The Birth Of The Project

An Unexpected Calling

As a lifelong artist, I never expected my self-taught work to grow beyond a personal hobby. I’ve always been drawn to representational realism—a style rooted in truth and craftsmanship—even as the modern art world increasingly embraced abstraction. For years, I believed there was no place for someone like me. But God clearly had other plans.

In late 2021, what seemed like a small coincidence began a chain reaction I could never have anticipated.

That October, I created a drawing as a birthday gift for my husband. Just for fun, I decided to join a small holiday craft show in Twin Falls, Idaho the following month. Among the trinkets at my modest little booth, I included that drawing—trimmed to fit a cheap frame and tucked away on the bottom shelf.

I priced it at $80 (it would later become my first high-ticket sale at $600). Though it didn’t sell that day, it drew surprising attention. And I left the event with a question I’d never considered before:

Could my self-taught, no-name artwork actually have a place in the 21st-century art world?

Open Doors

Learning the Trade

Within a month, I had created five companion pieces and printed my first set of art prints. With those in hand and a small pop-up table, I attended another holiday fair in December 2021—and officially sold my first piece of artwork.

The response was incredibly encouraging. So I pressed forward with intention.

Over the next two years, I was accepted into more than 50 local and regional shows—including several that were nationally ranked. I won first place in drawing at one of the largest art competitions in the Northwest, and my work was featured in four Twin Falls galleries.

Every step of the way, I could sense the unmistakable hand of God—opening doors I never could have opened on my own.

In the Waiting

Seeking Him in the Silence

In early 2024, my husband Casey and I made the bold decision to move our family of five to the Kansas City, Missouri area. I fully believed that God would continue opening doors for my artwork there, too.

But the reality was much harder than I imagined.

Doors that had once flown open now slammed shut. Event applications were rejected. Emails to partners went unanswered. After so much encouragement out West, I was suddenly met with silence.

I started to wonder: Am I still on the path God intended for me?

After a year of striving and waiting, I asked God for a clear sign. I had discovered a gallery in Tennessee that seemed like the perfect fit, and submitted an application in early January 2025. I told the Lord, “If this doesn’t work out, I’ll lay the dream down. Show me what You want.”

At the same time, our church in Harrisonville was in the middle of a sermon series about what our pastor called “dangerous prayers”: Search me. Break me. Use me. Send me. During the second week, he invited us to fast and pray. I joined in, and that very week, I received not only the gallery rejection—but also a final “no” from the last local event I’d pinned hopes on.

Though disappointed, I believed God had answered. I didn’t feel clarity—only silence—but I stayed open.

Two weeks later, on the final Sunday of the series, the sermon focused on that last prayer: Send me. Our pastor said something I’ll never forget:

If God has placed something on your heart, you don’t need to keep asking whether you should follow it—the answer is already yes. The light is always green. The word is 'Go.'

Something stirred inside me. I felt a strong pull back to my lifelong passion: to restore the value of art in Western culture—to call it back to beauty, truth, and excellence. But I had no degree. No name in the industry. No formal training. Just a self-taught artist with one toe in a door that now seemed shut.

Still, I couldn’t shake it.

A Still, Small Voice

God’s Ways Are Higher

The next morning, I told Casey I needed time to pray and reflect. I grabbed my journal, my laptop, and jumped in the car. On that 20-minute drive, I prayed simply:“God, I’m here. I’m listening. Show me what I’m missing.”

In that stillness, one word came to me—over and over: Majesty.

That was it. Majesty.

When I reached the coffee shop, I opened my journal and began to write. I poured out my heart, asking for clarity. And over the next three hours, a vision unfolded. Piece by piece, it was as if God had just been waiting for me to listen.

By the time I left that coffee shop, I had:

• A rough business plan

• A domain name

• A clear sense of direction

I even knew the first organization I’d reach out to—which, incredibly, became our very first partner.

A New Beginning

The Birth of The Majesty Project

The past several months have been a whirlwind. We founded our nonprofit, built our website, contacted donors and partners, and received our federal tax-exempt status. In that same time, I’ve drawn six pieces available for donation.

There’s no question: God has been preparing The Majesty Project for a long time. He’s been raising up the people involved—equipping them and positioning them—for such a time as this.

I’m deeply humbled and honored to sit in the passenger seat as God steers the vision forward. I cannot wait to see what the next year, two years, five years hold.

Watching Him carry this mission is more than I ever could have asked, dreamed, or imagined.

But then again—Isn’t that just how our God works?