It’s my first linky party, y’all! What does that mean? I want to hear your stories. So, anytime in February, write a post about how mending or making has changed your life or someone else’s. The change doesn’t have to be big. (Though if it is, who am I to stop you?)

Maybe you’ll make a note for your kid’s lunchbox, and it’ll bring a smile to her face. Perhaps you’ll take a step toward mending a habit you’d like to repair. Or maybe you’ll tell about a project that’s making a difference in your community. Who knows? You might even make a craft project out of an item that needs mending. Regardless, share a story about changing life for the better.

Sure, the graphic says “mend you, make stuff,” but you can interpret the theme however you want.

By all means, be liberal with your interpretation. Post a photo, write a poem, dream up a fiction piece, or write a straightforward post. Whatever you do, don’t worry about perfection. Just take part in the conversation.

Then, every Wednesday during February, I’ll write a round-up featuring some of your (sure-to-be inspiring) posts.

 JUMP IN. HERE’S HOW.

• Get into the spirit of encouraging others, taking care of yourself, and making stuff.
• Anytime in February, write a post on the theme.
• When your post is ready, go to the Mend, Make, Change Link-Up Page add your entry.
• Then, read at least two posts from your fellow party contributors.
• Pick your fave post from a fellow party-goer, then share it generously on your social media of choice.
• Check back here on Wednesdays in February. I’ll write a round-up of the stories submitted that week.
• If you have questions or recommendations, shoot me an email or a write a comment. (Remember, this is the first time I’ve done this, so I’m open to suggestions.)

TIPS FOR YOUR POST:

• Use original content throughout your post. I know you know this.
• The point is dialogue, so don’t link to giveaways or anything you’re selling.
• Go ahead. Have fun.

“I need your help .  . . without you, I don’t know how to be me.” This post, addressed from a mother to her daughter, came across my Facebook feed this past October. Less than two months earlier this daughter, the mother’s only child, had passed away from leukemia, just shy of her 14th birthday.

Say what you will about the coldness of online communication, but here was a case where technology was no shield for human emotion. Grief spilled through the keys and could be felt, in every direction, for miles and miles and miles.

Here’s a project you can do for somebody who’s grieving. Several months ago, I pinned this Altoid-tin upcycle project from Junk & Stuff, hoping to try it soon. Now I’ve finally had the chance to make this, my own interpretation.

In the weeks following, I became repeatedly humbled by this particular mama’s ability to open herself up. She sprinkled her feed with photos and dreams and stories and laments. I happen to be a believer in vulnerability, so I quietly cheered her on for having the guts to express herself so candidly. (She owed the rest of us nothing, of course. All grief is personal, and nobody but the person living it gets determine what feelings need to arise, when, or how.)

Still: Oh, how I wish we could all learn to “craft love from heartbreak,” as researcher-storyteller Brene Brown outlines in her 2-minute video, Manifesto to the Brave and Brokenhearted. I’m grateful for Brown’s relentless work in encouraging us all to embrace vulnerability more.

Choose what you want to say, then make them into tiny cards that fit in the tin. I made these by cutting up old postcards and fabric, then attaching them to each other with Mod Podge.

Last month, another friend published a Facebook post about grief. This time, it was a poem about how she’d moved through mourning over the course of several years. Fortunately, she later posted the piece, What I’ve Learned About Grief, on her blog Sheri Hoeger’s Art to Live By. Hoeger’s words inspired me right away, as she’d managed to verbalize things I wouldn’t have thought to say myself.

I chose to make each card different. Grief expresses itself differently on different days, so why not reflect that in the cards?

So, as I’d undertaken before during a friend’s hardship, I did the only thing I knew how: I made something with my hands. Hoeger’s words struck me as a great match for the keepsake-box project that had been swimming in my brain ever since glimpsing the tutorial I’d found online.

Perhaps what struck me most about Hoeger’s piece was that that its paragraphs didn’t necessarily have to be absorbed in linear fashion. Rather, its segments could be cut apart and savored, one by one. They could be placed on cards, each decorated with its own special fabric. Like memories of a loved one, the words could be delivered in fragments that have no chronology.

Feel free to express your grief, or not, however is right for you on any given day.

My hope was that the recipient of my comfort box (yes, the mother from earlier in this story) could choose to take in Hoeger’s bits of comfort as she felt ready. Sometimes she might feel moved to read them all. Other days, she might respond to just one. Who knew? Maybe she’d feel compelled to put a little card in her purse as a secret special reminder, just for an afternoon.

Regardless, it felt good to make it. Perhaps it was a partly selfish act, my own vain attempt DO SOMETHING about a situation I can’t control. I love words and all, but sometimes my brain comes up short, and my hands are the only ones who can take over and create.

If you’re experiencing grief this holiday season, I hope you know it’s okay to be patient with yourself. I hope you know your vulnerability isn’t weakness (thank you, Brene Brown), and that you can find the courage to express it however is right for you. I hope somehow, some way, this day, this night–whatever your individual story may be–you can find a tiny box of comfort of your own.

(Photo by me.)

Okay, that may be a slight exaggeration. Who knows what kind of romance is happening on white boards throughout the Minneapolis – St. Paul metro? Either way, the one at our place has to be up there, as far as dry-erase relationships go.

It started as a simple craft project, another of my attempts to surround myself with pretty things (a little less ugly, at least). Going through a discarded box, my man dug up an old white board. “How about we hang this in the kitchen?” he asked. I liked the idea, but the crafty part of my soul died just a little. White boards are practical and all, but, what can I say? Aesthetics matter to an artsy type like me.

Speaking of which, you’ll have to excuse me for breaking one of my self-imposed blog rules. No care was taken to ensure quality lighting or good composition in a single photo here. Oh well, sometimes you just have to live with it.

These are just two regular picture frames. For the dry erase, I put fabric where the poster would go. This process is easy peasy, and I highly recommend doing this yourself! It’s a great way to transform a dull whiteboard into cute custom wall art! Unfortunately the bulletin board turned out to be way more work. I added foam core, lined it with fabric, and removed the glass. Getting the thickness just right took tons of trial and error, as the foam core wasn’t designed to fit inside the frame. If you try this yourself, I recommend getting foam core of various thicknesses, then seeing which works best.

What happened next was a bit of a surprise. The white  fabric-lined gold board became a vehicle for sweetness. If you’re anything like me, exotic gestures aren’t your kind of romance. Instead, it’s everyday thoughtfulness that makes your heart flutter. Our silly conversations, along with diagrams and drawings (of course), are what I enjoy about the board.

Jan. 23, 2014.

June 6, 2014.

July 23, 2014.

August 19, 2014.

August 30, 2014. He’d just returned from a trip. Note how he changed my writing to a goofy non-word.

Sept. 9, 2014. The super moon WAS super cool.

Oct. 10, 2014

Oct. 31, 2014

March 4, 2014. A day I shoveled the driveway.

I once took a personality test that revealed my greatest fear is being without orientation in life. Can you see how my man’s guiding tendencies are a good match for me? Also, who else thinks maybe I ought to make more of an effort to help out around the house? Evidently he’d appreciate it. Here’s how the mail game works, by the way: Whoever gets the most junk mail, has to put it all in the recycling bin.

Sure, the bulletin board isn’t nearly as fun. It’s kind of hideous, actually, covered in coupons and who knows what. Still, it’s the little things that make me smile. Some fabric and a small bit of effort, ended up creating one of my favorite items in the house.

What about you? What’s something in your home that brings unexpected joy?