No. 030: Patient Creativity

What Making Art Can Teach Us about Motherhood [republished from Risen Motherhood]

This article was first published on March 6, 2025, by Risen Motherhood. Some of you therefore may have already read it a year ago, but as many likely know, Risen Motherhood closed shop a couple weeks ago following its founders’ convictions that the ministry had served its purpose for its given season and that their families were ready for them to move into new chapters of life. I’m now republishing the article here, both for posterity’s sake and in celebration of Mother’s Day, with full permission of the Risen Motherhood team.

A little over three years ago, in the autumn of 2021,¹ I ordered the supplies I needed to make my foray into the craft of linocut printmaking: six sheets of easy-cut linoleum, a carving tool, an ink roller, a pad of paper, and a five-color set of block-printing inks. I was an absolute beginner, but I was motivated to become an artist—to learn to make prints I’d be proud to share with the world. In the first weeks of 2025, I finally launched an online storefront to sell my handmade prints, and within twenty-four hours, I made my first sale—a small, simple print of several indigo forget-me-nots.

The three years between my first steps into printmaking and the launch of my online shop taught me much. They taught me how to innovate. They taught me how to translate my stories, hopes, and feelings into vibrant, two-dimensional images, and they taught me how to embrace a style all my own. All of that I might have expected; but there was one byproduct of my years of practice that came as a surprise. That is, those years taught me how to be a better mother.

Art and Patience

You would wince if you saw how much of my artwork ends up in the trash can. It’s a lot. The printmaking process involves several steps—carving the inverse image into the printing block, cutting the block into various pieces for a multi-color image, rolling ink on each of the pieces, and then pressing the paper onto the inked block—and a tiny error in any one of these steps can ruin an entire print. Sometimes the ink doesn’t transfer sufficiently to the paper; sometimes my messy fingers smudge the margins; and sometimes the paper shifts off-center from the block. And that’s nothing to say of the many projects that look great in my mind but for whatever reason don’t impress when finally printed on paper.

The process of making art is and always will be a process of trial and error—so much error. And even once we’ve nailed the basics of working in a particular medium, continuing to improve demands of us yet more trial and yet more error. This is precisely why so many people abandon their artistic goals soon after adopting them: the gratification of producing quality art comes slowly, and even when it does, the wins often feel clouded by failures.

Often I have spent entire days brainstorming, sketching, carving, and printing new ideas, only to pull my paper up from the inked block and sigh in defeat, “Nope—it’s not a keeper.” The hustle culture of the current age would have me believe that days such as these are a waste of time, a waste of effort, and a waste of materials. And I’ll admit, sometimes they feel that way. Progress, when I can perceive it at all, most often feels painstakingly slow. There were many moments during my three initial years of practice when I felt so dejected I wondered whether my dreams of making good art were ultimately a lost cause.

Eventually, I came to terms with a beautiful truth: An artist can only persevere with joy if she learns to wait patiently on the grace of Christ. None of us can make good art by the force of our own wills. All we can do is keep showing up, keep trying, keep rolling with the failures, and keep learning. This side of the new creation, we will never achieve consistent perfection in our artistic pursuits. But every once in a while, Christ will surprise us with his grace, and he will make something beautiful from our efforts. The piece will turn out perfectly, and God will use it to encourage those who behold it. These are the moments that redeem all the errors along the way, and they are worth celebrating.

Making Art and Loving Children

Putting effort into loving our children well, just like making art, can feel like a waste of time and effort when judged by the standards of the world. Because they are only human, our children sometimes will misuse or reject our gifts. Sometimes our best intentions bring no fruit, and sometimes, even when we want to love them well, we fail to exercise our love in a way that our children are able to receive. A sweet bonding activity we’ve planned might unravel into messy tantrums; a migraine frustrates our ability to shepherd them through the day with enthusiasm; and the toddler refuses to eat the birthday cake we spent hours preparing.

But sisters, consider how many people the Incarnate Son of God fed, healed, and comforted, only for them later to mock him and crucify him. Praise God that his love doesn’t operate according to the world’s economy of efficiency. God loves in perpetual abundance, and he always stands ready to gather those made in his image into his sheepfold. He gives, and he gives, and he keeps giving—even to those whom he foreknows will reject his grace. He generously distributes his grace in perfect patience, “not wishing that any should perish, but that all should reach repentance” (2 Pet. 3:9).

It is because of God’s gracious patience that Christian mothers can also love our children with patience (cf. 1 Cor. 13:4). We can bear with them patiently when their sin natures bubble to the surface, and we can also show patience to ourselves when our efforts to love them well don’t turn out as planned. The Spirit will empower us to keep showing up, to keep trying, and to keep loving, all the while trusting in God’s perfect timing to bring about the fruit of his kingdom in our families. Giving of ourselves in love will never be a waste of time, and if we desire to reap bountifully, we must be ready to sow bountifully (cf. 2 Cor. 9:6). Our God is the Artist of our children’s lives, and the masterpiece he is creating will be made perfect—in his timing, and by his grace.

The above article was one of two I wrote for Risen Motherhood, and I’m grateful that the other has found a new home online as well. You can now find “Stolen Years: Trusting Christ with Our Suffering” at The Sorrows of Eve, a website that “exists to equip the church with resources needed to understand and respond to perinatal mood and anxiety disorders such as postpartum depression, psychosis, post-traumatic stress disorder, bipolar, anxiety, and obsessive-compulsive disorder. With posts for both mom and support teams, it serves to both educate and encourage, providing a Christian understanding of PMADs built on a biblical worldview.”

If you know anything of my story, you know this is a mission about which I care deeply, and I am incredibly thankful for and encouraged by both the thoroughness and the thoughtfulness of the resources Kyleigh Dunn, The Sorrows of Eve’s founder, has offered through her website. I wish very much that I had known of these resources when I was waging my own war with postpartum depression, and to anyone is (or loves someone who is) currently struggling in this way, I strongly encourage you to browse The Sorrows of Eve website.

This month, I’d like to give one of you a pair of my aforementioned Forget-Me-Not prints—one to keep for yourself, and one to give to someone you love (your mom, daughter, sister, friend…).

Click the button below and fill out the form by Sunday, May 17, if you’d like to be entered in the drawing. Note that this giveaway is only open to subscribers, so if you haven’t yet subscribed, make sure to do so first (subscribing comes with a couple other perks too!).

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Thanks for reading—and happy Mother’s Day! Until next time—

Holly

1. Again, this was originally published in the spring of 2025. It’s been four years now!