A Year of Making Things 2025

Dear Reader,

Please join me for a look back at what I made in 2025. I hope it will inspire you to take a second look at what you made this year, too. I promise that even if you don’t call yourself an artist, you have something to add to this list.

My hope is that together we can create a Celebration of Making Things!

I’ll go first. At the end, I’d love to hear about something you made this year, too.

For at least part of this year my oldest daughter and I would meet for art dates at a coffee shop. At the time I didn’t know she would be moving eight hours away but her apartment is stacked with boxes as I write this. It makes the creative time we spent together even more meaningful.

This was an accidental discovery. I picked up a journal from a thrift shop and it had several types of paper in it, including unlined tan paper. After trying a few sketches on it I ordered a square sketchbook of toned paper and I was hooked. The Posca markers pop off the page and the contrast of black and white on the paper produced a little thrill each time I put pen to paper.

January of this year found me in the midst of a huge creative shift (more on that in a minute). I spent a lot of time at coffee shops working on lesson plans and production details for my theater class. But I also made a point of pulling out my sketchbook for a few minutes and it grounded me, helping me breathe a little more deeply and slowly.

I published my first Good and Beautiful Things newsletter in December of 2022. I started it as a container for my writing and art, trusting that it would find the people who enjoyed the things I shared. I also hoped it would make others feel less alone and maybe even inspire readers to go make something.

As of today, I’ve published 112 posts. My output has slowed down over the last year and a half as I’ve added teaching/directing theater back into my life but I still feel like I’m supposed to be here, doing what I do.

(I wrote about why I started this newsletter and about the decision to stick with it, here.)

I can’t help it, my go-to subject is birds, always birds. And the joy of cutting up bits and pieces that stick to my fingers while I work…Let’s go!

Out of all of my creative passions, theater is my biggest, oldest and dearest. I went to a performing arts high school for theater and graduated from college with a Bachelor’s in theater (plus I could tell you the one line I had in my fifth grade play).

It’s also the creative area of my life that God has been the most specific with his “yeses” and “nos”. And there have been a lot of “nos” in the last five years. To the point that I’d been wondering if theater was a part of my past but not meant to be a part of my future. So in 2024, when a theater job was basically dropped into my lap, I saw it as a clear yes from God.

But I was also s-c-a-r-e-d. I’d only ever taught theater to kids I knew, I’d always taught out of my home and worked for myself. Our family had been banged up quite a bit by community in the Covid years and I was wary of…people. By giving this job a go and entering into a community to do something I cared about deeply, I was kind of like a battered dog trying out a new adoption home.

It turns out that I couldn’t have found a more gentle, encouraging place to land. “Abundance,” my friend said as I told her a few of the stories of the kindness and support I’ve received from these women where I teach.

After long years of waiting. After saying yes despite my fears, the Lord led me right into abundance.

(I wrote more about choosing an uncomfortable path that requires courage: here, here, and here.)

By March I was deeply embedded in our spring production. At first I lamented the time I no longer had for sketching and writing. I found it helped to think of directing a play as art that was on a stage instead of in my sketchbook. I was designing costumes, sets, and music as well as directing the kids in rehearsal.

At the same time I had the opportunity to work with my oldest daughter as she designed background panels that would be projected for our show. She exceeded all of my expectations and her artistry really impacted the look of the production.

Around midyear it really hit me that one of the things that brings me deep joy is to make space for other people to create. In the fall, I planned some monthly gatherings to do just that with the help of my daughters. The size of the gatherings varied but each time I was delighted to see the women being creative, something that most of them wouldn’t (or couldn’t) make time for on their own.

(I wrote more about making space for others to create, here.)

Two years ago I started a Line a Day Journal. If you aren’t familiar with the format, each page contains space for writing on the same date across five years. It works for me because it’s only a few lines to fill in each night before bed.

Since this was my second year writing in the journal, I could look back and see what happened on that same day the year before. As I geared up for teaching again this fall and as I approach year two of directing a class production, I have my own words as a witness, a comfort, and encouragement.

“Looking at the entry above and reflecting on how clearly God showed me that teaching this drama class was my next step. That has brought me comfort when I’m feeling over my head or doubting myself.” (August, 2024)

“Today I told Matt that directing this production feels like giving birth and I will have to forget the pain to do it again next year.” (March, 2025)

“Four days until the production. Thankful to see/sense that I’m doing something I’m meant to do. That there is a whole person inside of me that disappears when theater is not in my life.” (April, 2025)

‘We did the show. I honestly don’t know if it could have been more successful. It hasn’t really sunk in.” (April, 2025)

(I wrote more about this type of journaling here.)

This Christmas I tried printing my art onto canvas bags and easel calendars, along with the puzzles that I’ve experimented with the last few years. And the recipients seemed quite happy with the gifts.

My favorite moment might have been giving a bag with my pigeon collage to my daughter who is moving to Chicago. The collage was made with bits of things from a trip we took with her to Chicago a few months ago. She seemed really happy when she opened it on Christmas Day, “this is so ‘Chicago’,” she said.

I gifted myself the other bag I’d ordered and I get a little thrill when I carry it around. If someone asks what kind of art I make, I can hold up the bag and say, “this kind!”

(You can read more about printing these items, here.)

When I look back at the quotes that I collected this year, there’s a common theme: to lean into the things that you love and you will become more of who you were meant to be.

In my experience as a Christian, the church can be discouraging about listening to your heart and embracing your “you-ness”. I love what my friend Shannon has to say about this:

“For years I had the impression that what God most wanted was for me to change into someone else. I don’t believe that any more. Does God long for me to change? Sure. But I believe what God wants is for me to become more fully myself - not someone else.”

-Shannon Truss

This year I’ve paid attention to the thoughts, ideas, and longings that make me different from others and I’ve taken them as I sign that when I follow them I’m heading in the right direction.

I’ve paid attention to the itch in my fingers to make a collage.

I’ve paid attention to the need to put words on a page.

I’ve noticed how I stay in my body when I’m teaching theater. (Instead of floating outside of it to watch myself with a critical eye.)

At age forty-eight it’s high time to listen to Oscar Wilde:

“Be yourself, everyone else is already taken.”

or E.E. Cummings:

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

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Thanks for tracking with me through these reflections. And thanks for being a reader of Good and Beautiful Things, whether it’s been for one week, one month, or three years!

Now it’s your turn. Click the comment button and share something you made this year!

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A post about end-of-year reflections:

A Year of Making Things 2023:

May you find space for beauty and art in the New Year!

Aimee