Creativity as Stewardship: Returning to What You’ve Been Given

There is something deeply peaceful about sitting outside with a sketchbook in your lap and nowhere else you need to be.

Some days, I find myself drawing beneath the shade of a tree while my daughters fill pages beside me with flowers, tiny animals, and imaginative little scenes. The air smells of wet soil after rain. Birds call from nearby branches. The sunlight moves slowly across the page as the afternoon unfolds.

There is no pressure in those moments to create something impressive. No audience waiting. No algorithm to satisfy. No urgency to prove myself.

Just the quiet joy of noticing.

Of observing.

Of creating.

 

And strangely enough, it was in these small moments — not in the striving, not in the rushing, not in the endless search for “success” — that I began to understand creativity differently.

Not as performance.

But as stewardship.

Sometimes it’s hard to see what you’ve been called to while you are busy living ordinary life. We often expect calling to arrive in dramatic moments or perfectly clear instructions, but more often than not, God reveals it slowly through the patterns already woven into who we are.

If we pause long enough to carefully observe our lives, we begin to notice the fingerprints of how He made us different.

 

Some people would argue that we become who we are because of our environment and circumstances. Others believe we are shaped mostly by how we were naturally created. Personally, I think we are a beautiful combination of both. God uses our experiences, personalities, struggles, gifts, and seasons to gently guide us toward the life He has prepared for us.

But walking into that calling requires trust.

It requires acknowledging Him as the centre and foundation of our lives and then learning to walk with Him step by step, even when we cannot yet see the whole picture.

Looking back now, I can see creativity woven through every part of my story.

I have been creative for as long as I can remember.

 

As a little girl, I spent hours drawing, painting, cutting intricate 3D shapes from paper, and sewing my own clothes. To be honest, I have always loved almost every form of creativity — singing, making music, dancing, styling spaces, designing garments, and even raising my children. Creativity was never confined to one category for me. It was simply part of how I experienced the world.

Whenever I saw a beautiful product or artwork in a shop, my first thought was often:
“I think I could make that too.”

Sometimes with more success than others.

I studied Graphic Design at the University of Pretoria before later completing a BA in Fashion Design. I opened a clothing boutique supporting local fashion designers, created my own clothing line, and eventually entered a completely different season of life when I became a mother.

 

Not long afterward, my husband and I made the decision to homeschool our children because we wanted to help them discover and develop their own God-given callings too.

And although there were seasons where everything felt beautifully aligned, there were also many moments where I quietly wrestled with the feeling that I was doing many creative things… but not necessarily stewarding my creative gifting faithfully.

Because I enjoyed so many different things, I often moved from one idea to another. One project to the next. One inspiration to another burst of excitement.

But over time, I began to realise that constantly jumping between emotions and inspiration is not the same thing as faithfully stewarding a gift.

 

Then, in 2024, something shifted.

I attended a course through church called CCEP hosted by City Changers Institute, and for the first time, the pieces started coming together in a deeper way.

The penny finally dropped.

I realised God had intentionally made me creative — not only to create beautiful things, but also to encourage other creatives to walk confidently in their own calling.

And almost simultaneously — only as God could orchestrate it — I discovered the world of surface pattern design.

Suddenly, everything that had felt scattered began to converge into one meaningful direction.

It was the perfect fusion between my love for fabric, storytelling, illustration, design, and my desire to create art that could live beyond a frame on a wall.

The deeper I stepped into it, the clearer my path became.

And clarity changed something in me.

Not because I suddenly had every answer, but because I no longer felt tossed around by every new idea, trend, or external pressure.

I began working more slowly. More intentionally.

With God.

With peace.

With an eternal perspective.

 

And perhaps most importantly, it became easier to say no to opportunities that no longer aligned with the direction He was leading me toward.

That does not mean every season looks the same.

There were years when my creative work happened in tiny pockets of time while babies napped in the next room. Years where fifteen uninterrupted minutes felt like a luxury.

But even then, I always longed to create something meaningful.

I always wanted a project to slowly build toward.

 

And now I realise that those small hidden moments mattered more than I understood at the time.

Because stewardship rarely begins with large opportunities.

It usually begins with small acts of faithfulness.

A sketchbook page.

A quiet hour.

A habit formed slowly over time.

A willingness to keep showing up.