open christmas card to my friends

I’m in a craft club with three friends. We meet monthly, we make a craft, we enjoy a meal. And we assign homework that most of us never do. Except Robin, who always completes hers. I’m sure when she was young she sat in the first row at school, with braided pigtails and ironed skirts. She is a poised and gracious soul who sews impeccably and does her homework. She is also one of the kindest people I know.

Our homework assignment for this month was a simple one – to gift someone with a handmade Christmas card. So here is mine…

This year I’ve lost three friends to cancer, and I’ve learned that grief wears many masks. In April, when my friend Jennifer died, my grief was fierce. It was filled with shock and agony, because the world was indisputably a better place with her in it. I sobbed out loud. I’m pretty sure I yelled, too. I was so angry at the unfairness of it all.

Last month, a boy I grew up with lost his battle with cancer. In a rural town of 300 people, we grew up more as family than friends. We all went to the same church, attended the same youth group, and called every adult Aunt and Uncle even if they weren’t related. When Camp passed, my grief was quiet but deep. I was not only surprised by his death but surprised that it affected me so profoundly. I had lost a little piece of my childhood.

It must be true that misfortune comes in threes, because yesterday a third friend died. Paula and I have been friends since Sunbeams. That was the generic equivalent of Girl Scouts for those of us who lived an hour from the closest grocery store and would never enjoy dependable high speed internet in our county. We put on little berets and wore banners with the word Sunbeams embroidered across them and probably met twice a month in a church basement but doing what I don’t know because it was so long ago. I just remember that Paula and I have been friends since we were in Sunbeams and somehow that made our bond unique. She was my oldest friend. When I heard of her passing, I felt heartbroken.

What I am learning is that sometimes we have to grieve something we no longer have in order to see more clearly what we do have. I’ll miss these friends, but I’m so thankful for the ones still in my life. So here’s to childhood friends that I may not see often but think of fondly. Here’s to college friends that shared some of the most fun times of my life. Here’s to new friends and all I have to learn from them.

And here’s to the ladies in my craft club – Patrice, who speaks her mind and makes no apology for being genuine. Her strength is incredible and so is her compassion. And sweet Carolyn, who always sees the good in people, and when there’s nothing kind to say, she always comments, in true southern style, “She has nice hair.” And here’s to lovely Robin, who always does her homework but will quickly put it aside if you need a listening ear.

I wish you a truly Merry Christmas,

And here’s a peek at the handmade Christmas cards I fashioned from pom poms, an old sock, yarn and paper, all salvaged from my studio.

(This post may contain affiliate links; as an Amazon associate I earn from qualifying purchases. See disclosure here.)