Tag Archives: Merry Christmas

Thankful Thursday December 2021 and The Angel Card Project

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I planned to share this post on Thanksgiving Day, but it didn’t quite work out. That’s ok, though. Since I’m going to tell you all about my holiday greetings project, it seems right to share the post in December after all.

Last year I heard about The Angel Card Project right around Christmas. According to the Project’s website,

Founded in November 2001, by Mark Martin, The Angel Card Project is an internet wide charity event designed to send greeting cards to those in need. The project started as a very small grassroots effort to reach a few indivdiuals to let them know they were not forgotten. Supported solely by volunteers, the mission of “Sending Love, One Christmas card at a time” was formed. 

Unfortunately, by the time I learned about the Angel Card Project in 2020, it was really too late to send any Christmas cards. When I explored the group’s website, I saw that it has a Facebook page and that volunteers send out cards all year, not just at Christmas. Members of the Facebook group request cards for other folks on an almost daily basis. People ask for cards to be sent to celebrate birthdays, to offer condolences for death and other losses, to cheer up the sick and the lonely, and to lift up anyone who isn’t doing well. After the year that was 2020 and with the ongoing COVID pandemic still keeping people with compromised immune systems at home, lots of people needed some uplifting in 2021.

In the second week of January, I set a goal for myself. I decided that every week I would send out postcards to 5 strangers who needed some cheer. I found most of those people through the Angel Card Project’s Facebook page. I’ve met my goal every week! Early on, I even sent 10 postcards one week to make up for that first week in January when I hadn’t sent any. By the end of 2021, I will have sent over 250 postcards to strangers across the U.S.A. I’ve sent postcards to elders in their 70s, 80s, 90s, and even 100s who were having a birthday. I’ve sent postcards to sick kids and adults. I’ve sent postcards to folks who were home bound, either due to COVID or other life circumstances. I’ve sent postcards to people who were lonely, sad, depressed, or struggling in some other way.

But wait! There’s more!

Christmas is the prime focus of the Angel Card Project, and I decided I wanted to participate in a big way. At first, I decided I wanted to send 200 Christmas cards. I thought that was a fine goal for a first-time participant. I started collecting Christmas cards on December 26 of 2020 when I scooped up eight (or was it 10?) boxes of 12 each at the Family Dollar. I think I paid 50 cents or maybe $1 a box. I found some Christmas card closeout deals at Walmart too and added those to my expanding assortment.

I asked friends for the Christmas cards they weren’t going to use. Most of my friends don’t send Christmas cards, but a couple did have a few from years past that they sent to me. I appreciated every one I got.

My sibling works at Target and several weeks after Christmas saw holiday washi tape on clearance, greatly reduced in price. I soon opened a care package and found myself in possession of many rolls of washi tape. I started using it right away to decorate envelopes I wouldn’t be sending for at least 10 months.

Over the summer, while living in Taos, I browsed at least one thrift store several times a week. I often found holiday cards there. I waited until the cards were marked down and the price was quite low before I bought them. Before I knew it, I had 250 cards, then 275, then nearly 300. I set my new goal at 300 cards.

Photo by Umesh Soni on Unsplash

While house sitting, I started putting my return address on envelopes. I knew I needed to be ahead of the game if I was going to get 300 cards mailed before December 17, the deadline the USPS gave for mailing first class items for arrival before Christmas. I decided to go ahead and write a generic message and my signature in each card. I knew I could always write more later if I felt moved to do so.

When I returned to my southern desert home in early October, I was able to give the Christmas cards a rest. It was a good thing too, because a lot happened between then and Thanksgiving. A few days before Thanksgiving, when the Angel Card Project released the main list of people to send Christmas cards to, I was ready.

The list was 94 pages long and included 754 potential recipients! Stop a minute and let those numbers sink in.

A lot of people wonder how I decide what people on the list to send cards to. Honestly, I went with my gut. Each person on the list had a sentence or at most two telling about them and why they needed cards this year. I mostly sent cards to elderly people who live alone and/or far from most of their friends and families. I did send cards to some couples and kids, but I focused on elders who are alone.

