When people talk about faith, they often picture mountaintop moments—big breakthroughs, miraculous signs, open doors swinging wide. But what I’ve come to know deep in my bones is that faith rarely shows up like a thunderclap. More often, it’s a whisper. A nudge. A sacred invitation to just keep showing up when nothing looks certain.
When I moved to Stillwater a year ago, I walked into Prairie Arts Center with nothing but a dream, a portfolio full of handmade paper art, and a soft-spoken boldness in my spirit. I told them I wanted to teach. Their response? “Well… we already have teachers. But what do you do exactly?”
So I laid out my work like a proud mama, every collage layered with paper, scissors, glue, and a whole lot of joy. I said, “This. I do this.”
Their response? “Oh. Nobody does this kind of paper art around here.”
Still, they gave me a chance. They let me offer my first class… and no one signed up. Not one person. And let me tell you—that kind of silence can rattle even the most hopeful heart. But I kept going. They encouraged me to stay the course. Slowly, people began to show up—two here, three there. It wasn’t about the numbers—it was about the practice of believing.
And then, this week, 15 people came to my monthly Collage + Conversations gathering at the local community art center. Fif-teen! That’s nearly double the attendance from the month before. We laughed. We played. We cut and glued. And I remembered every single name.
That night on the drive home, I realized: faith brought me here.
Not ego. Not strategy. Not luck.
Faith—the kind that works quietly behind the scenes. The kind that says,
“Just prepare the table. Even if you don’t know who’s coming.”
“Cut the paper. Someone will need it.”
“Show up like it matters—because it does.”
Faith has taught me that sacred things often start small. That momentum builds in the background while you’re doing the mundane. That success isn’t measured by how loud your start is, but by how consistently you return to what you were called to do by the Creator.
This week, I’ll be teaching 30 senior citizens how to make greeting cards and teaching another paid class on Saturday.
Then in August—and in the months that follow—I’ll begin a 4-week mixed media class where students will create two beautiful 8 x 8 pieces of art for their homes. The fruit is showing. But the roots? The roots were planted in silence.
So if you’re in a season where things feel slow, uncertain, or unseen—don’t give up.
Prepare the table anyway.
Cut the paper anyway.
Send the email.
Share your work.
Light your candle.
Because faith isn’t about everything making sense in the moment.
It’s about trusting that it will all make sense to you… in time.
With deep gratitude and joy,
Patricia Efunsade
The Joy Priestess
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