I found ceramics in one of the darkest times in my life. After my mother died when I was 14, my dad and I moved back to Santa Cruz, California. It was there that I started working with clay and trying to put the pieces together of my shattered life. This effort was often manifested by bad decisions and thinking I was not a very worthy person of any sort of love. As I began to work with clay my work often consisted of a variety of textures applied in a loose pattern that used the entire surface of the clay. This captured the praise of my fellow peers and even earned me some recognition from my instructor. The feeling of approval that followed drew me deeper into the clay, where my love for the craft rooted for real. I was drawn in by a desire to be accepted, but I stayed because I found that I didn’t need to be.

Eventually I found myself leaving the central coast of California and heading back to the desert. Here in Phoenix, where I currently live, is where I met Daisy. We met at a pottery studio, independently pursuing our mutual interest. We started talking about clay and Jesus and we’ve never looked back. We now have two boys who get to grow up with some unique parents, and get to know that they are very special young men.