My mom was an artist. To be more exact, she was a “name artist.”

People didn’t know her as an “artist,” but she was an artist just the same. Merriam-Webster’s Dictionary says an artist is, “one who professes and practices an imaginative art, a person skilled in one of the fine arts and one who is adept at something.” My mom fit the bill in all three of these scenarios.

Although she had the skill, Mom never became a painter, due to an incident that occurred when I was 5 years old.

Mom took an art class. This particular art class focused on drawing the human figure. Models were brought in for the students to sketch and—gasp!—disrobed so the human figure could be viewed in all of its glory.

I have no idea how this affected Mom while she was in class doing the drawings, but years later she shared with me how it affected her at home.

Apparently, I discovered Mom’s art class drawings. Being a typical, curious five-year-old, I asked questions about the human anatomy. Mom wasn’t quite prepared to answer those kinds of questions.

Mom was a preacher’s wife and a preschool teacher. The  possibility of her little girl innocently discussing “Mommy’s special drawings,” in public, was too much for her. That was the end of Mom’s art class.

Many people would call my mom’s art, “crafts.” Knitting, sewing, leatherwork, and calligraphy were some of the predominant channels of her creativity. Her projects were varied and always done with someone in mind.

You see, Mom’s art was as much about her love for people as it was for being creative. She gave her art away all the time, without any expectations to reciprocate the gift. The fact that people were truly surprised they had been noticed and appreciated brought her great pleasure.

When Mom retired she started a little business she called “Soul Windows.”

She didn’t seem to make any money from her little business, I’m not sure why she even called it a business.

Soul Windows was about people. Mom would use her calligraphy to write a person’s name, the meaning of their name, and a Bible verse to go with it. She would do this on parchment paper, put it in a frame and give it to the person as a gift.

When we went out to eat, Mom would find out the names of anyone who waited on us.

She’d always ask the person about the correct spelling of their name, making it a part of the conversation. The next time we went to the restaurant, she would be ready with their framed works of art and surprise them with their gift. She literally became a name artist.

Mom extended her “Soul Windows” blessing to people at stores, gas stations, the beauty salon, the bank — you name it, if she’d been there, everyone in the place would get their own personal “Soul Window.” She penned hundreds of names. “Soul Windows” truly touched people and really did, impact their souls.

As a name artist, I believe my mom was speaking into people’s lives prophetically when she gave them the meaning of their name.

But one who prophesies speaks to men for edification and exhortation and consolation. (1 Corinthians 14:3). She always made sure the meaning she penned of a person’s name was encouraging. Mom, literally, spoke into the identity of every person she calligraphed a name for. Some of the gruffest people softened when my mom was around because their hearts had been touched by her gift.

As you may have gathered, my mom isn’t around anymore.

She went to be with Jesus in 2011. She was here one day and gone the next, leaving behind a house full of creative materials and hundreds of people who truly missed her presence.

Not surprisingly, the things I have kept of Mom’s, are products of her art, gifted to me or others, who are gone now, as well.

One of her few paintings dons a rock, a paperweight, gifted to my grandmother and inscribed on the back. The painted rock sits on the shelf in my bedroom window. I also have a cozy, warm poncho she knitted for me, an afghan she crocheted, and of course, my own “Soul Window.”

There were over 300 people at Mom’s memorial service, a testimony and celebration of her life, her love for Jesus, and her kindness as she shared and lived what she believed every day, every place she went. Every one of them with their own “Soul Window.” All of them touched or changed by Mom’s art, that she gave away.

I believe everyone was created with their own gifts.

Many of us have been led to believe we aren’t talented or creative. Our gifts don’t always look like art but we’re all capable of learning and developing our skills. And we’re all capable of choosing to share it with others.

Cook for someone, write someone an encouraging note. Maybe your gift is listening. Buy someone a cup of coffee, listen to them and tell them what you appreciate about them. It really doesn’t have to take much effort for you to be a human “Soul Window.”

How about you?

• What is your gift?
• Do you share your gift with others?
• How do you encourage and enrich the lives of the people around you?
• Have you done anything to encourage someone today?

A good name is better than a good ointment. And the day of one’s death is better than the day of one’s birth. Ecclesiastes 7:1