On Becoming a Designer

I’m the first to admit the term “leap of faith” is over-done. Particularly following a pandemic in which people were confronted with their depressed, burnt-out selves in the mirror. It forced many of us to change, be it through unexpected unemployment or a decision. A leap-of-faith.

While you could categorize my leap as one of faith, it was more of an overdue come-to-Jesus with myself.

I had been working in Property Management, climbing the corporate ladder since before I’d even graduated college. I took pride in my workaholic tendencies and would bend over backwards for a boss who didn’t give a damn about me. (Any Millennial reading this can relate. I see you, I hear you, you are not alone). 

For me, the end was nearing regardless of the pandemic. At my wits end and a day before my 26th birthday, I dropped the mic on that part of my life. No plan, no contingency, just survival mode. Two days later, I walked into a flower shop in Seattle Washington, asked for a job, and the stars aligned.

But it didn’t start there…

As Midwesterners know, your skills are your gift from God to the world, and your way of giving to others. Sharing these talents was as important as having them in the first place, and there was no shortage of sharing in my family.

My Aunt held a degree in botany, a green thumb, and an eye for tasteful extravagance in her work. On the hot summer days where I would otherwise be left unattended, she shared with me, paradise on earth. Rows upon rows of seedlings in greenhouses, earthy soil and wetness filled your nose and plants cascaded from hanging baskets. Luscious and muggy in the Midwest Summer heat. Gentle ringing of windchimes, disturbed by shoppers by or the cross breeze of an open air corridor. And best of all, the cooler, brimming with fresh flowers in vibrant pinks and purples and whites. Long stem roses as tall as I was, delphinium and chrysanthemums and carnations, crammed in buckets of cloudy water and closed tight against the chill.

Here is where I fell in love with floral design. Watching her hands work wires and place flowers with meticulous detail. Admiring her as she moved without fear of judgment, channeling some invisible plan that only she could see. And finally, the awe and joy of customers picking up their arrangements, stunned and thrilled to receive a piece of art, created by talented hands with only them in mind. 

It seems simple, and it was. Just like that, I was working among the beauties of life. I wasn’t making hardly any money, but that didn’t matter. I was home. Home among the plants, the pretty pots, the funny cards and local art. Most of all, I was home among the sweet, sweet smell of flowers.

It seems simple, and it was. Just like that, I was working among the beauties of life. I wasn’t making hardly any money, but that didn’t matter. I was home. Home among the plants, the pretty pots, the funny cards and local art. Most of all, I was home among the sweet, sweet smell of flowers.