A Christmas We’ll Never Forget

There are some Christmases that unfold exactly as planned — quiet, cozy, predictable in the best way.

And then there are the ones that rewrite the script entirely.

This was one of those years.

As December drew to a close, I found myself reflecting on how much this journey — both in art and in life — has been shaped by faith, family, and the people who walk alongside us. This season felt like a gentle invitation to pause, to look back, and to notice the sacred threads woven through moments that didn’t always look holy at first glance.

It reminded me again why I paint:

to honor memory, love, and meaning — even when the path there feels uncertain.

A Delivery Just in Time

Just before Christmas, I had the honor of delivering two deeply meaningful commissioned paintings for Tim Tebow and his family. These were pieces created with prayer, intention, and great care — works meant to hold legacy, story, and love.

We had hoped to capture in-person photos of the delivery, but that part didn’t unfold as planned. Still, the paintings arrived exactly when they were meant to — just in time for Christmas. 

It was a quiet reminder that not every sacred moment needs documentation. Sometimes obedience matters more than the photograph. And sometimes the most meaningful deliveries happen far from the spotlight.

The Christmas Eve That Changed Everything

What followed those deliveries is a Christmas Eve our family will never forget.

It began calmly. Confidently. Foolproof, even.

(This, of course, was our first mistake.)

Christmas Eve Eve

Late that night, two paintings were finally finished. We loaded up the RV and headed toward Florida, full of relief and gratitude — blissfully unaware that fate, grace, and a very sneaky dog were about to take the wheel.

Christmas Eve

Somewhere at a rest stop in Georgia, our dog Java made a flawless escape. No witnesses. No warning. One moment she was there — and the next, she wasn’t.

By the time we realized she was gone, panic had settled in. Tears followed. Calm voices attempted to mask internal fear as we crossed state lines knowing our family was suddenly incomplete.

Still, the paintings had to be delivered. And so we pressed on — filming quiet videos while a precious baby slept, our hearts present in body only.

Not long after, we made the decision to turn around and drive three hours back toward where Java disappeared. Phones buzzed endlessly. Calls went out to police, highway patrol, animal control — anyone who might help.

As night fell, hope felt thin. We received word that a dog matching Java’s description had been seen — and then bolted into the woods.

And then, in the moment when exhaustion and despair were pressing in, everything changed.

We pulled off at a rest stop exit.

I looked out and said the words every pet owner longs to say:

“There she is.”

Java crossed the exit ramp like she owned the place.

Moments later, she bolted again — because of course she did. But this time, our girls ran after her. Calling her name. And this time, she stopped.

They recognized each other.

They ran together.

Tears fell freely — the kind that come from relief, gratitude, and the knowing that something precious has been returned.

By the end of the night, we were gathered together again — watching It’s a Wonderful Life, eating popcorn without butter, and thanking Jesus for grace upon grace.

Christmas morning found us at a rest stop in the middle of Georgia. Not the Christmas we planned — but one we’ll treasure forever.

Lessons From a Highway Christmas

Sometimes obedience looks like a manger.

Sometimes it looks like a highway.

Sometimes it looks like trusting God when the plan falls apart.

But every yes still leads us back to Love.

This Christmas reminded me that the sacred often hides inside the unexpected. That family, faith, and purpose don’t require perfect circumstances — only presence.

Looking Ahead

As we step into a new year, I’m carrying these moments with me into the studio. Into the quiet hours of creating. Into every brushstroke meant to honor story and legacy.

If this season taught me anything, it’s that the most meaningful work — in art and in life — is created when we show up fully, trust deeply, and leave room for grace.

Thank you for being here.

Thank you for walking this journey with me.

With gratitude and love,

Shen