The Bluefield House

“I'm going to make everything around me beautiful—that will be my life.” —Elsie de Wolf

I remember seeing this quote for the first time at sixteen, scrolling Pinterest in my high school library. Something in me lit up: Yes, I breathed, that is my purpose, too.

My creativity and my longing for beauty are what keep me alive and when I neglect them, my spirit begins to dim. As a mom with young children, it’s easy to do. So here, I honor both: the yearning for beauty and the acceptance of limits. 

My life, like so many others, has known both beauty and ache. Some of my earliest memories are shadows I couldn’t see for years. Things I now understand reached across time and shaped every facet of my life. Until I remembered. 

Remembering and healing have taught me what it really means to bring light to darkness, and joy into dim places. I’ve learned surrender, and how to be vulnerable enough to truly be seen, and held, just as I am. 

This space was born from that journey. A dream I’ve held as long as I can remember, now being shaped by my experiences. Here I’ve created a place for the honest and the beautiful, the raw and the redeemed. For the wrestlings of motherhood, womanhood, faith, and home. Not for poised perfection, nor for resignation to chaos; but for the tender tension that lives between the two.

Here, I will explore the marriage of opposites: the pull between what we imagine and what is real; between perfection and humanity; between resting in grace and reaching for excellence.

Each day, I’m learning to surrender my best-laid plans to the unfolding of real life, and to God’s will. For too long, I lived in extremes, swinging between high performance and quiet apathy. Now, I’m learning the art of balance: of holding my ideals while still being gentle with myself when the day goes differently than I hoped.

I long to craft a home that is beautiful and peaceful. Yet with early mornings, long days, and little sleep, I have to remind myself that my family needs my calm far more than my perfection. Some days that means letting the mess wait so I can rest; other days it means rallying my tired bones to create a little more order for tomorrow. 

I believe homemaking is memory-making, that rhythms can root us, and that faith can steady us.

This space isn’t about arriving, but about living fully—honestly, presently, and open-heartedly—while still reaching toward what is good, true, and beautiful. It is my love letter to the divine. 

If you find yourself caught in these same tensions, this space is for you, too. Together, we can restore our homes and shape the world within our walls. Mothers rule the world. When we guard our hearts, order our homes, and live with grace, we gift something lasting to generations to come.

So come as you are. Stand tall in your motherhood. Embrace the quiet power of your daily work. Believe—deeply—that the way you create life within your walls is a world-shaping force. 

And may this space remind you that even in mess and ache, beauty can still be made.