Meet Sandy

I could tell you about the art and the garden first. But to understand why creating means so much to me, you need to know something about the life that brought me here.

When I was 20 years old, my two-year-old son, Jason, was tragically killed. Losing him split my life into a before and an after. I am his mother, and I carry my love for him into every day of my life.

After Jason died, my life spiraled downhill. I lived through years of addiction and a horribly abusive relationship. Eventually, my addiction led to a drug-related conviction, and I spent 7 years, 7 months, and 7 days in a Nevada women’s prison. I thank God no one was killed because of my actions. I know addiction has consequences far beyond a prison sentence, and I take responsibility for mine.

In the years since, I’ve spent more than 30 years working in prisoner reentry and recovery. I know how much it matters for someone to be seen as more than the worst chapter of their life. I’ve watched people find their footing, stumble, begin again, and discover that they still have something to offer the world.

When I came home from prison, I spent another 23 years on parole before my sentence was finally commuted. For a long time, it felt as though those years might be the only part of my story the world would ever see. But prison was only one chapter. I was still Jason’s mother. I was still a person worth saving. And even when I couldn’t see it myself, my story wasn’t finished.

There are things you don’t “get over.” You learn to carry them differently. You make room for grief, and then one day you find yourself laughing. You may feel guilty for a moment, until you realize that finding joy again does not mean you miss your child any less.

I began creating because I needed somewhere to put what I couldn’t always say. A little color. A handful of soil. A sentence on a page. None of it erased what happened. It helped me find my way back to my hands, my voice, and the possibility of making something beautiful with the life still in front of me.

My past is part of my story. I get to keep writing the rest. ♡

After losing Jason, I didn’t know what motherhood would look like in the years ahead. I only knew that I would always be his mother. Love doesn’t end when a life does.

Then God brought my girls into my life when they were three and four years old. Later, my son came to me when he was eleven. They arrived with their own stories, their own personalities, and their own ways of seeing the world. Getting to know each of them has been one of the great gifts of my life.

They didn’t grow under my heart. They grew in it.

They didn’t come into my life to fill the space Jason left. No one could. My heart made room for them alongside my love for him. It turns out a heart can hold more than I ever thought possible: grief and gratitude, memory and new beginnings, all at once.

Being their mother has given me moments I never could have planned for—the ordinary, beautiful ones as much as the big ones. They have taught me, challenged me, made me laugh, and given me more reasons to keep growing. I hope they know how much I love them, exactly as they are.

Jason will always be my son. And these three are my beautiful gifts from God. I am so grateful I get to call them mine. ♡

 On November 10, 1996, I stopped drinking and using drugs. As of September 24, 2026, that’s 10,910 days without a drink or a drug.

I’m proud of those days. I also know that putting down the drink and the drugs didn’t magically heal everything that led me to them. I still had grief to face, harm to take responsibility for, and a life to learn how to live without numbing the hard parts.

Recovery has been the daily work of getting honest with myself. It has meant asking for help, making amends where I could, and learning to sit with feelings I once wanted to escape. Some days I’ve done that well. Other days I’ve had to take a breath, own my part, and try again.

For more than 30 years, I’ve worked in prisoner reentry, walking alongside people as they come home and begin building lives beyond the labels of their past. I don’t tell anyone that one good decision fixes everything. I know how much courage it takes to make another good decision tomorrow.

So when I talk about incarceration, addiction, recovery, grief, second chances, rebuilding, and becoming, I’m speaking from a life still in progress.

I’ve lived these things. I’m still learning from them.

I’m a work in progress. After 10,910 days, I hope I always will be. ♡

I believe we were created to create. I don’t mean we all have to paint a masterpiece or make something beautiful enough to sell. I mean there is something in us that wants to take what life gives us and say, What can I make of this?

For me, sometimes it looks like paint and colored pencils scattered across the table. Sometimes it’s flowers I planted with dirt under my fingernails and no guarantee they’ll bloom. Sometimes it’s a sentence that comes straight from my heart and surprises me when I read it back. And sometimes it’s blue hair because I looked in the mirror and decided the day could use a little more color.

Creating gives me a place to be curious, to play, and to make a mess. I don’t always know what I’m doing when I begin. I’ve made things I loved and plenty of things that looked nothing like the picture in my head. I’ve learned to keep going anyway. A flower doesn’t apologize for taking its time to grow, and I’m trying to give myself the same grace.

The most meaningful things I’ve created can’t be held in my hands. A life in recovery. A home where love has room to grow. The courage to tell the truth about my story. A way of being that leaves more room for kindness, laughter, and the people I love. Those things took time. They’re still taking time.

That’s what Soul Sista Creations means to me. It’s a place to share what I make, what I’m learning, and the little bits of wonder I find along the way. I hope something here gives you permission to pick up a pencil, plant a seed, write the words, try the color, or begin again—however beginning looks for you.

There is still beauty left to make. I’m going to keep making mine with both hands, a little dirt on my shoes, and music playing somewhere in the background.

We were created to create. ♡

• I love art, gardens, words, color, faith, laughter, and people with stories to tell. Give me a table full of paint, a patch of dirt, or a good conversation, and I’ll probably lose track of time.

• I believe there is something sacred about sitting across from another person and truly seeing them. Sometimes the kindest thing we can offer is our full attention.

• I believe every person is more than the worst thing they’ve ever done. Accountability matters. So does the chance to grow beyond it.

• I believe grief and gratitude can live in the same heart. Loving the life I have does not diminish my love for the people I’ve lost.

• I believe healing and humor can live in the same room. I’ve cried hard, laughed at the wrong moment, and thanked God for the laughter anyway.

• I believe recovery is about far more than putting down a drink or a drug. It’s the ongoing work of telling the truth, making amends, asking for help, and learning how to live with an open heart.

• I believe in setting boundaries. When a situation causes me harm or no longer feels right for me, I’m allowed to walk away. I don’t have to justify protecting my peace.

• I believe we are where we are meant to be at this stage of our journey, even when I don’t like where I am. Acceptance doesn’t mean I have to call a hard season good or stay there forever. It means I can stop fighting the fact that I’m here, take a breath, and choose my next step.

• I believe God meets us in ordinary places—in a garden, in a conversation, in the quiet moment when we find the strength to try again.

• I believe a little irreverence is good for the soul. Faith, to me, has room for questions, messy people, and a really good laugh.

• And I believe that no matter how many birthdays we’ve had, we’re still allowed to change our minds, change our hair, learn something new, make a glorious mess, and become somebody we haven’t met yet.

I’m still becoming. And I’m grateful God isn’t finished with me. ♡

Soul Sista Creations isn’t about being a perfect artist. And it certainly isn’t about having a perfectly put-together life.

It’s about creating anyway.

Making the art. Planting the flowers. Writing the words. Laughing loudly. Loving deeply. Remembering the people we carry with us. Giving ourselves some grace. And having the courage to keep becoming.

Because after everything life has taught me, there is one thing I know for sure: As long as we’re still here, the story isn’t finished.

I’m glad you found your way here.

Welcome, Soul Sista. ♡