Between the Booths: Lessons from Market Season

This year was my very first market season, and what a season it’s been. I started small, setting up at a local farmer’s market, not entirely sure what to expect but ready to step out of my comfort zone. It wasn’t what I imagined, but it turned out to be a season of learning, about business, about people, and honestly, about myself.

I’ve always been what I’d call an introverted extrovert. I enjoy connecting with people, but it can also leave me feeling drained. As a stay-at-home, homeschooling mom of three boys, I’ve grown used to spending most of my days surrounded by little voices, not adult conversations. So, walking into a market full of new faces, questions, and conversations was both energizing and overwhelming.

Still, I loved it, the fresh air, the hum of chatter, the colorful displays, the way the morning light hit my jewelry and made it sparkle. My favorite part was simply being there, surrounded by creativity and community, and watching people interact with my creations. I wasn’t looking for approval, but I did find myself wrestling with the need for validation, wondering if people liked my work, if my designs were good enough, if I belonged among other talented makers.

That’s something I’m learning to hand back over to God. My worth and purpose can’t be measured by how many people stop at my table or how many sales I make.

Behind the scenes, market life can be tough in ways people don’t always see. There were days I didn’t sell a single piece, not one. I never expected to sell out every weekend, but walking away with no sales at all was hard to accept. It made me question if I was doing something wrong, if I should change my designs, or if maybe I wasn’t cut out for this after all.

Each week, I’d find myself scrambling to restock or create something new, hoping that a different display or design might spark someone’s interest. I wasn’t chasing greed, I was searching for direction. For confirmation that I was on the path God wanted me to be on. But again, I found myself looking for validation in the wrong places.

Faith and motivation aren’t easy to hold onto when things don’t go as planned. There were weekends when the weather was bad, when I was tired from late-night prep, or when someone would walk into my tent, look around, and say something like, “Oh, I could make this.” Those moments stung more than I’d like to admit. My confidence wavered, and there were days I told myself, “I just won’t go this weekend.”

But then there were the other days, the good ones. The ones where I’d wake up with new ideas, new colors, new designs stirring in my heart. The days when I couldn’t wait to create something beautiful, when I felt that spark of joy again.

I’m still learning to lean into God’s plan, to measure success not in sales, but in obedience. He’s teaching me that consistency matters more than results, that the work of my hands has value even when the outcome doesn’t look the way I imagined.

I didn’t have one big “this is it” moment this season, no instant of confirmation that I’d arrived or that everything made sense. But I had several smaller “aha!” moments, and maybe those are even better.

I learned that procrastination only adds stress and that setting boundaries around my time is essential. I learned that I can’t (and shouldn’t) do multiple markets in one month, no matter how ambitious I feel. I learned that realistic expectations lead to peace, not disappointment.

Most importantly, I learned that God doesn’t measure success the way we do. He looks at faithfulness, at the willingness to keep showing up, to keep creating, and to keep trusting Him in the quiet in-between.

So, as I look ahead to the next market season, my prayer is simple:
That I’ll approach it with peace instead of pressure, with joy instead of comparison, and with faith instead of fear.

The good and the bad, the busy and the slow, it all becomes part of the story. And in every moment, I want to remember who gave me the hands to create in the first place.

Not Gonna Be Perfect and That’s Okay

Perfection is a funny thing. We spend so much of our lives chasing it, the perfect home, the perfect family, the perfect faith walk, and yet it always seems just out of reach. The world tells us that “perfect” means without flaw, that everything we do, say, or create should shine without a single mark or mistake.

For me, perfectionism has always shown up as the need for everything I put out into the world to be without flaw. My creative work, my family, even my relationship with God, I’ve wanted it all to look like I had it together. I thought if I could keep up the appearance of control, maybe that meant I was doing something right.

But that’s not how life works. And honestly, that’s not how God works either.

I can’t pinpoint one single moment when things fell apart, and I suddenly learned the lesson. What I remember instead are the countless times I felt exhausted from trying to maintain the public face I thought I was supposed to have. The times when my house was a mess, my kids were loud and wild, and I scrolled through social media wondering how everyone else seemed to be managing so much better than me.

That exhaustion, the constant striving to be “enough,” always led to guilt, frustration, and the quiet whisper of I’m not good enough.

Somewhere in the middle of all that striving, God started whispering back. Not with correction, but with calm. Not with judgment, but with peace.

