Random Acts of Knitting and Crochet Kindness: My Favorite Izzys
There is something quietly revolutionary about leaving a handmade item in a public place for a stranger to find. No transaction, no expectation of thanks, no way to even know if anyone picked it up. Just a small woolen thing sitting on a park bench or tucked under a windshield wiper, waiting. If you have spent any time in the knitting and crochet community, you have probably heard of this practice, and if you have been lucky enough to stumble across one of these gifts yourself, you already know the particular kind of warmth it sends through your chest. This post is my love letter to random acts of yarn kindness, and more specifically, to the tiny crocheted and knitted figures known as Izzys that have become one of my favorite ways to participate in this beautiful tradition.
What Are Random Acts of Knitting and Crochet Kindness?
The concept is simple, though its impact is anything but. A maker crafts something with their own hands, then leaves it somewhere for a stranger to discover. The item might be a small stuffed animal, a tiny hat, a pair of fingerless mitts, a cozy for a coffee cup, or a miniature character with a cheerful face. Attached to the item is usually a small tag or note explaining that the finder is meant to keep it, that it was made with love and left on purpose, and often pointing them toward a community online where they can share the story of their find.
These acts spread in loose, organic networks. Someone finds a gift, posts about it in a Facebook group, and suddenly fifty other people are inspired to make something and leave it somewhere. A ripple goes out, and the pond never quite goes back to still.
The Facebook group “Random acts of Knitting and Crochet kindness | My favorite Izzys” is one of the most vibrant corners of this movement. It is a place where makers share what they have created, where finders share the joy of their discovery, and where the whole community gathers to celebrate the idea that a bit of yarn and a little time can genuinely make a stranger’s day.
Who or What Is an Izzy?
If you are new to this particular corner of the fiber arts world, you might be wondering what an Izzy is. The term refers to a specific style of small crocheted or knitted figure, usually amigurumi-inspired, designed to be left as a random act of kindness. Izzys are typically small enough to hold in one hand, adorably simple in construction, and finished with personality-packed details like button eyes, tiny scarves, or miniature accessories.
The name itself has become a kind of shorthand within the community for any small handmade figure left as a gift for a stranger. Over time, different makers have developed their own signature styles, their own color palettes, their own little design quirks, and the variety is extraordinary. Some Izzys are round little gnomes. Some are tiny bears with stitched smiles. Some are seasonal, dressed for Halloween or Christmas or the first day of spring. Some are entirely abstract little creatures that seem to have arrived from a friendlier dimension.
What ties them all together is the intention behind them. An Izzy is not made to be sold or shown off in a competition. It is made to be given away to someone who has no idea it is coming.
Why I Love Leaving Izzys
I started making Izzys about two years ago after I came across the Facebook group and spent an embarrassingly long time scrolling through photos of what other people had made and left. I kept thinking, I can do this. I know how to crochet. I have yarn. What am I waiting for?
The first one I made was a little round bear in a dusty blue yarn I had left over from a blanket project. I gave him a tiny scarf in orange because the colors made me happy, sewed on two black button eyes, and tucked a small printed card inside a little cellophane bag with him explaining that he was free for the finding. Then I drove to a local coffee shop, ordered a drink I didn’t really need, sat for a while, and left him on the windowsill when I walked out.
I have no idea who found him. I never will. That not-knowing is actually part of what I love about it.
There is a kind of ego-release in making something with care and then just… letting it go. So much of what we create in life is tied to outcomes. We want feedback, recognition, acknowledgment. With an Izzy, you get none of that unless someone happens to find the group and posts about their discovery. You make the thing, you leave the thing, and then you move on. The joy has to be self-contained. It lives in the making and the leaving, not in the finding out.
And yet, when someone does post about finding one of my Izzys, or when I see posts from other people sharing discoveries, the happiness is almost overwhelming. It is proof that a five-inch crocheted bear sitting on a windowsill can genuinely brighten a person’s morning.
My Favorite Izzys from the Group
The “My Favorite Izzys” Facebook group has given me years of inspiration, and some of the creations I have seen there have genuinely stopped me mid-scroll. Let me tell you about a few of the styles and themes that have stayed with me.
Seasonal and holiday Izzys are always a highlight. The autumn ones especially get me — tiny pumpkin figures in harvest oranges and deep greens, little scarecrows with yarn hair, miniature ghosts with sweet embroidered expressions. When someone posts a photo of a Halloween Izzy left on a cemetery fence or a Thanksgiving gnome propped up outside a grocery store, there is something perfectly right about it.
Bookstore and library Izzys make me particularly happy. Leaving a tiny handmade figure tucked between books on a shelf at a used bookstore, or nestled on the return cart at a public library, feels like exactly the right marriage of two kinds of magic. The people who find them in those spaces are already people who believe in the power of stories and made things. It feels like a secret handshake between strangers.
Hospital and care facility drops are perhaps the most moving to read about. Members of the group sometimes arrange with staff to leave Izzys in waiting rooms, pediatric wards, or common areas in nursing homes. A small crocheted animal left in a chemotherapy waiting room for a child to find, a tiny cheerful figure sitting on a table in a memory care common room — these stories always make me catch my breath. The scale of the object versus the scale of the comfort it might offer is almost absurd. And yet it works. People post about these drops with a particular kind of tenderness, and the response in the comments is always enormous.
Travel and transportation Izzys are another favorite theme. Leaving a small figure on an airport seat, tucking one into the seatback pocket of a bus, setting one on the ledge of a train car window — there is something beautiful about imagining a tired traveler, already a little disoriented by the in-between-ness of being in transit, suddenly finding a small, cheerful, handmade creature keeping them company. Several members have developed a tradition of making Izzys specifically for travel days, keeping them in their carry-ons or bags so they are always ready to leave one behind.
