I’m Rachel…

…the brown-eyed, curly-haired girl behind RachelEasleyGoing.com. I was born and raised in Northwest Arkansas,  near Mountainburg.  Arkansas is near and dear to my heart.  I still have deep  “heart” roots there.  I was transplanted to Indianapolis when I married  Philip, the man of my dreams. I could have ended up anywhere.  I didn’t care, as long as it was with him.

I am blessed…

…to be his wife and mom to our children, Jonathan, Daniel and his new wife Alyssa (May 2016), and Tiffany. In 2018, I was promoted to Nana, by our sweet miracle boy, Raleigh Sage! Our family and our relationship is my most priceless possession.  I believe great relationships take hard work and constant nurturing.

What I Do

As long as I can remember, I have LOVED to  create and repurpose with fabric, flowers, furniture and just about any other cast away item that I could get my hands on. Across the years I’ve had amazing clients entrust their timeless keepsakes into my care. I love to cook and entertain, decorate anything, read and write, sing, play the piano and learn something new everyday!  My husband and I have owned and operated a land surveying  business since 1994, in which we both work full time.  Our children have grown up  in the business and are now starting to pursue dreams of their own. In 2007 when the economy began to slow, I was able to offer a broader range of fashion and interior design services, which grew into a full scale business. the-reason-it-matters

Home Decor





I hope you will find inspiration to live each moment with a little sparkle and joy as I share my perspective of life and creative pursuits!

Memories transport me…

…to the age of four, where I distinctly remember sitting under the dining table making a “doll” from scrap fabric using scissors and needle and thread, while Mother worked on the table surface above me designing  a beautiful plaid winter coat  for one of my older sisters.   At the age of seven, mother allowed me to begin using her sewing machine and my love for designing and decorating took hold and began to flourish. I strive to look for the sparkle and joy in each day, even the difficult days.. When I wrote my first blog post eight years ago I didn’t know where this blog would take me. In 2007, my niece and I were discussing blogs. She’s had a blog since “blog time” began. She was encouraging me to start a blog and generously set one up for me. I love to write. I remember receiving a brown diary for Christmas when I was nine years old. I was so proud of it. It was a place for words of my own. When I was a Freshman in High School, Mrs. Fisher, my English teacher, challenged us to write in a journal every day. Actually, she required it. She was my English teacher 9-12 grade, and the journal was required every year. Yes, I have all four years of High School, written in journals. Priceless! I guarded my journal carefully. It was filled with pages of me, shy, uncertain, self-conscious, determined, little me. If it would have been scattered and torn or ripped and cast to the wind I would have crumbled and melted right into the red clay soil of Northwest Arkansas. Well, that’s what I thought then. Life has taught me I would have survived! With her vivacious and energetic personality, Mrs. Fisher instilled in me a love for transposing thoughts or activities to written words. Through her class journal assignment, she made me write when I didn’t want to. She required me to write when the thoughts were too difficult for transcription. She insisted that I record my thoughts and activities when I was too busy. And she allowed me to feel the joy of thoughts flowing freely into words. In my memory, I can still see her beautiful brown curly hair and her petite frame moving from desk to desk to desk as she quickly moved about the classroom and put a red check mark at the top of each student’s completed journal page, and recording credit in her grade book. She did this every school day. I think often of the effort required on her part because this was an assignment for all of her students. She said, “I will never read what you write.  Those are your thoughts, your words.  However, you must write one page.  I will check to see that you did the assignment each day.  You will receive credit for doing it.” I LOVED this assignment. It was like my Christmas gift diary. Only it was all grown up now! Her system of checking our work, balanced against the assurance we could write whatever we chose, gave me freedom for expression. January 1, 2008, when I first clicked published on the post I wrote, I hung on the edge of fear, knowing that if I hit publish, suddenly with one key stroke, my thoughts  which I had translated to words, would no longer be my own. Even now, when I click to publish a new post, the thoughts that have become words, are with the click of the cursor, no longer mine, they become ours. They are now words that can be loved or criticized or despised or treasured. They are simply scattered beyond my reach, no longer guarded and held tightly in my arms, secured between the front and back flimsy cardboard flaps and spiral wire binding of my journal. When I first started this blog, I had no idea how much you, my readers would bless ME… by stopping me and  reaching my direction, personally or through private messages, and texts or emails to  tell me things that are of concern in your life. I never expected for you to tell me that what I said through written words had given you a new focus… …a new perspective. I never realized how much larger my world would grow, as I have communicated with you around the globe. I carry you and what you say and care about, close in my heart. You have blessed me and made my life so much richer. It strengthens my resolve to live wisely and graciously. When you tell me you’ve been touched by words read here… from the depths of my being I can say you have touched ME so much more… …and… I am humbled, truly humbled. I never expected it! I’m writing for us, you and me, and those looking for a glimmer of joy and a fresh breath of hope. Thank you from the depths of my being for letting me know the words have come full circle.