joyful part of the process is getting to make those "mistakes" and experiment with different ideas. Every step is growth, every choice leads to the next, every risk brings a reward. So, here we are, posting this messy (sometimes chaotic) video of trying and erasing and trying again. Because this feels like my life right now. It is starting and stopping. It is going back to the reference sketch, wondering if I got off-track somewhere. It is re-focusing and seeing it from a distance. Life is very much like a "Work In Progress" video waiting to be watched and learned from. It is one step at a time with a tube of craft paint and a palette knife.
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What does “PLAY” look like?!
Honestly, play can be difficult to engage in. In our efficiency-driven world, we can push aside fun in order to reach a better bottom line. Even in starting this design page and trying to step out into creativity, I have had to fight against editing my own voice. It is easy to ask “will people like this?”, “Is this good enough,” “Will this sell?” And, end up not making anything at all. A few nights ago I woke up at 3:30am, my head swimming with feelings of failure and trepidation around my “purpose.” What if I have missed it? What If I’m not good enough to really make it (whatever that means.) But in the middle of those anxious thoughts swirling around, I heard this phrase, “It’s All Play.” I could almost hear Jesus laughing because I had taken something as beautifully simple as painting and created anxiety over it. I could hear His reassuring voice, “It’s just paint, Nina… It’s all play.” By 4am, I rolled out of bed and pulled out my watercolors. I slapped colors on some cheap paper and began to play. It was tough to let go and not micro-manage my own paintbrush. But, by the morning I had played till my mind felt rested again. Recently my PLAY has been picking wildflowers and staring into fields of clovers looking for one with 4 leaves. PLAY is pressing flowers and being okay if I didn’t utilize every second of the day. It brings me joy. What brings you Joy? How do you like to play? Every single minute matters, every single child matters, every single childhood matters. - Kailash Satyarthi One of my favorite stories that my Mom use to tell me while growing up was how I got my name. Before she started having kids, she set out to pray and ask God to name each of her children. But, when she was pregnant with me, she wanted to be surprised what gender I would be. So, when she asked the Lord what to name me God gave her two names, a boy and a girl name. When I was born she named me Nina Elizabeth, which means: little girl consecrated unto God. I love that story because It really has been a theme of my life. Before I was even born God marked me as one who is dedicated to Him. What a beautiful story of how our Heavenly Father sees our stories from beginning to end and weaves His heart into it all. But, I do have to say, I have really struggled over the years with the "Little Girl" part of my name. I think mostly because I never felt like I was very good at being a little girl. I'm sure I'm not the only one that has struggled with embracing their childhood. I wasn't the type of kid that had a "thing" that I excelled at. My two brothers, on the other hand, found their talents pretty early on. My little brother had the Midas Touch with everything he pursued and my older brother was a walking dictionary that consumed massive amounts of books by the time he was 9. I tried sports but was a little too clumsy. It became obvious quickly that I didn't have the knack for reading or comprehension like my older brother. I liked to draw but didn't have much ability to warrant any lessons. I was a tomboy that wasn't really welcomed to run with the boys and didn't know how to connect with girly-girls. I was blessed to grew up in a home of loving parents and in an environment that was warm and encouraging. But, as an adult looking back, I tend to shy away from claiming that clumsy little girl with short hair, chubby cheeks, and a fragile heart as part of my own story.
