Reflections on Growth, Grace, and the Unexpected Ways Art Becomes a Lifeline.

After sharing my last reflection on staying strong through life’s storms, [Part I: “Where Strength Is Forged in the Fire”], a young woman I once mentored reached out with a message that moved me to tears. Her words reminded me that the lessons we learn in struggle don’t stop with us — they ripple outward, shaping others in ways we might never see. This follow-up is a story about that ripple — about growth, grace, and the kind of strength that’s born when love and faith meet pain and creation.

Part II

There’s a beauty that comes with time — not just in the lines that form on our faces or the silver that weaves through our hair, but in the wisdom that can only come from having lived through both the breaking and the mending.

A few weeks ago, a young woman I once mentored wrote to me. Her message stirred something deep within me. She spoke of growth — of resistance that turned into revelation, of pain that became her teacher, and of finally finding self-love after walking through the loneliest parts of her own story.

She wrote:

“It was hard at first… I hated how much you showed me I needed to grow. I rebelled. I didn’t want to believe I could be strong or independent or free. But years later, I realized I am everything I need.”

Those words hit me hard. Maybe because I saw myself in them.

"In the quiet of my old studio — the one I built and later lost — the Aisha Neckpiece was born. This was the prayer, the turning point, the moment leather became my lifeline."

I remember being that young woman — full of spirit, full of fight, pushing back against the advice of those who had walked the road before me. I thought I knew better. (Spoiler alert: I didn’t.) Now, at 61, I often catch myself murmuring at social media posts, shaking my head at the things we all have to learn the long way. It’s not judgment; it’s recognition. Experience teaches us that what feels like truth today may evolve into something richer, deeper, and softer tomorrow.

Even now, I know that when I’m 80, I’ll look back at this version of myself and smile, thinking, “What were you thinking, dear?”

Life has a way of humbling us into wisdom.
We all suffer. We all fall. Some stay there because it feels safe; others rise and keep moving. And a few take the fragments of their pain and turn them into something beautiful — something that tells a story, something that heals.

That’s what my leather art became for me.

It was in connection, in trust, that the Aisha piece found its wings.

"The Aisha Neckpiece — a symbol of strength, worn by two souls who helped remind me of the beauty of connection during a season of loss. The design bridges my past and my purpose."

Each cut, each stitch, each piece I’ve created over the years was a prayer — sometimes whispered, sometimes cried out loud. Working with my hands became a form of survival, a rhythm of healing. The raw hide in front of me often mirrored the rawness inside me: tough yet pliable, scarred yet full of potential.

When I was shaping leather, I was also shaping myself.

Wandering the dunes on Plum Island, she carried my designs into nature’s light

Through that process, I came to understand the same truth my young friend just discovered — that love is the only thing of true value. And not just the love we give, but the love we allow ourselves to receive. The unconditional kind that flows through us when we finally stop trying to earn it.

To that young woman, and to anyone reading this who is in the middle of their own breaking and mending — know this:
You are everything you need.
The story isn’t over. It’s just being tooled, piece by piece, into something extraordinary.

If this story resonates with you, I’d love to hear your thoughts or your own journey of resilience in the comments below.

🖤
Lisa Maria Cantalupo
“Where Leather Meets Lineage”