Dear Friend,
Two weeks before I was paralyzed and almost died, I was laying rebar into a house foundation in blazing-hot August weather. I looked up at the sky and wondered:
“When am I going to be able to transition part-time or full-time to Tiny and Snail?”
My older sister Grace and I had started Tiny and Snail just a year earlier — designing greeting cards together after years of sharing a love for words and art.
Back then, it was still a side hustle — but one we hoped to grow into something more.
Then came the plot twist I never saw coming.
While I was at my day job building a house, a telehandler — a 22,000 lb. machine — FELL ON ME while we were putting up rafters. (I had been on the ground, holding on to the guide rope.)
When I woke up in the hospital — monitors beeping, unable to speak or wiggle my toes — I got my answer about when I’d leave my construction job: effective immediately.
I was completely and permanently paralyzed from the chest down.
When the doctors told me I was paralyzed, I spelled the only question that mattered into my sister Grace’s hand:
C A N I S T I L L D R A W ?
The answer was yes. And that meant everything.
At first, the story felt too weird to be true:
- A woman obsessed with drawing since the age of 3.
- A woman who also loved building houses.
- A telehandler falling just so — paralyzing my torso and legs, but sparing my brain and hands.
- I scraped out alive, but just barely.
I spent 29 days in the ICU. In some ways, it felt like greeting-card designer boot camp. My life had been shattered open, and all I had was art, words, and the people who showed up for me.
But oh how they showed up. 😍
Grace sent out a call on Instagram to our small but mighty band of followers. Waves of snail mail started flooding in: encouraging notes, handwritten prayers, cards filled with so much beauty and light. Some from people I knew, some from strangers.
These cards and packages poured into my hospital room and reminded me that life can still be beautiful, even in the darkest hours.
Not everyone is so lucky.
But for me, in that hospital bed, I felt super lucky. I was alive. I was loved. And I realized: I could finally be a full-time artist.
At least, when I had the time — because being a paraplegic is definitely a part-time job. 😬
In the seven years since we began, people have told us again and again: "No other cards have captured what I’m feeling as perfectly as yours do."
We believe that’s because these cards come from a place of lived experience: of beauty AND pain, resilience, and the sacredness of being alive.
After nearly dying and living with the daily challenges of paralysis and nerve pain, I’ve come to understand just how fragile life is.
And that makes expressing love, grief, celebration — everything — feel more urgent and more needed.
As musician Andy Grammer says, “Your biggest hardship is your superpower — because it gives you empathy.”
That’s the heart behind our cards. They’re written and illustrated with tenderness, honesty, and depth — for people who want to connect in a way that feels real instead of cheesy.
These cards are for those who feel deeply and want their words to carry weight.
For my kids, myself, and our community, it’s my dream for Tiny and Snail to be as sustainable as possible: emotionally, creatively, and environmentally.
I want to be doing this work for the rest of my life because I truly believe that, as humble as a handwritten note might be, each card has the power to change the future.
I believe the mission of Tiny and Snail is why my life was spared. (Ok, maybe along with becoming a mom. :)
As a paraplegic, I’m well aware that we don’t know how long we have here. None of us do. But I do know I want to spend that time making art. Telling stories. Creating connection.
That’s what this newsletter is all about:
Sharing life — the ups and the downs — and using art and words to bridge the space between us.
My hope is that we can help you reach out more to the people in your life. Whether you use a handmade card, a plain piece of paper, or one of ours, the act of writing to each other is powerful.
We’re here to inspire you to live a more beautiful, connected life.
That’s what Tiny and Snail is all about. 💛
P.S. Our Encouragement Cards and our Sympathy Cards are specifically the cards I know I wouldn't be creating without my spinal cord injury. If you know someone who needs some sympathy or encouragement, check out our options. Hopefully, you find a good card for them in our selection!
P.P.S. Have you experienced something that has helped you connect more deeply with others? I'd love to hear what your hard thing is and if it's made you a more empathetic person. (Or comment however you wish!)