As my brothers and I were running down the hill, Superman-style, I yelled at the top of my lungs, “Helen Keller to the rescue!” We had apparently just been learning about Helen Keller in school and I was enthralled by her story. I was eight and naive and didn’t realize how ironic and adorable and funny my innocent declaration was. But, even now, as I’m writing this, tears of embarrassment are welling up in my eyes. I never could live that moment down. A lie was planted that day into my little girl wounded heart: when you open your mouth you sound stupid, you are not worth listening to. It’s hard to look back on those times of intense insecurity and not think, “come on, Nina, you need to pull yourself together- be cool, stop being so weird. No one understands you when you’re weird.” That used to be my attitude towards little girl Nina. I was never very kind to her… to myself. It wasn’t until God started shining a light on my younger years that I really began to look at that time of my life with a new perspective. Before this, I was hesitant to even look at myself in old pictures. It would dredge up all those old voices of teasing and rejection that I had conditioned myself to agree with. Unknowingly, I was using self-deprecation as a defense mechanism. If I admitted that I was awkward and clumsy and dim and unlovable before someone else did, then I could just accept my own self-harm instead of feeling the wounds of a stranger/friend. Crazy right? But don't we do this all the time even as adults?
My heart began to change towards that little girl, slowly. I have three nieces and one of them reminds me of me as a kid. Just clumsy and adorable and untamed in the best of ways. When I look at her I don’t think, “she just needs to be cool and get her stuff together.” Absolutely NOT! I think, “Gosh, I want her to be that way for the rest of her life!” I want her to stay innocent and ask questions and be a know-it-all about the craziest things. Because, she’s this adorable little sponge that is beautiful and perfect, just the way she is. Why can’t I give myself that same grace?
In almost every struggle we face in our lives, we are met with the feeling of powerlessness. Somewhere along the road we lose hold of the reigns and we find ourselves grasping to get back in control. I still feel like i'm fighting to get back control of my own life, my own health, my own hair. And, sometimes It feels like the only power I still have in this situation is how things are perceived on this blog. Every post that I write or picture that gets taken of me is carefully put together so you see what I want you to see. . . what I'm okay with you seeing.
Slowly but surely God has been pulling back the veil and bringing me back into the light. "I didn't create you to live under a rock" - as encouraging as that phrase may seem on the surface, I didn't realize that when God whispered it into my heart It would be such a challenge to live out. My beautiful and loving Savior challenged me to go into the world without my hat on for the first time in months. I fought so hard against it! I wanted to be okay to keep my patchy red hair under wraps until it grew back into an "acceptable" hairdo. But I know what God is telling me. I need to come out from behind the wall of shame I had built around myself. So, here I am, walking through that process, I know I still have a ways to go. But, I know that in every place where I see struggle God sees an opportunity for His Glory to be displayed. I want to be a walking billboard for the Glory of God. Lord, do a new work in me! Photos by Darian Kayce Tarver : http://www.dariankayce.com/ I love this time of year. Chilly weather and hot apple cider- I love wrapping up in thick blankets and sitting around a camp fire. . . that rhymed and I didn't mean it to. But, that's what this season does to me. Overcast days means driving around listening to melancholy folk music or Bryan Adams' covers of Taylor swift songs. I was born for this time of year.
It is a curious feeling - then - that at the same time that I am reveling in all things autumn I am secretly wishing I could skip past all of it - Christmas, the hustle and bustle, and the expectations I put on myself to somehow have it all together. This "end of the year" push for resolution and starting over and beginning new has my little red-headed heart a little anxious. Because, I feel like I am quite literally starting over. Again. And, it's not my favorite thing. One week after Friendsgiving, I was sitting in my living room with my parents and we had our second annual big discussion about my hair. The alopecia "glory spots" have gotten bigger these last few months and are near impossible to cover now. I had to come to terms with the thought of doing something drastic with my hair again. The reason I am even writing this blog is because at some point in our conversation, my mom looked at me and said, "promise me one thing. . . No matter what you end up doing, take pictures first." It had been a while since I had documented the ever changing loss and growth of my poor little hair follicles. So, in true Nina fashion, the next day, I grabbed my camera on a overcast autumn day and began to take pictures. But, what began to happen as I captured these seemingly undesirable parts of me was the realization again of how beautiful those pieces really are. These spots that are gone but growing back. This tension of loss and growth, the push and pull of vibrant red hair growing back white. It is everything that I love about autumn. When green leaves are replaced with reds and yellows, setting the skyline alight with mesmerizing colors- there is no other response but to stand in awe . . . and take pictures. And, never for one moment have I ever thought "I wonder if the leaves will grow back next year." They just always do. They are made to lose and gain and grow and change, all for the glory of their Creator. So am I. I was made for this time of year.
