God Leads Me into the Picture Book Creation Journey

號角月報加拿大版二零二五年五月

I was born in Vancouver and grew up in Ottawa, where I spent much of my childhood either exploring the forest near our neighborhood or surrounded by books and art materials that I begged my parents to buy for me. On Sundays, we went to church, and I grew up learning that I was dearly loved by God and that He created me exactly as He intended. However, understanding what that truly meant would take many years and involve numerous challenges along the way.

From Ottawa, my family and I moved to Toronto in 1990 when I was 10, then to Hong Kong in 1993, and finally to Beijing, where I finished high school. Afterward, I attended Wellesley College in Massachusetts, where I studied photography and child psychology. I loved my time in the Boston area and went on to Harvard Graduate School of Education, where I earned a Master of Arts in Education and explored ways to incorporate the arts into everyday life, such as in schools, community centers, and museums. During these years, as I learned about the arts and community empowerment, I also felt God calling me to work with underserved youth. This led me to volunteer by teaching Sunday school and Vacation Bible School at a neighborhood church.

Upon graduating, I spent the next ten years in education—first teaching preschool at a bilingual Cantonese and English school in Boston’s Chinatown (where the preschoolers helped me improve my Cantonese!), followed by working with elementary students with special needs at an arts-based charter school in Washington, D.C. God’s call for me to support underserved communities continued to grow as my resources and skills expanded. I transitioned to working in community-based nonprofits, where I managed and oversaw youth and family programs in low-income neighborhoods, first in D.C. and later in Brooklyn, NY.

Things were going well—I was proud of all I had learned from my education and loved my work in NYC and the relationships I had built with families. I had a great community of friends. I got married, had a lovely home, was financially stable, and was planning to start a family. It was easy to trust and thank God when everything seemed to align with my plans and hopes.

But then life took an unexpected turn, and suddenly I found myself without a job, a husband, or a home. I felt betrayed by God. Why had He allowed everything to be taken away from me? How could I trust that He loved me and had plans to prosper me, not harm me, to give me hope and a future (as Jeremiah 29:11 states) ? This didn’t feel like that at all.

What followed were years of grappling with my faith and relationship with God. I was completely broken, and it was only in that dark, most shattered place that I could fully see the depth of God’s grace and unwavering love. In my anger and anguish, doubt and fear, I eventually emerged, learning to hope again, relying on His strength, and feeling the strength He gave me. I endured far more than I thought possible. I learned much more about myself and about Him. Above all, I became astounded by how beautiful life started to look around me—even the sad things held beauty, and the little joyful moments felt even more wonderful.

During this time of career and emotional distress, I was deeply depressed and barely able to do much beyond getting out of bed and journaling during my quiet times with God. Eventually, the only other activity I had the energy for was creating small paintings of animals—a series I called Portraits of the Unsure. These often reflected the thoughts and feelings I was experiencing. For example, one painting features a sad-looking dog tied to a telephone pole, waiting for someone. The caption reads, “She loved Him, so she trusted Him. And because she trusted Him, she waited.” As I created more paintings, my interest grew in illustration and the interplay between words and pictures, particularly in children’s picture books.

I had always loved picture books since I was a child, poring over Richard Scarry books (though The Cat in the Hat stressed me out!). As an educator working with children and families, I was constantly surrounded by picture books and frequently reading them. By the time I reached this crucial juncture in my life, I had amassed a huge collection—not just because of my work, but because picture books have always been, to me, one of the most perfect creations. They seamlessly combine some of life’s most beautiful elements: a good story, exquisite language, incredible art, humor, wit, tenderness, and universal truths. They can make you cry or laugh, tell you something you didn’t know you needed to hear, or help you feel less alone. They show you more about the world and foster empathy. They encourage imagination and spark curiosity. People read them together or alone; they become part of family traditions or cherished childhood memories. There’s something uniquely special about the role a picture book plays in a child’s life.