Themed and fandom Izzys also bring incredible creativity out of the group. Someone will design a tiny crocheted figure clearly inspired by a beloved character — not a licensed reproduction, but a lovingly suggested version, a little purple wizard or a small creature with oversized ears — and leave it somewhere they think a fellow fan might find it. These feel like little messages in bottles sent out into a fandom, hoping the right person will discover them.
The Craft Behind the Kindness
One of the things I appreciate most about this community is how seriously people take the craft. These are not sloppy, rushed objects. The makers in this group put real skill and care into their Izzys, even knowing the item will be left for a stranger. In some ways, knowing it is for a stranger makes people more careful, not less. There is an accountability in anonymity, a desire to give your best work even when no one will know your name.
Most Izzys are made with worsted or bulky weight yarn on a small hook, which allows for a denser fabric that holds its shape well. Stuffing is done carefully so the figures are firm and satisfying to hold. Eyes are sewn or glued on with attention to placement, because the eyes are everything in a small amigurumi — the difference between a creature that feels alive and one that just feels like a ball of yarn.
Many makers in the group have also put thought into durability and safety. If an Izzy is being left where a small child might find it, button eyes are sometimes replaced with safety eyes or embroidered eyes to eliminate any choking hazard. The little tag or note is weather-proofed if the figure is being left outdoors. People think about these things because they care about who might be on the receiving end.
How to Get Involved
If any of this has made you want to pick up a hook or needles and join in, here is the good news: there is almost no barrier to entry.
You do not need to be an advanced crafter. Simple spheres and ovals assembled into little creatures are entirely within reach for beginners, and there are dozens of free patterns circulating within the group and on sites like Ravelry and the various free pattern boards on Pinterest. A small Izzy can be completed in an evening, sometimes in an afternoon if you are quick with your hook.
You do not need expensive materials. Many makers use stash yarn — the odds and ends left over from other projects that are too small to use for anything large but perfect for a palm-sized figure. This is part of what makes the whole movement so accessible. Your leftover half-skein of yellow and that tiny bit of red you never knew what to do with can become a cheerful little sun figure sitting on a park bench by Saturday.
You do not need a plan for where to leave it. Drop spots reveal themselves naturally once you start looking. You start noticing the little ledge by the coffee shop door. The gap in the bookcase at the library where it would nestle perfectly. The arm of the bench at the bus stop where someone waits every morning. Once you are making Izzys, you begin to see the world as a collection of small stages waiting for small performers.
Joining the Facebook group is free and the community is welcoming. It is the kind of online space that can actually restore your faith in social media — full of encouragement, shared patterns, drop reports, and the particular joy people feel when they post about leaving something and then watch the comments celebrate with them.
A Few Tips from My Own Experience
After two years of making and leaving Izzys, I have learned a few things worth passing along.
Make your tags waterproof, or at least water-resistant. A laminated card or a tag slipped inside a small plastic sleeve will hold up far better than a plain paper tag, especially if you are leaving your Izzy outdoors. Nothing diminishes the magic of finding a handmade gift like a tag that has gone completely illegible in the rain.
Keep a small supply made up in advance. If you only make one at a time and then go looking for a drop spot, you lose momentum. If you have three or four sitting in a bag ready to go, every outing becomes a potential drop opportunity.
Use your color instincts. The Izzys that photograph best and seem to get the most enthusiastic responses in the group tend to be ones with unexpected, bold color combinations. Do not feel like you need to be realistic. A neon green bear with a purple scarf is more memorable than a brown one.
Include a note that is warm but not overwhelming. The person who finds your Izzy is probably surprised and a little uncertain about what they have found. A simple message — something like “This was made for you. Keep it, pass it on, or leave it for someone else to find” — gives them enough context without turning a small gift into a complicated situation.
The Bigger Picture
At the risk of over-philosophizing a crocheted animal, I do think there is something worth examining in why this movement resonates so deeply.
We live in a time when so much human interaction is transactional, digital, and mediated by algorithms. The random act of knitting and crochet kindness movement runs deliberately counter to all of that. It is analog. It is slow. It is irreversible — you cannot take back a gift you have left on a windowsill. It requires trust, both from the maker (that someone will find it and be glad) and from the finder (that the thing is exactly what it appears to be, a small gift from a stranger who asked for nothing back).
There is also something meaningful about the object itself being handmade. A purchased gift left for a stranger would be kind. A handmade one is something different. It carries hours inside it, decisions about color and shape and size, the physical memory of hands working in the evening while something played in the background, the specific attention of one person to one small thing. A stranger receives not just an object but a record of someone’s time and care.
The Facebook group “Random acts of Knitting and Crochet kindness | My favorite Izzys” has built a community around this understanding. Every post there is a small argument that kindness is worth the effort, that strangers deserve to be surprised and delighted, that a skein of yarn and an evening and a park bench can constitute a meaningful act.
I believe all of that. I believe it every time I leave one and walk away, resisting the urge to look back and see if anyone is picking it up. I believe it every time I scroll through the group and see someone posting a photo of something tiny and handmade and full of color with a comment that just says found this today and needed it.
If you are a maker, I hope you will join us. If you are not yet a maker, I hope you will become one. And if you have ever found a small strange creature on a bench or a library shelf and wondered where it came from — now you know. Someone made it for you, specifically and impersonally, with complete goodwill and no expectation of anything at all. You were just the lucky person who happened to walk by.
That is the whole beautiful point.
