I began writing poems and stories at the age of seven. I remember that my mother was fairly impressed, so I told her that I wanted to be a writer when I grew up. It made sense to me, because I seemed to have the proverbial knack for it, and not one to try something that I wasn’t good at, I proclaimed to myself and anyone else who was interested, that I was going to major in English, and be a writer one day.
But…I didn’t. Well…I did major in English, but that lasted about two years, when I discovered that the only way I could make a living with an English degree was if I had the letters PhD after it. So, I settled down as an Elementary Language Arts Teacher. I loved it, I really did…but I always felt as if there was something else I needed to be doing.
I was still writing, of course…still believing that if I if I just worked hard enough putting pen to paper, or fingers to keyboard I would find my niche at last. And, while I admit that I have a sincere, almost devout view of the written word, I never found myself completely satisfied with the work of my hands…
But…I do not refer to writing (although it will always be a dear friend). I refer, instead, to my discovery of the art and science, of making soap, and the quiet sensibility of herbal medicine. I was always fascinated by the idea that God thoughtfully provided healing remedies housed within His creation, to help us, and heal us.
I came across the science of soap-making quite by accident. My husband read an article about making soap, and tried it. I remember watching him from afar, hesitant to become involved, but a seed had been planted (if you will pardon the idiom), and I found myself writing herbal recipes to use in hand made soaps. One thing lead to another…and a devotion to the soap making was born.
Truth: I love the art and science of making soaps, and lotions, growing herbs, and creating beautiful and therapeutic formulas. I have found my place at last. I am a chemist. I am an herbalist. I am a soap crafter. I am home.