Tools, Tea, & Togetherness

Beneath the Boutique

Many City Boutique customers don’t realize that right below our bustling resale shop is one of the most meaningful parts of our nonprofit. Our first classes were volunteer-led, meeting weekly in our old building on Sexton. After I joined the team, I noticed Afghan men coming in, asking for sewing machines for their wives.

In my spare time, I began cleaning and oiling donated machines before sending them to families. Word spread, and soon the Afghan ladies were inviting me to tea—and to teach them how to maintain, or “fix,” their machines.

For many of these women, our visits are the social highlight of the week. Inviting me into their homes—or coming to the office for a hug and some fabric—offers the connection so many crave.

Talking. Making. Being. Together.

Mending More Than Fabric

One family recently asked me to look at their “broken” machine. When a daughter told me her Mor was sad and lonely, I made it a priority to visit the next day.

Children tumbled out to greet me. I was shown drawings, handed a water bottle, and invited to sit for dinner. No one mentioned the sewing machine until the meal was done and the tablecloth cleared of crumbs.

Thankfully, the machine only needed cleaning. Little ones took turns tightening screws while the girls debated who would clean lint from the bobbin case. Curious hands explored my repair kit, and a streak of baby snot ended up on my skirt—oddly, it made the day even sweeter.

Shoes left by the door, I laughed as tiny fingers tickled my toes. By the time the machine was humming again, Mor knew how to clean, oil, and set the knobs. Her five children—none older than thirteen—beamed with pride, eager to help her next time, though she firmly declined.

This was real life. Real community.

More Than a Fix: Conversations and Care

Before I could leave, tea was served—despite the full dinner. Older kids drifted in from school, and we chatted about the chirping smoke detectors that had kept them up at night. Dad asked me to check his voicemails while the children translated.

Mor mentioned she needed a vacuum and an electric tea kettle, so I added them to my mental donation list—simple things that could make her home feel more like home. The baby looked sick, so we talked about her doctor’s visit and the importance of using baby Tylenol, not the adult kind.

Then came the moment that melted my heart. Mor picked up her phone, smiled, and said one of the few English words she knew—“friend.” She handed me her phone to add my WhatsApp contact.

A Purse, a Wave, and a Farewell

When I left, the kids helped carry my things. One little brother tried dragging my purse—nearly his size—down the steps until his big sister rescued both purse and brother. As I pulled away, the whole family waved from the yard like I was a celebrity.

Mor had left behind a close-knit village in her home country and missed her tea chats with family. Maybe our visit filled a bit of that space—and maybe, just maybe, the friendship mattered more than the machine.

Beyond the Surface

On the surface, the Artisan Program empowers women to learn or hone their craft. But beneath it all, it’s about relational care and cultural adaptation.

When you donate supplies, sewing machines, time, or money you help us do what we do best: welcome and empower our new friends.

Thank you.

Stefanie Nichols
Artisan Empowerment Specialist

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