I’ve had a photograph of this quote hanging on my fridge since 2013.

The words were Sharpie marked onto a paper bag and taped to the bathroom mirror at SweetArt Bakeshop & Café, in St. Louis.

What I remember most about that café was the feeling of it. The café embodied art, imagination, nourishment. I felt it every time I walked through its doors. The sounds, the setting, the aromas—everything about the experience was inspiring and welcoming. I often felt as if I were stepping into my grandmother’s kitchen.

The experience of being there was an invitation to relish not only the collard greens and double chocolate cupcakes, but also the joyful, creative process in which owner Reine Keis crafted each one-of-a-kind menu item. When browsing the glass case to make a dessert selection, I’d see her in the back kitchen, singing and whipping up some secret batter. I’d spot her just beyond the register, artistically arranging a dozen red velvet cupcakes into a pastry box.

Having that firsthand view of her process was central to the enjoyment of my visits there. I don’t remember the tables. I barely remember the interesting names and flavors of the cupcakes. My memory is fuzzy in its attempts to recall the intersection on which the café was located, despite how well I knew every street and alley in St. Louis’s South City.

What do I remember?

Reine doing her thing. Lost in her process in the most wonderful way nearly every single time I walked into the place. Her work and her art was embedded in a spirit that honored time, practice, and love. It was a life statement for her; and she embodied it in a way that created a vision for the community, too.

I’ve kept the photographed quote in my home as a reminder that the key ingredients to growth and change are time, practice, and love—both for individuals and for the collective.

And so, it’s with this posture that I approach my work with each client.

In some ways, we’re in the kitchen together when we’re meeting. We’re discovering key ingredients in your life, looking through recipes that have failed and recipes that have become, or will become, all-time favorites. And we seek to understand the why’s and the how’s together.

In the therapeutic kitchen space, we practice basics and we dare to experiment with the artistry that is you. We look at what’s been passed down and whether we want to keep it or transform it. We build new skills and we build on strengths.

We practice, and we commit to time, and we trust both the science and the creativity of the therapeutic process.

Most importantly, we endeavor all of it with love, approaching our work together not as a concept, or a to-do, or even a self-enhancement strategy.

We move through our work together as a work of the heart, because, I believe, all change is a love-infused work of art.