Lovely Valentine the Elf

Some elves are good at making toys.

Some are good at baking.

Some are good at wrapping presents.

Me?

I noticed people.

If somebody was sitting alone...

I noticed.

If somebody needed a hug...

I noticed.

If two elves obviously liked each other but neither one would say anything...

Oh, I definitely noticed.

So I started helping.

A little note here.

A cookie there.

A carefully arranged “accidental” meeting beside the hot chocolate.

Nothing complicated.

Just a few...

idears.

Yes.

Idears.

I have lots of them.

Eventually people started coming to me for advice.

“Lovely, do you think they like me?”

“Lovely, what should I say?”

“Lovely, should I send a card?”

“Lovely, was three dozen roses too many?”

Yes.

Three dozen was too many.

Usually.

That’s when I realized the North Pole needed a matchmaker.

So I appointed myself.

I made a little sign:

NORTH POLE MATCHMAKER

Santa saw it.

He said:

“Did I approve this position?”

I said:

“You approve love, don’t you?”

Santa said:

“Well... yes.”

I said:

“Perfect. We’re official.”

And that was that.

But matchmaking taught me something.

Not everybody was looking for romance.

Somebody might be missing a friend.

Somebody might be homesick.

Somebody might want somebody to play with.

Somebody might just be having a bad day.

Sometimes a heart isn’t looking for the one.

Sometimes it’s just looking for...

someone.

So I started keeping an eye out for what I called the Lonely Hearts.

Not because there was anything wrong with them.

Quite the opposite.

A lonely heart is simply a heart with a little extra room in it.

Room for a friend.

Room for kindness.

Room for a pet.

Room for somebody new.

And I had...

idears.

Lots of idears.

This is where things got complicated.

Cats.

Dogs.

Reindeer.

The occasional rabbit.

And one extremely confident Old English Sheepdog.

Animals understand love better than most of us.

A dog doesn’t care if your hair looks good.

A cat...

actually, a cat might.

But that’s different.

Pets don’t need fancy presents.

Sometimes they just want you to sit beside them.

Or throw the ball.

Again.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Dogs are very committed to an idear.

So I started helping the furry friends too.

That’s how my job became:

DIRECTOR OF HUGS, KISSES & FURRY FRIENDS.

It’s a long title.

I wanted it on a business card.

The printer asked if we could shorten it.

No.

Count Barkula believes he understands romance.

He does not.

One day I asked him what he thought made a perfect match.

He said:

“Same dinner time.”

I said:

“Barkula, there’s more to love than dinner.”

He thought about it.

Then he said:

“Same walk time?”

We’re working on it.

He does have beautiful hair.

I’ll give him that.

People started telling me things they wished for.

Not just Valentine's wishes.

Real wishes.

“I wish my friend lived closer.”

“I wish somebody would play with me.”

“I wish my dog could come everywhere.”

“I wish my family could all be together.”

“I wish somebody knew I was thinking about them.”

Those wishes mattered.

So I started collecting them.

Not because I could make every wish come true.

I can’t.

Even Santa can’t do everything.

But sometimes when you tell somebody what your heart is hoping for...

it feels a little lighter.

And sometimes another person can help.

That’s when I learned:

A wish doesn’t always need magic.

Sometimes...

it needs somebody who cares.

Of course, I needed a scientific way to measure all this love.

So I invented the Heart-O-Meter.

Is it scientifically accurate?

Absolutely.

According to me.

It measures extremely important things.

Hugs.

Kindness.

Friendship.

Furry-friend affection.

Secret crushes.

Not-so-secret crushes.

And occasionally...

how much somebody loves cookies.

Ginger scores very high.

The Heart-O-Meter has only one problem.

Sometimes it goes completely off the scale.

That usually means one of three things:

Christmas.

Puppies.

Or somebody just did something really kind.

Naturally, Valentine’s Day is a big day for me.

Very big.

Huge.

There are hearts everywhere.

Cards everywhere.

Hugs everywhere.

I have a calendar.

I have missions.

I have matchmaking.

I have wishes.

I have...

idears.

But every February I have to remind everyone:

Valentine’s Day isn’t only for couples.

You can love your parents.

Your grandparents.

Your kids.

Your friends.

Your pets.

Your neighbours.

Your favourite teacher.

Your favourite elf.

Yourself.

You can even love somebody who drives you absolutely crazy.

That one is advanced love.

Ask Santa about Jack.

Of course I count down to Valentine’s Day.

Fourteen days.

Fourteen Lovely Missions.

Fourteen chances to put a little more love into the world.

And every four years somebody says:

“Lovely! February has an extra day!”

I know.

Leap year.

That’s not a problem.

That’s a bonus.

One extra day to love somebody.

Honestly, I think February should do it every year.

I’ve submitted the paperwork.

Holly Wood and I have a professional arrangement.

I handle the hearts.

She handles the stars.

I Favourite.

She Rates.

Sometimes we disagree.

Holly says:

“Five stars.”

I say:

“Five hearts.”

Holly says:

“Stars.”

I say:

“Hearts.”

Eventually we compromised.

Love me or Rate me.

Very professional.

People still ask me:

“Lovely, what makes a perfect match?”

I used to think I needed an answer.

Same interests?

Same hobbies?

Same favourite Christmas cookie?

Those things can help.

But I’ve learned something.

A perfect match isn’t always two people who are exactly alike.

Sometimes it’s two people who make each other laugh.

Sometimes it’s somebody who listens.

Sometimes it’s somebody who shows up.

Sometimes it’s a kid and a dog.

Sometimes it’s two old friends.

Sometimes...

the perfect match is simply finding somebody who needed exactly the kindness you had to give.

That’s my favourite kind.

Although matching somebody who loves cats with somebody who owns twelve cats is also extremely satisfying.

Love doesn’t always look like a heart-shaped box.

Sometimes love looks like:

Saving somebody a seat.

Sharing your cookie.

Calling somebody just because.

Helping without being asked.

Saying “I’m sorry.”

Saying “I missed you.”

Saying “You can sit with us.”

Taking the dog for a walk when it’s freezing outside.

Even though the dog somehow takes forty-five minutes to choose exactly the right snowbank.

Love can be big.

Love can be tiny.

But the tiny stuff...

adds up.

I can’t make everybody fall in love.

And I wouldn’t want to.

That’s not really what being the North Pole Matchmaker means.

My job is simpler.

I look for hearts with a little room.

Then I look for something good to put there.

A friend.

A hug.

A laugh.

A wish.

A furry face.

A little kindness.

Because nobody should have to wonder whether they matter.

Everybody does.

And sometimes...

they just need somebody to remind them.

I’m Lovely Valentine.

Director of Hugs, Kisses & Furry Friends.

North Pole Matchmaker.

Keeper of Lonely Hearts.

Inventor of the Heart-O-Meter.

Friend to cats.

Friend to dogs.

Friend to anybody who could use one.

I have a lot of love.

And even more...

idears.

But if you remember only one thing about me, remember this:

There’s more than one kind of love.

And no matter who you are...

there’s some with your name on it.

If you see somebody who could use a smile...

give them one.

If somebody needs a friend...

be one.

If your pet wants a hug...

that’s easy.

And if you’re the one who could use a little love today...

come sit with us.

There’s room.

There’s always room.

Because at the North Pole...

every heart belongs.

With love,

Lovely. ❤️