This week, there’s been a lot on my mind. I could write about my grandpa and how, as a child, I would watch him craft ships in a bottle, completely mesmerized by the magic of it all.

I never figured out how he did it — his hands steady, his mind focused, creating something so intricate in such a confined space. It seemed impossible.

Or, I could share the rollercoaster of parenting a teenager, like my 16-year-old son, who has decided not to speak to his father and me because we dared to enforce the rules he agreed to. Parenting. It’s not for the faint of heart, is it?

But this week, what keeps resurfacing in my thoughts is my visit to the Butler Art Museum.

I went to support a friend whose artwork was being displayed there, a moment so well-deserved and perfectly presented.

The Butler holds a special place in our community. It’s one of the first museums dedicated exclusively to the preservation of American art. How extraordinary is it that we have this cultural gem right here, offering a connection to history, creativity and talent any time we want?

My friend, whose name I’ll keep private to save her from blushing, is an extraordinary artist. She is one of those rare people whose talent is undeniable and whose journey is relatable.

Like so many of us, she once set aside her passions to focus on the logical, the necessary, the things we all must do to simply exist.

Responsibilities pile up — whether we’re moms, dads, or neither — and somewhere along the way our passions often get edited out of the picture.

But then, there comes a moment when we pick up that discarded piece, dust it off and realize it belongs in our story. We need it in our story.

That’s exactly what she did. She started refurbishing discarded purses, transforming them into something loved, admired and wanted again.

From there, she deep-dived into her creativity, crafting extraordinary pieces that I truly believe belong not just at the Butler but at the Museum of Modern Art in New York City. Her work is thought-provoking and beautifully crafted.

I remember looking at one of her collections and thinking I had deciphered its meaning perfectly. I waited for her to confirm that I had nailed it. Instead, she smiled and said, “I don’t like to tell anyone what to think of my art. It means something to them and how they interpret it.”

That conversation, along with her art, stayed with me. It’s why my husband, friend and I ventured downtown on a bitterly cold Sunday to support her and to experience what turned out to be an inspiring day.

Not only did I get to see her incredible piece, but I was also captivated by the visiting collection “The Audacity of the Mundane” by Charlee Brodsky (which will be in town until March 2).

I’ve been feverishly searching for copies of her prints to display in my office, so I can look at them every day since that day.

And I was blown away by the works of our very own local artists — paintings, watercolors and ballpoint pen drawings so precise they looked like photographs — and photographs so vivid they felt like paintings. It was empowering and inspiring to witness such immense talent in our hometown.

It’s easy to overlook what’s right in front of us, but moments like these remind me of the blessings we have — others’ stories, their talents and the buildings that house them.

So, from me to you: Take the time to rediscover the beauty and brilliance around you.

Whether it’s a museum, a conversation, or an old passion you’ve set aside, you might be surprised at what you find.

Mother, author, entrepreneur and founder of Dandelion-Inc, Lisa Resnick wants to hear your story. Share memories with her by emailing lisa@dandelion-inc.com.