Raising Daughters with Thread in Their Hands and Purpose in Their Hearts
It’s weird how the big things don’t always feel big when they happen. Just some random moment at the table, a quiet question, a pile of scraps. I didn’t set out to raise artists. But I did try to leave the door open. I kept the tools around. Showed them how to get started. Made space when I could. And somewhere along the way, creativity just became part of who we are.
Taylor was six when she walked up to me with a drawing of a dress and said, “Can we make this?”
Each piece was a different color, and she’d even added little checkboxes like a to-do list—because she wasn’t playing. She already had the whole plan figured out.
We just pulled together whatever we had, some fabric scraps, an old bedsheet, and a whole lot of winging it. It definitely wasn’t perfect. But when she put it on, her whole face lit up. She gave it a spin, and that was it. Magic. Not because it was fancy. Just because it was hers.
Now she’s sixteen. And the girl who once handed me a crayon drawing now sits behind her own machine, bringing her ideas to life with skill and intention. Her birthday gift last year (thanks to both grandmas pitching in) was a high-quality machine she can take into adulthood. Naturally, she named it The Fairy Godmother 3000.
This spring, she designed and sewed a full-length formal gown, layer after layer of pastel tulle, and when she walked out wearing it, I got that same lump in my throat I did when she was six. Because it’s not about the dress. It never was.
It’s about what happens when we make room.
When we say yes to creative messes. When we cheer for their projects the way we’d cheer for a grade or a game. When we treat their gifts like they matter, not “someday,” not “when they get older,” but right now.
Creativity isn’t something extra around here. It’s just part of life. There’s always something in progress—half-done projects on the table, thread on the floor, flour on the counter. It’s not always tidy, but it’s always real.
Taylor is slow and steady. She doesn’t need attention or applause; she just finds something she loves and gets to work. Sewing, photography, design… she doesn’t jump from thing to thing. She picks a lane and stays in it. I don’t always notice how far she’s come until I look up and think, wait a minute… she built all that. And I mean built it. Skill by skill. Quietly. On purpose.
Makayla’s the spark. If Taylor is the slow flame, MJ is fireworks. Bright. Bold. Always on to the next creative thing. Quilting one day, clay animals the next, then she’s out in the yard gathering flowers like she’s prepping for a magazine shoot. There’s always something new. She just goes for it, no hesitation, no second-guessing. And most of the time? She pulls it off.
They’re nothing alike when it comes to how they create. But both of them? They’re building something that lasts. And I feel it every time I stop and really watch.
And the older I get, the more I realize… this is the stuff that lasts. Not just the skills, but the confidence that comes from using your hands. The joy that comes from making something beautiful. The quiet strength that says, “I can figure this out.”
That’s what I want for my kids. For yours too.
So, if your child has a little spark… maybe they draw dragons on every piece of paper or mix spices into their oatmeal… don’t brush it off. Don’t wait until they’re older or better or more “serious.”
Fan the flame.
Say yes.
Let the mess happen. Make the cookies. Plant the flowers. Teach them to sew. Let them see you learning too.
You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to show them that creativity belongs in real life—not just in art class or Pinterest boards, but in your home.
Because home is where skills take root. And sometimes, when we least expect it, those roots bloom into something amazing.
Some of Our Favorite Places to Learn
If you’re trying to build a home that means something—not just keep one running—you’re in the right place. I share the real stuff here. The skills that used to be passed down but kind of got lost. How to sew. How to cook real food. How to get your hands in the dirt and figure things out as you go. If that’s what you’re working toward too, I’d love to send a little encouragement your way each week. Nothing fancy. Just honest stories, helpful how-tos, and reminders that this work matters. Sign up below if you want in.
Aw, Christy, I love this! What a special memory that you have of your girls, and I find it inspiring that you have worked to encourage them to blossom in all of their multicolored glory!
Thank you so much!