Even though I’d always been surrounded by picture books and had studied art in high school and college, I had never seriously considered making them myself. While I occasionally doodled, I lacked a formal illustration background, and I didn’t believe I could succeed in such a competitive industry. But at that moment—jobless, depressed, with nothing to lose and the space to really listen to what God was speaking to me about my belovedness—I began to consider whether I might try making books after all. I enrolled in children’s book-making classes. I attended storytimes and visited bookstores to read picture books and analyze what made a picture book great. I painted more, built up a portfolio, and attended children’s book conferences to learn more about the industry and connect with publishers and editors. I also started making friends who were also trying to break into the children’s book industry. Together, we would meet to give each other feedback on our book projects.

At a conference in 2014, a year after I started this journey, my portfolio received a Runner-Up award at a portfolio showcase. Within six months, I had signed with a literary agent and secured a two-book deal. I couldn’t believe how quickly it all happened!

Looking back, it’s still hard to believe how everything came together. I had felt so lost, holding on to nothing but a thin thread of trust that God was by my side. Hope had felt almost impossible. But now, being on the other side of it, it’s incredible to see how God works in ways that far exceed what we could ever hope or imagine. Not only did He bring me out of depression and heal my pain, but He also led me into a completely new career that I love—one where I can see His purpose in how He made me. Now, every day I work on making books, I have the chance to glorify Him.

Since then, I’ve created 13 children’s books with major publishers like Macmillan, HarperCollins, Simon & Schuster, and Abrams. My latest work is a graphic novel memoir titled Uprooted: A Memoir About What Happens When Your Family Moves Back. This book is by far the most meaningful to me for many reasons. When I first started thinking about creating a graphic novel, I had originally planned to base it on my father’s birth story as a sort of love letter to my family and our history. My grandmother and aunt used to recount the story of how my father was born in a barn while the family was escaping the Japanese invasion during the Second Sino-Japanese War. Growing up, my cousins and I would gather every year to listen to this story—so much so that it became a cherished Chan family legend. The tenacity, courage, and resourcefulness of my grandparents have always astounded me, and I wanted to immortalize these values, as well as the beauty of having family gather to hear about our legacy. Perhaps if I made a book about this particular story, these treasured moments could be passed down to our own children—and maybe even to their children.

As I continued working on this book, I began to notice common threads between my father’s birth story and my own life. While I didn’t grow up during wartime, the theme of being uprooted resonated deeply with me. I started incorporating my own story, realizing how years of hearing my grandmother and aunt recount this tale of survival had shaped my values and influenced how I viewed my own experiences of uprootedness. In the end, Uprooted tells the story of my move from Canada to Hong Kong as a teenager, interwoven with the story of my father’s birth. The book includes plenty of 13-year-old moments, from making friends to liking boys, to struggling with speaking Cantonese despite being terrible at it. In both stories, there is a shared quest for belonging and understanding what “home” truly means, while learning to face hardship with courage, perseverance, and patience. The two narratives are tied together in the book through a nighttime ritual I had with my father called "Talk-to-Talk," where he’d come in at bedtime and talk until one of us (usually him) fell asleep.

In the end, I created Uprooted not just for my family, but for anyone who has ever felt out of place or found themselves in an unfamiliar situation. My hope is that readers feel a little less lonely when facing something new or difficult, and that they remember that by staying open, giving themselves time, persevering, and staying true to themselves, they will eventually find where they belong. I’m now married to a wonderful, loving man, and we have a beautiful young daughter together. I can’t wait to share Uprooted with her one day. Looking back, I can see that God’s faithfulness and goodness were with me all along. While the uncertainty and change in my life were not easy, God truly honored His promise to give me hope and a future.

Ultimately, I hope that everything I create continues to spread the truth of how deeply God loves everyone. Whether it’s a picture book about a cat having a bad day because he slips on a banana peel, or a graphic novel about a girl struggling to make friends, I want readers to find something in my books that makes them laugh, cry, or think. I hope they feel seen and heard, know that they matter, and recognize that they are worthy of love.

Ruth Chan