There is comfort in knowing that God looks at me and doesn't see a tree losing it's leaves and wonders if I'll ever grow them back again. It's comforting to know that in all my mess and undesirable pieces, He sees a process of life playing out before him. I pray that I will not look on my life with shame but rejoice that God redeems all the broken pieces of our lives for His glory. "I will build my life, upon your love It is a firm foundation. I will put my trust in you alone, And I will not be shaken" - Housefires (build my life)
It has been one year. A year ago today I walked into a dermatologist office and had someone put the word "Alopecia" on my chart. A year ago today I unknowingly walked into the craziest season of my life. Like rushing waters pouring into a home that's "not suppose to flood," I was watching bald patches appear on my scalp that "weren't suppose to be there." No one can prepare for things that aren't suppose to happen.
Honestly, I don't think that there is a "wrong" choice in this instance. Jesus would not have loved me any less if I had chosen to hide away in solitude until my hair grew back. God doesn't look down on people who, during this flood crisis, have allowed sadness to overwhelm them. These tough situations are an invitation from God to further deepen our intimacy with Him.
Sometimes when the "worst thing" happens to a person It is not the end of the book but the beginning of a new chapter. I can honestly say that this past year has been one of the best ones I've ever had - and it started with Alopecia. I would not have the confidence I have today- the vulnerability or empathy- without having to first walk through deep waters. I wouldn't be at Antioch Community Church today If I hadn't put myself out there and been willing to talk about my journey with a dear friend who invited me to my first lifegroup. My life will never be the same.
“...Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I am haunted by the fear that my hair will fall out again. It's tough to admit that I think about it constantly. The fact is, it's not an entirely irrational fear. . . my hair still falls out in patches. When i'm stuck in traffic I find myself feeling for new places where hair has fallen out, or in the morning I check the mirror to make sure none of my bald patches have grown. It can consume me.
My fear doesn't change a single thing. My worry or anxiety of what may happen doesn't change the fact that God will see me through this trial when it comes - today or in the future. If I have to struggle through It again, I know that God will be no less God than He was when that first patch of hair fell out last August. He is still the Sovereign God over my circumstances. My heart has to be set and focused on His goodness and mercy rather than on my outward trial. God has been building up my faith and reminding me of His unending love. He has been pointing back to the fire that I walked through and been speaking life to me.
I pray that we would lead lives that are set and determined to glorify our Heavenly Father no matter the situation, no matter the hardship, no matter the sense of loss. I pray that God would point us back to those times that He carried us so that we remember His faithfulness is true. There is always hope to be enjoyed because our Jesus will not let us fall. There will never be a day when He won't be by your side.
"Do the difficult things while they are easy and do the great things while they are small. A journey of a thousand miles must begin with a single step." |
I feel like we spend our lives trying to find out who we are. This isn't a new concept, I know. But, I didn't realize how central this quest was for me until this month settle down inside of me. I have found myself feeling waves of frustration with my journey and the different forms that it has taken lately. To best understand why this has hit me so hard I think it's important to know the contrast between my life 6 months ago and today. Back in July of last year I was serving at a church in Covington in multiple capacities - worship leader, youth leader, staff member, secretary. I was singing about Jesus constantly between church and touring with Redemption Family. I was spread between visiting with friends and serving my church as much as I could handle. This was my life, the ever-present spinning between all the various components that my 26 year old self had taken on. . . . My life today is quite a different story. |
As I mentioned in the last blog, I have started attending a church in Baton Rouge. There is a deep knowing in my heart that God lead me there for this specific time and place in my life. Though, I don't think I quite understand the whole story yet. You see, I have just left a season of my life where constant and ever-present spinning was my normal. Now, there is a new frustration that has risen up in my chest and it is honestly very hard to combat at times . . . I'm afraid I'm not DOING enough.
