I still cringe when I remember this one conversation from years ago. A friend was showing me photos of some of the incredible cakes she had made—gorgeous cakes with exuberant, witty designs, skillfully executed. She made them for family and friends, and she loved the work and loved making them happy.

You know, you could sell those, I said. You could sell them and also make a book about it and sell that, too! She was polite and listened to all my ideas. But as far as I know, she is still giving her cakes away.

I wasn’t wrong, of course. But my friend did not pursue my ideas because she was already doing what she wanted to do and wasn’t looking for advice about how to monetize her talent.

At the time, the idea of simply creating things for pleasure didn’t even occur to me. Instead, figuring out how to monetize skills was a constant habit. This was necessary because my family was broke and even a little bit more cash made a big difference.

I would constantly scrutinize my personal strengths, trying to turn them into paying gigs. I have some experience teaching, so I tried to launch a business as a tutor. I can draw and paint a little, so I tried my hand at illustrating books. I know how to deliver a speech so people will listen, and I spent several years traveling around doing just that. I can even, presumably, write, and I’ve managed to worm my way into a professional writing career. The ideas continue: I have thoughts about movies? Make it into a podcast! I know how to feed a large family on a small budget? Strike a deal with Aldi and become their local spokesperson!

Most of these things didn’t pan out, for various reasons. But some did, and the money did help, and it was also tremendously satisfying to realize that I can do things that are good enough that people are willing to pay for them. A budget boost and a confidence boost. Very nice.

But one spring, as I filled in the last spots in my garden with seedlings and vegetable starts, I realized I had lots of them left over. This doesn’t usually happen! But I had gotten myself through the last difficult month of winter by starting vegetables inside, and also outside in little milk jug greenhouses; and before that, I had gotten myself through the autumn by collecting and drying and storing away as many seeds as I could. I went a little overboard, it turns out, trying to survive; and I had more than enough.

So I started giving the seeds and starts away, some to friends, some to neighbors and some to strangers on social media. We met at the library or I drove to their houses. We recognized each other’s vehicles, shyly said hello. Then I handed over the goods, they thanked me, I wished them luck, and away they went. Very, very nice.

Nicer, even, than being paid.

In the past, I really needed the boost that came from realizing that I have actual skills and talents, and that people recognize what I can do. Receiving money for something you’ve made or done is a very effective way of proving to yourself that you really do have something to offer.

But once you are secure in that knowledge, it is even nicer to start doing and making things that people want and then give them away.

There is a whole other discussion we can have about good work going undervalued—including creative work and especially “women’s work.” [Editors’ note: See Kate Ward’s article in this issue.] Go to social media, and you’ll see how the world still somehow thinks that artists and craftspeople ought to be offering their handmade work at Temu prices. They definitely still think that caring for children, cooking, cleaning, teaching, singing and so on—the things we imagine should come naturally to women—are not real jobs and therefore do not deserve compensation.

This flawed thinking is also especially true when the work has anything to do with the faith. People believe anything associated with religion should be given away for free, conveniently forgetting that even Catholics need to pay for groceries. And a terrible number of men in the church rely heavily on the constant but often invisible volunteer labor of women (and then go on to lament how “feminized” the church has become).

But that is a conversation for another day. A conversation about recognizing the value of our own work and insisting that other people recognize it, too.

For now, if you have the privilege of self-confidence and stability, maybe challenge yourself to find things you can give away. Not just material things, either, like a pair of boots you can donate rather than sell on eBay, but things like time, energy, patience and experience.

I no longer have half a dozen children hanging off me at Mass, so that means I can offer to help a younger mom who does. I’m not perpetually drowning in work and behind on everything, so now I can drop by a neighbor’s house for a chat, and it’s OK if she’s feeling very chatty and won’t let me go. I no longer have to account for every piece of change in my possession, so I can offer an Aldi cart to a stranger and wave away their offered quarter. Just little things. But very nice for someone who needs it.

There are so many things we really can afford to give away. I have friends who are wonderful listeners and steadfast encouragers. They give it away every day, every time someone shows up shaky and discouraged and in need of assurance. I have friends who are willing to pray for you any time you request it, no questions asked. They are constantly giving these very valuable supports away because this is what they are good at. And they recognize that someone else needs that good.

You have heard that grace builds on nature. This is one of the ways that happens: Generosity builds on talent. Once you are secure that the things you can do are really worth something, you further realize that you can afford to give them away. That generosity turns out to be, in turn, a tremendous gift.

Money is a necessary evil. De-monetizing the world and our talents and our relationships, whenever we can, is a great way of making the world less evil. And not simply less evil: More kind. God knows we need that.

This article appears in June 2026.

Simcha Fisher is a speaker, freelance writer, regular contributor to The Catholic Weekly and author of The Sinner’s Guide to Natural Family Planning. She lives in New Hampshire with her husband and 10 children.