I sent a card to everyone on the list who lives in New Mexico. That was an easy commonality to focus on. “I live in New Mexico too!” I wrote to those folks.

The reasons people need cards are heart wrenching. Kids are living with relatives because one parent is in prison and the other is strung out on drugs. Other kids are bullied, more than one to the point of being beat up. Several people are not just living far from family members, but are estranged from their families. It was stated for more than one elder that “all of his/her friends have died.” Many adults with developmental disabilities no longer have day programs to go to in the face of COVID and are sad to sit at home all day. Kids are sick. Adults are sick. Partners have died and relationships have fallen apart. The stories that hit me the hardest were the ones about people in my own age group. People ages 50 to 60 who are alone, lonely, depressed, sick…my heart aches for those folks because I can relate to them. We played with the same toys, watched the same TV shows, graduated from high school within a few years of each other, partied, danced, had children (or not), and now we are all growing old together, our bodies breaking down. How did this happen? It seems like only yesterday we were so young. (But I digress…)

Sometimes while writing holiday greetings, I cried for all of these people, the young and the old and us in the middle, and all of their pain. I kept going, though. What else was I going to do? I had 300 holiday cards, and they had to go somewhere. Besides, the people I was crying for didn’t know about my weeping. They needed cards not tears, so I kept working.

A few days after the list was out, the founder of the group started letting people post additional card requests to the Facebook page. These were requests that for whatever reason hadn’t made it on the main list. I read some of those requests and knew I needed to send more cards so I went to the thrift store and bought more.

I ended up writing 317 Christmas cards. About 10 of those were postcards and the rest were going out in envelopes. I mailed those out the Monday after Thanksgiving.

Was I satisfied? Heck no. When I got into bed that night, I thought about all those new requests going up on the Facebook group. Those requests were making me cry too. What if other volunteers focused on the list and the new requests didn’t get any attention? Before I went to sleep, I ordered 96 holiday postcards. I decided I’d send 6 of those each week until Christmas to people posted on the Facebook page. Whatever I don’t use this month, I’ll use next year.

When it’s all said and done, I’ll have sent out 335 Christmas cards to people I don’t know and probably never will.

Like so much of what I do, I didn’t…couldn’t…do this alone. Here’s where my Thankful Thursday comes in.

Thanks to Kerri, Shannan, Barbara H., and Mary who donated Christmas cards to my cause. Over 100 of the cards I sent out were from those four gals. Ten or so of the holiday postcards I mailed came from Russ, donated by two anonymous winners of Art Throw Down contests who donated their winnings of postcards to me. I appreciate those cards and postcards very much

As mentioned before, my sibling donated washi tape for decorating envelopes. Also, there were stickers in the big box of Christmas that Shannan sent. Thanks go out to both of these fine people. The cards I sent wouldn’t have been nearly as cute if I hadn’t had these decorating supplies.

Of course, the big expense in all of this was the stamps. Did you know a first class postage stamp now costs 58 cents? Yikes! Big thanks to Frank, Jessica, Coyote Sue, Ayun, and Barbara B. who donated stamps or money to buy them. My appreciation is immense.

Photo by Ignacio R on Unsplash

As always, I have the pleasure of thanking the folks who support me on Patreon: Keith, Theresa, Nancy, Rena, Muriel, and Laura-Marie. I also have the pleasure of thanking Shannan who has an automatic payment set up with PayPal so I get financial support from her every month.

Big thanks also go to Brent who sent me a gift via PayPal in November and the friend who recently came into some money and insisted on buying me a fabulous new touch screen 2-in-1 laptop. This is my first blog post using the new laptop.

Wondering what you can do to support me? If you have any extra Christmas cards (or other greeting cards or postcards) lying around your house, I would gladly accept them for my uplifting cards to strangers work. If you want to send me stamps (or money earmarked for buying stamps), I would be glad to have postcard, first class, or international postage.

