What embroidery taught me about perfection, patience, and the gift of creating together.
A meaningful lesson.
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Hello friends,
This story is one of creativity, discovery, and paying attention to the little things along the way.
It begins with my oldest granddaughter, who is 16, texting me with a request: could we embroider something together—maybe sweatshirts?
She had a vision—forget-me-nots embroidered down the sleeve of hers. She asked if I’d teach her how. I was delighted. I’m quickly discovering that time with teenagers is precious, and when they call, you answer. “Of course! Come on over.”
We shopped for sweatshirts, gathered embroidery floss, and set ourselves up at my kitchen table. For three days we experimented and stitched. I watched her carefully sketch her design with a special white embroidery pencil. She checked online for inspiration, then drew the flowers freehand onto the fabric. I was in awe—she was carefree, adventurous, and oh so creative. She just forged ahead without hesitation.
At one point, after we ironed on the backing fabric (which we forgot to do before she sketched the design), the heat removed her carefully drawn flowers. But she didn’t give up. With quiet determination, she simply redrew them from memory and kept going. I couldn’t help but notice her patience, her courage to just begin, and her willingness to try again.
Meanwhile, I was the one stuck. She kept asking, “Baba, when are you going to do your sweatshirt?”
Here’s the funny part: I was hesitating. Me—the creative one! I scrolled and searched for the “perfect” design, thinking I couldn’t possibly draw mine freehand like she did. I even bought transfer sheets so I could iron on a pattern and be sure it would look just right.
That’s when I started noticing something in myself. Was this my old perfectionism creeping back in—the one I’ve worked so hard to let go of? Was I holding back because I wanted it to be perfect before I even began?
And then it struck me: this wasn’t really my project. It was hers. My role was to witness, teach, encourage, and enjoy the gift of watching her creativity.
Soon after, my younger granddaughter joined in, with the same confidence and creativity. She embroidered her jeans—first the pocket, then the back of one leg. It truly became a special time with Baba and her girls.
Later, in a monthly women’s circle I belong to (called GEMs), we were asked to share what we had been working on over the summer. I thought about it. I not only had helped my granddaughter with her sweatshirt, I had gathered and organized all of the family memorabilia and history from my mom and grandma, and even delivered it to the museum in their hometown so it could live on as a legacy. I had shared creative projects with the beautiful women who sit with me monthly at The Kitchen Table in the Nest Retreat Center. But what had I created just for me?
That’s when I decided to begin something new—a table runner for my dining room. I borrowed a wool appliqué pattern from my sister, but instead of following it exactly, I began imagining my own version. Perhaps pieced fabrics stitched into flowers. Or maybe a collection of slow-stitched squares, each its own little creation, joined together into something whole.
And so, from one small moment of noticing—my granddaughter’s determination to draw, erase, and draw again to finish her embroidered sweatshirt without any prior experience—came a spark for my own creative journey.
This month reminded me:
Noticing isn’t just about seeing what’s around us. Sometimes it’s about seeing ourselves—our patterns, our hesitations, and the places where creativity is waiting to bloom.
What did you notice this month?
I hope you had a chance to explore the Practice of Noticing Calendar I created for you. I used it myself and found it to be such a gentle reminder to pause. A few times, I even connected with a dear friend as we shared the daily activities together—it made the practice even more meaningful (and fun!).
I’ll be back tomorrow to introduce September’s theme at The Nest Retreat Center.
Thank you