8 comments
Dear Leah. Thank You for sharing your life changing story and photos again.
That devastating phone call from your Mom (my dear sister, Glenda)was something I will never forget.
Then getting out of ICU, and the months and months of rehab…
Each little milestone in your miraculous journey filled my heart with joy and Thanksgiving, that you were still with us!
I have always loved your cards and they have just gotten better and better!
Your spirit of determination and never giving up has been a gift to me.😊
Eight days ago I was in a freak gardening accident while voluneer gardening at the Marian Center in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada.
As result, my one toe was amputated. As I lay on that stretcher for hours in Emergency before surgery, all I could think of was you, dear Leah, and how insignificant loosing a toe was!!
How could I ever consider feeling sorry for myself!
You continue to inspire me, with your tenacity and love of life!
Blessings and love, Auntie Kathleen xo🙏💞
,
Remember me? Peanut’s mom (Guinness record world’s oldest chicken; I sent you the book). I identify with Sylva’s comment about invisible trauma. Childhood stuff. Abusive marriage. But surviving a bout of giant cell arteritis (GCA) 8 years ago was life-changing. I came inches from a stroke and blindness, and as an artist and writer, I feel exceptionally blessed to have been spared my sight, not to mention my life. I now empathize more than ever with people battling afflictions. I love your cards, I love you girls. I’ll continue to support you and spread the word as best I can. Keep on keeping on, and God bless you. ☺️🥰
I look at my “accident “ as a blessing too, though it took me a few years to develop that outlook. The elevator version of the story is I was diagnosed with MS so my husband and I decided to move our kids (then just 7 and 9 years old) back to the area where I grew up to be near family since the prognosis of MS is so uncertain. While living in my parents house looking for our own, our family was in a head on car collision which killed my husband and gave me a traumatic brain injury and left me in a coma for 10 weeks. That was 2014, and while it’s not easy, I continue to face life with patience and a smile most of the time. Sending beautiful tiny & snail cards absolutely makes my day and spreads some joy to those around me ❤️
I think the extra feature of my superpower is my intimate knowledge of how very invisible great challenges can be. I so appreciated the time I got to spend with you at Craig, where it was abundantly clear that there were some enormous challenges being faced, and it seemed like people made an effort to be gentle and patient (even if it made it feel like The Good Place sometimes), not all life changes are so visible. After my heart stopped for twenty minutes, no one in the months after who saw me standing in the school line might have guess how long I had lived without a heart beat, or that my ribs and sternum were broken, my heart now ruled by a computer in my chest. With my January long-sleeves, you couldn’t see all the stab marks in my arms from medics and doctors trying to find their way into a deflated vein with life-saving medicine, or the hole from the central line that fed me while I was chemically paralyzed, intubated, and refrigerated. I looked. . . just like I always looked. The people who had heard about what happened, who were lifting prayers in those hours when we didn’t know whether my kindergartners or one-year-old would have a mama. . . they opened up to me about their own stories and there were so many struggles and heartaches and hard battles I wouldn’t have known about. I don’t always succeed at this, but I try to remember that the people I encounter in the world may be facing challenges I know nothing about, and that kindness costs so little compared to its value.
Hi Leah. I’m so glad that you know you are blessed to feel the warmth of the sun on your face every day. You understand the gift of moments of beauty each day- whether it be with your children, your Beloved or one of your customers telling you how much your cards mean to us when we send them to our loved ones…knowing the ones we’ve saved…for the exact right occasion…are SO perfect. My elderly cousin was has been devastated after losing her dog of 12 years, now alone in the silence of her small home. I had run out of sympathy cards, but when I looked through the stacks of Tiny and Snail art…the rainbow card immediately stood out. How perfect? We all know our beloved animals cross that bridge. My cousin was so touched with your card and my loving note, she wrote and mailed me a thank you! This just brought it home for me, what I’ve always felt…that you and I are a team. Through your art and my words…you help me speak to my loved ones in both the joyous and sad times on this journey we’re on here in Earth School. Many thanks, as always, Monica