“I praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made.” Psalm 139:14
For most of my life, I assumed everyone experienced the world the way I do—through layers of color, texture, emotion, and meaning. I honestly thought everyone felt textures when they looked at them and had strong emotions tied to numbers. It wasn’t until recently that I learned this is actually a rare gift God wove into my mind.
It helped me understand why I create, teach, and sense life the way I do. By opening a small window into how my mind works, I hope you'll be encouraged to value the way your mind works too. God weaves every one of us differently, and those differences—yours and mine—are part of His beautiful design.
When the Senses Blend
When I look at textures, I don't just see them…I feel them. My mind blends sight with sensation, so patterns stir warmth, calm, depth, or meaning inside me. A honeycomb doesn't just look geometric—it hums with order and purpose. Tree bark feels ancient and protective. Brick patterns ground me, their rhythm speaking of foundation and home. Most people don't experience textures this way, but God quietly wired my brain with these cross-connections.
The letter A is red. Not metaphorically red, not "reminds me of" red—it simply is red, the way the sky is blue. B feels sturdy and brown, like a bear. The number 7 carries holiness, completeness, a golden morning feeling. But 13 doesn't frighten me the way it frightens others; to me it feels restless, like wind before a storm. I didn't choose these associations. They simply exist, woven into how I perceive reality.
Words arrive in my mind wrapped in color moods. Some feel warm and inviting. Others feel sharp or cold, no matter what they mean. My alphabet feels alive, full of personality—each letter a small character playing its part in the stories I read and write.
The Gift and the Challenge
I also don't process language in a straight line. My mind works in layers—pictures, emotions, textures—so reading letters on a page has always been hard for me. I'm dyslexic, and I thank God for the proofreaders who help me bring my books to life.
Synesthesia shows up more often in dyslexic individuals because their senses and thinking pathways are more connected.
Dyslexia didn't "cause" the synesthesia; they're simply two branches growing from the same brain God gave me. For years, I was frustrated and embarrassed, by how differently I processed words. But now I see it clearly: the same wiring that makes reading difficult also makes creation rich. The textures that inspire my art, the symbolic thinking that shapes my teaching, the layered way I journal, see symbolism, and design; all of it flows from this beautifully tangled mind.
How It Shapes Everything
My memories don't file themselves by date or event—they arrive as color first, story second. Childhood carries one palette: soft yellows, warm browns, the feeling of sun through curtains. My teen years pulse with different blue hues—deeper, moodier, like twilight. Adulthood has settled into its own atmosphere, and when I close my eyes and think back, the colors come before the faces.
Scripture feels alive to me through imagery. When I read about living water or the valley of the shadow, I don't just understand the metaphor: I see it, feel its texture. Colors help me understand truth. Patterns remind me of God's order. All of creation speaks to me symbolically, like a language written in light and shadow and shape.
This is how ideas come to me too. I think in pictures before words. Abstract concepts turn into images instantly. A teaching point becomes a visual analogy. A spiritual truth layers itself like a collage in my mind. Patterns inspire ideas. Textures give me lessons. My creativity doesn't start with an outline: it starts with sensation.
Living in a Richer World
In daily life, this means certain things feel immediately right or wrong, and I can't always explain why. A font choice might unsettle me. A color or number combination might bring unexpected peace or a feeling of urgency. I react instantly to visual details others barely notice, and my brain forms connections: spiritual, emotional, creative, that seem to come from nowhere.
The world feels richer to me. Deeper. More textured. I don't experience it as information to process, but as beauty to feel. And while that makes some things harder—reading, organizing, explaining myself—it makes other things effortless. I see God's fingerprints everywhere because everything whispers.
I am no longer frustrated with dyslexia. I am no longer confused by why I think the way I do. I see now that this is simply how God designed me: not to make life harder, but to help me see what others might miss. To create what others might not imagine. To feel what others might overlook.
A Word to You
A Word to You
Scripture tells us, "Each of you should use whatever gift you have received to serve others, as faithful stewards of God's grace in its various forms" (1 Peter 4:10). God weaves every one of us differently—not randomly, but with intention. The way I experience color, texture, number, and word is simply how He wired me to see His world. And the way you think, feel, notice, and create? That's your wiring. Your design. Your gift to steward.
We're not all meant to process life the same way. Some of us see in layers. Some in logic. Some in sound or story or structure. But every mind—including yours—reflects something of the Creator's endless imagination. So wherever you feel different, misunderstood, or "too much," I hope this glimpse into my mind encourages you: you're not broken. You're designed. And the world needs exactly what you were made to bring—not in spite of how you think, but because of it.