Growing where you're planted...
I have been struggling to find the words to express how I have been doing these past few months. The words seem to ever be on the tip of my tongue yet never coming to the surface… I'm not "here", yet not quite "there." I'm not where I used to be, but I don't think i've landed yet. I am "In transition." |
I've used that phrase a lot, attempting to explain what season of life I'm in. Whatever has been happening, one thing is certain, I'm on the move. Transition means that we are in motion from one place to the next, gliding between two realities. It's not a stagnant experience by any means. It is exhilarating and terrifying, awkward and full of hope.
I have been on the move. . . and I don't quite know what to do with myself.
Because, the hardest part about it is that I haven't been transitioning in ONE area of my life- everything has been effected. My normal state of living is being turned over on it's head. For various reasons I no longer work the same job, attend the same church, have my usual group of friends, have the same hair. Everything has been stripped away.
I have been on the move. . . and I don't quite know what to do with myself.
Because, the hardest part about it is that I haven't been transitioning in ONE area of my life- everything has been effected. My normal state of living is being turned over on it's head. For various reasons I no longer work the same job, attend the same church, have my usual group of friends, have the same hair. Everything has been stripped away.
Life goes by too quickly. . .
I think that is a pretty safe statement to make. When I look back on the last three months of my life, I think the phrase "time flies" is a gross understatement. I feel like, even now, I am still catching my breath from the whirlwind that has been my season of transition. Everything has changed.
I found myself getting lost today, sloshing around in the unsteady waters of my own self doubt and frustration. It is easy to forget how far God has brought you whenever you are faced with ever present tidal waves of expectation. It seems I have always put unwarranted and unfair qualifiers on myself- I extend far more grace towards others than I do for myself. And, today I was drowning in it. But, we forget, don't we, of the power of our Almighty and Sovereign God.
I think that is a pretty safe statement to make. When I look back on the last three months of my life, I think the phrase "time flies" is a gross understatement. I feel like, even now, I am still catching my breath from the whirlwind that has been my season of transition. Everything has changed.
I found myself getting lost today, sloshing around in the unsteady waters of my own self doubt and frustration. It is easy to forget how far God has brought you whenever you are faced with ever present tidal waves of expectation. It seems I have always put unwarranted and unfair qualifiers on myself- I extend far more grace towards others than I do for myself. And, today I was drowning in it. But, we forget, don't we, of the power of our Almighty and Sovereign God.
So, ever so gently, I felt God bring to my memory what the Children of Israel did in the Old Testament to remind themselves of God's goodness- they built altars. The Israelites built altars of stone that would commemorate when God moved on their behalf. (example: Joshua 4:19-24) The purpose of these altars was for all generations to be able to see the monuments of stone and to be told about what the Lord had done on that spot. But what does an altar look like today? What kind of commemoration can we build to proclaim the goodness of God? It is not until I wrote those questions that I realized what I failed to see earlier today. . . This blog is an altar. |
My story - and the countless chapters and words therein - stack on top of each other like stones of an altar. It is here that i've come to confess my short comings and plead for God's merciful love to radiate from my life in spite of my broken self.
Then, God brought me back. . . to YOU. My friends, my family.
Then, God brought me back. . . to YOU. My friends, my family.
About the Author:
Nina Schultz is a 34 year old redhead from South Louisiana now living in Dallas, Texas. Her passion for people, creativity, and her faith has sparked many of the adventures she has found herself on. Whether it is through photography, art, music, or writing- she is always ready to capture the profoundly beautiful moments of life- common or extraordinary.
Nina Schultz is a 34 year old redhead from South Louisiana now living in Dallas, Texas. Her passion for people, creativity, and her faith has sparked many of the adventures she has found herself on. Whether it is through photography, art, music, or writing- she is always ready to capture the profoundly beautiful moments of life- common or extraordinary.
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