I’ve always loved cards.
Long before I ever made them by hand, I would spend what felt like hours in card shops, scanning the shelves for the perfect message. Sometimes it was for a specific occasion—other times, I’d find a card so perfectly suited to someone in my life that I’d buy it just to hold onto it until the right moment came along.
In fact, I recently found a few of those old treasures while clearing out my craft closet. They brought back so many memories of thoughtful connections and quiet moments of care.
There’s something special about receiving a card. It’s a physical reminder that someone thought of you, chose something with you in mind, and took the time to send it. Giving a handmade card takes that love even further—it’s not just the sentiment that’s been chosen for you, but the very paper and ink. A little piece of the sender’s time and heart is tucked inside the envelope.
When I make cards, I’m often thinking about the person I’ll send it to. Sometimes I create with a particular friend or family member in mind, letting my thoughts and memories of them shape the colors and layout. Other times I make something just for the joy of it and later find it’s exactly right for someone when the moment comes. Either way, I like to think I’m infusing the card with intention, warmth, and love.
A Creative Life, Interrupted
I’ve always been a creative person. For many years, knitting was my go-to craft. But after my mom passed away in 2016, I found I couldn’t bring myself to knit anymore. I’m not sure why—maybe the grief disrupted my rhythm, or maybe knitting had been a quiet connection between us. Either way, the spark was gone.
Add to that a growing struggle with arthritis in my hands, and suddenly knitting no longer felt like a comfort. I missed creating. I missed that peaceful, meditative space where hands and heart work together. But at the time, I wasn’t sure what could fill that void.
Then came March 2020.
Like many people, I entered the pandemic thinking I’d suddenly have more time. I came across a card-making kit subscription online—Annie’s CardMaker Kit-of-the-Month—and thought it looked easy and fun. I subscribed, imagining that this might be a gentle way back into crafting.
Spoiler alert: 2020 didn’t give me all that free time. My job required a total reconfiguration as we moved everything online, and by the end of each day I barely had energy to feed myself, let alone get crafty. The kits piled up unopened.
The Card That Rekindled Everything
Fast-forward to March 2023.
A dear friend was going through a really tough time, and I wanted to send her a card. I turned to my (rather extensive) stash of store-bought cards—some of which were 20 or 30 years old. But nothing felt quite right. The messages didn’t match, and some of the designs felt dated. Then I remembered those kits.
I pulled one out—probably not the easiest one to start with, as it had intricate folds and elements—but I figured it out. It was formulaic, yes, but that structure gave me a sense of accomplishment I hadn’t felt in a long time. I mailed the card, and my friend later told me how much it meant to her.
That one card sparked something in me.
I realized how much I’d missed creating—and how powerful it felt to pour that creativity into something that could brighten someone else’s day.
In my next post, I’ll share why I believe handmade cards still matter—and how I hope to inspire others through this blog.
Stay tuned. 💖