If you want to support me in general, please consider joining me on Patreon. If you join my Patreon club, you get content that other folks never see. I post photos and updates on my life every couple of days on my Patreon account. Depending on what level you offer support, you might get other gifts from me like a sticker, a bracelet, or even a collage. A donation of even $2 a month will get you access to patron-only content. To join me on Patreon, just click the “Become a patron” button at the top of the column to the right.

You can also set up a automatic monthly donation through PayPal.

To make a one-time donation, click on the donate button in the column to the right. It will take you to PayPal but you don’t need a PayPal account to donate; you can use a credit or or debit card to make your donation.

I understand if you can’t make a monetary contribution. I appreciate you reading my words. I’d also appreciate it if you would tell your friends about this blog. Share posts you particularly like. Follow me on Facebook and like my pages too. I can be found on Facebook on the Rubber Tramp Artist page, the Blaizin’ Sun Creations page and the Blaize Sun page. I’d really love for you to write recommendations on those pages. And don’t forget I’m on Instagram (my most active social media account) @rubbertrampartist.

Warm wishes on Winter Solstice! Happy Festivus! Merry Christmas! Happy Boxing Day! Have a blessed Kwanzaa! If you celebrate Hanukkah, I hope it was wonderful.

Happy New Year to us all! Thank you for all you do.

Christmas Hitchhiker Part 2 (Blog Post Bonus)

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Photo by Mel Poole on Unsplash

The Man got out of bed really early on Christmas morning. (He’s usually out of bed between 3am and 5am in the winter, so this was not unusual.) I woke up around 5am, and joined him in the living room. We opened a few little presents from each other and as well as the wrapped treats my sibling had sent in a big box. We ate miniature powdered donuts for breakfast, watched the sun rise through the east-facing window, and spent some quiet time together.

Around 10am, we decided to watch A Christmas Story on the DVD I’d given The Man that morning. I needed something from the truck before we started watching, so I put on my boots and trudged through the snow.

Once at the truck, I grabbed the thing I needed (I no longer remember what it was), then glanced over to the backseat. On the passenger side of the backseat was a green backpack. I didn’t own a green backpack. At the time I owned a purple backpack and black backpack decorated with red and orange flames and a blue backpack, but not a green one. As far as I knew, The Man didn’t own a green backpack either.

About that time I realized I didn’t see the blue backpack I normally kept in the truck. The blue pack was stuffed with hats I made and wanted to sell. There wasn’t room for the backpack in our tiny trailer, and I only needed the hats in it when I was selling at a flea market or craft fair, so I left the bulging thing in the truck. But where was it?

I rummaged through everything I could reach on the driver’s side of the truck. No blue backpack. I walked over to the passenger’s side of the truck to rummage through the things on that side. No blue backpack either–only the green one.

A wave of realization passed slowly over me. Had last night’s hitchhiker left her backpack and taken mine?

I opened the smallest, outermost pocket on the green backpack. Right on top I saw a debit card with a women’s name on it, a set of keys, and a flip phone. Oh no! I opened the main pocket and saw, among other things, a block of Tillamook cheddar. Oh no! This was serious! We had the woman’s cheese!

I went back into the trailer.

We have a problem, I told The Man. I explained my backpack was gone and a backpack holding important things (keys, phone, debit card, cheese) was in its place.

Go get her phone, The Man suggested. He thought we could call someone on her contact list and let them know we had the hitchhiker’s belongings. Good idea!

Photo by Fabrizio Conti on Unsplash

I went back out into the snow and sunshine and grabbed her phone. Once inside again, The Man flipped the phone open and looked at the phone log. Most of the calls had been made to one number. The Man said we should call that one.

He dialed, then handed the phone to me. A fellow answered after a couple of rings.

Good morning, I said, feeling awkward. I told him my name and explained how the night before my guy and I had picked up a hitchhiker. I mentioned the name I’d seen on the debit card.

That’s my mother! he exclaimed.