There are two verses I lean on when my heart starts spiraling into that perfectionist mindset. The first is John 14:27:

“Peace I leave with you; my peace I give unto you. Not as the world giveth, give I unto you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid.”

And the second is Mark 4:39:

“And he arose, and rebuked the wind, and said unto the sea, ‘Peace, be still.’ And the wind ceased, and there was a great calm.”

Those words remind me that Jesus didn’t just speak peace to the storm, He speaks it to us, too. He knew our hearts would wrestle with fear, control, and striving. And still, He offers us His peace, not the kind the world gives, the kind that depends on everything looking “just right,” but a peace that stills the storm within us.

I’m still learning to let go of the need to be perfect. It’s an ongoing process. I’m learning that I’m not always going to make the right choices, not as a wife, not as a mom, not as a sister or daughter. But His grace is enough. I’m learning to rest in that truth, to embrace the fact that I’m not perfect, but He is, and He’s got me.

If I could sit across from someone who feels like they’re failing because they can’t get it all right, I’d tell them this: Don’t buy into the lie that you’ve got to have it all together. Even when you aren’t perfect, you still have value, deep, God-given value that no one can take away.

It’s okay to stumble. It’s okay to grow slow. It’s okay to have days when the best thing you can do is breathe and whisper, “Lord, I’m trying.”

God isn’t finished with you. He’s not looking for perfection; He’s looking for presence. He doesn’t expect flawlessness; He asks for faithfulness.

So, stop striving for an unattainable version of perfect. Instead, learn to thrive in the very flaws that remind you of His grace. Because when you release the need to be perfect, you make room for peace, the kind that only He can give.

From Hobby to Business: The Learning Curve

Most of my creations were never meant for sale. They were made for the women in my family, my mom, my sister, my nieces, little tokens of love that carried stories and memories. Starting a business was the furthest thing from my mind. I had always heard the saying, “If you want to hate a hobby, just turn it into a job.” And for a long time, I believed it.

I was afraid that if I tried to make a business out of something I loved, I’d lose the joy in it, that it would start feeling like work instead of worship. But over time, I realized I’d been looking at it from the wrong point of view. What if this wasn’t just my idea? What if this was something God had been preparing me for all along?

I can’t say with certainty that this is one hundred percent the plan God has for me, but I do believe He planted this love of beadwork in my heart for a reason. The desire to create didn’t come from nowhere, it grew, little by little, until it became something that felt purposeful. And when my boys started growing more independent, it felt like God opened a window.

While we still homeschool, they no longer need me sitting right beside them every moment. Suddenly, I found myself with small pockets of time, moments I hadn’t had in years. And I asked myself, Why not use this time to create something that could also bless our family? Why not let God use the work of my hands in a new way?

That realization didn’t make the transition easy, though. If I had to name one of the hardest parts of shifting from hobby to business, it’s time, my time, my family’s time, God’s time. When it was just a hobby, I could pick up my beads whenever I wanted, make something here or there, and call it a day. But turning it into a business meant learning discipline, creating schedules, setting goals, and staying consistent.

And let’s be honest… I haven’t been on time for anything since I left the military thirteen years ago. Add in procrastination and the unpredictable rhythm of family life, and you can imagine how that’s going. Some days I feel like I’m thriving; other days, I feel like I’m treading water. But I’m learning that both days are part of the process. Growth doesn’t happen all at once, it happens quietly, in persistence and prayer.

Even now, I’m still learning how to balance it all. I truly believe my creativity and imagination are divine gifts from our Divine Creator, but I also wrestle with doubt. There are moments when I question whether my work is good enough or if anyone will even like it. It’s humbling to admit that. But I’m learning to let my faith lead the way, to create not for approval, but out of obedience. My prayer is that everything I make will reflect His goodness and be guided by His hand.

If I could speak to anyone standing where I once stood — afraid to take the next step, uncertain about whether your dream is “enough”, I would tell you this:
Be strong and courageous. He has overcome the world.

We were not created to please others. When we chase their approval, we lose sight of the person God made us to be. But when we create from a place of faith, trusting that He can use even our small beginnings, we find peace in the process.

I’m still learning, still fumbling through time management and self-doubt, still figuring out what it means to build a business while staying rooted in grace. But I know this much: every time I sit down to create, I feel His presence. And that’s how I know I’m right where I’m meant to be, learning, growing, and trusting Him with the work of my hands.