Heartache in Gnifferland

I am blessed beyond words, and so many ways that it would be pointless to attempt to list them all out in this post, so I'll just speak to one. My gnomes. Though this blog is usually focused on my girls, I feel like I need to get this out. I suppose it's fitting because it's my gnomes that have made this blog slip a bit, but that's besides the point.

Gniffer's Gnomes has taken off and has established such success that I'm still in shock over it. My fans love the gnomes because they give them a tiny pick-me-up and are always looking for ways to make the garden a better place. The demand for my tiny fuzzy gnomes and their personalized stories is so great that sometimes it's hard for me to maintain my enthusiasm because the feeling of constantly being "behind" and never being able to catch up threatens my ability to stay positive.

But then there are the reactions I get from people. It seems that these tiny gnomes have brought so many tears to people's eyes in the last year and a half. Yes, I've made more than my fair share of people cry, though they've mostly been happy tears (I hope). There is just enough in their stories to make a person feel really loved and cherish.

It's magic. And it keeps me motivated to bring as many gnomes to life as possible.

However, in recent weeks I've experienced some difficult times in Gnifferland, and it's for reasons that I was not prepared to deal with. I've dealt with people complaining about the long wait list, or the prices, or even not getting the details right. Those are easy hurdles to move past.

Though most gnome stories are uplifting and bring a smile to one's face, there have been some difficult topics that I've had to address as well. Sometimes one might make the argument that someone with an illness is in MOST need of a gnome to lift their spirits. I've been secretly proud of my ability to handle such sad and serious situations in a way that still keeps with the light-hearted character of a gnome.

But now enough time has passed that I have been faced with reality.

Last year I made this set (Bushels of Hope)for a family whose Daddy was suffering from a rare type of cancer. The thought was that they would each have a gnome to keep them company while Daddy stayed in the hospital for long durations. Sometimes Mommy would stay at the hospital with Daddy, and sometimes she would stay home with their little girl. A year and a half later I saw a status update on my friend's FB page, saying she was at her friend's funeral. "Nothing more crushing than hearing his 5 yr old daughter crying during the service."

And I found I was lost for words.

Earlier this year I made these two gnomes. What started out as a simple Gnome Give Away Contest for Patches, ended up with me making one for the winner's (a 5 year old little girl who suffers from brain cancer) little 3 year old sister as well (Patches #1 Fan). On the very same day as when I found out the fate of "Daddy" from above, I learned that Patches' Mommy had to make the decision that no parent should ever have to make. The had decided to stop treatment and let their beautiful girl live the rest of her life as pain-free as possible.

Again I was lost for words, though I knew my heart felt overwhelmed with powerful emotions. I managed to bottle it up until I saw a new update today.

Her Mommy wrote:
"the docs asked me if it came to it if i would want her incubated and have them try everything possible to save her...my answer was NO, i do not want her on a tube where she cannot talk, i want her to be able to say she loves us if she is dying i want to be selfish enough to say i want to hear her last words to me dammit."

OH. MY. GOD. As a Mommy myself, this brutally honest sentiment is beyond powerful.

I did not ever have any direct contact with either of these people. In fact, I never once heard from them, nor did I expect to. I've always feared that my well intentions might be taken as an insult. After all, how can I expect a tiny 2" felted wool critter cure cancer?? How can a firm chuck of wool, no matter how cute it may be, help in such a sad situation???

No, I didn't know these people. Nor did I really expect my gnomes to cure cancer. However, for the day or two in which I was creating each of their gnomes, I gave them my heart. I put my heart and soul into their situation, even if just for a short period of time. They touched me. They may not know who I am, but I feel like they have become a part of who I am.

And so I guess it makes sense for me to feel a significant loss right now. My heart goes out to these families, whether they know it or not.

Again, I am so blessed in an infinite number of ways, in spite of Gnifferland being touched by heartache.