I told him how we’d driven her almost home and that I’d just discovered my bag missing and her pack (filled with important items) in our truck. I told him we wanted to get her bag back to her but because she’d had us drop her off down the road from her house, we didn’t know where exactly we should go with the pack. Of course, because she didn’t have her phone, we couldn’t call her and arrange to meet.

Photo by Lee Jeffs on Unsplash

The son said he would text his mother’s neighbor’s phone number to me. He thought maybe the neighbor could help. He thanked me for calling, and we wished each other a merry Christmas before saying goodbye.

In a few moments a text with a name and phone number came to my phone. That must be the neighbor, I thought.

I called the number and started another awkward conversation with another stranger. After I explained everything, the neighbor sighed and said his family had given the hitchhiker a lot of help in the past, and they were, frankly, burnt out.

It’s Christmas morning, my brother’s here, we’re about to eat breakfast, he told me.

I was a little stunned. I realized not everyone was as excited about getting the woman’s backpack to her as The Man and I were.

I suggested the neighbor contact me later when he wasn’t so busy. He said he would think on the situation and try to figure out a way to help.I got off the phone and updated The Man. We agreed there was nothing we could do until we heard from the neighbor again.

The Man and I talked for a while, ate a few more Christmas treats, then decided to start the movie. He was hooking up the DVD player to the television when my phone rang. It was the hitchhiker’s neighbor. He’d decided the best course of action was for us to meet him at his house. He thought he should ride in our truck with us and direct us to the hitchhiker’s house. Once there we could simultaneously hand over her backpack and retrieve mine.

The neighbor had just begun to give me convoluted directions to his place when the hitchhiker’s phone began to ring. Hang on a second, I told the neighbor.

Answer it! Answer it! I directed while gesturing wildly at The Man.

He answered it while I explained to the neighbor what was happening.

The hitchhiker was on the phone. I could just barely hear her voice and understand what she was saying. It seemed that she’d found someone to let her use their phone so she could call hers.

Yes, we had her backpack, I heard The Man tell her. Yes, we could meet her on the road where we’d dropped her off the night before. We could even meet her at her house, he offered. She must have declined because he said, Are you sure? then Ok.

After flipping the phone shut, he told me the hitchhiker didn’t want us to go to her house. (I wasn’t surprised.) She wanted us to meet her on the road we’d driven down before we dropped her off.

Photo by Jason Abdilla on Unsplash

We put on our cold weather gear and headed to the truck. The Man drove. The bright sun hitting the white snow was blinding, and we both wore our sunglasses.

It was slow going on the bumpy main road. When we turned off onto the road where we’d meet the hitchhiker, the ride wasn’t any smoother.

There she is! I said when I saw the short woman wearing a puffy purple coat.

I waved, and she waved, and The Man brought the truck to a stop next to her. I got out of the truck and handed her backpack to her amid much thanks. She said she’d gotten home the night before and opened up (what she thought was) her backpack only to find–instead of her keys–a bunch of hats. That’s when she knew she had the wrong bag. She’d had to break into her own house since she didn’t have her keys, but she said it hadn’t been too difficult.

While the hitchhiker talked, I looked about her person for my backpack. She wasn’t holding it, and she didn’t seem to be wearing it on her back. Where could it be? Had she left it at home?

Do you have my backpack? I asked timidly.

She told me she had left it safely under a tree and pointed to one of the few in the area. I thought it was a little strange that she had abandoned my pack under a tree, but whatever. I would be happy to have my pack and my hats again.

I went to the tree she’d pointed out and looked around. No backpack.

I don’t see it, I called out to her.

Oh, maybe I left it under that one, she said.

I didn’t know how she could be confused about what tree she’d left the backpack under. There were only two in the area! I didn’t ask any questions, just walked down the road to the other tree. Yes! There was my pack, nestled in the snow at the base of the tree.

Thanks and Christmas wishes expressed, I got back in the truck and the hitchhiker went on her way, up the hill again.