I had an interesting opportunity come up this week that was a total surprise.  I was asked to do an interview on our local television station about The Cupid Project.  It gave me an opportunity to tell the story, and I hope to inspire even more people to want to do small acts of kindness for others. 

I had to condense the story quite a bit, and to come up with soundbites suitable for television.  This allowed me to focus the idea, and to add a few new thoughts.  If you were to take away anything from the interview, I would like for it to be these thoughts:

Since I started the website, and especially since the articles have come out in Guideposts Magazine and All About Women, I have had women tell me that they HATE Valentine’s Day, because it makes them feel like total losers!  If you are someone who feels this way too, I would tell to change your focus.  Don’t make it about you! Here is a chance to look at Valentine’s Day completely differently!  Do something kind for someone else, and you will both benefit!

Henry Ford liked to say, “Chop your own wood, and it will warm you twice.”  I think of The Cupid Project like this.  If you give someone a gift from the heart, you both get a present!”

Thank you to everyone who has called and emailed me with thanks and encouragement for this mission. 

- Alison

One January morning two years ago my cousin kissed her husband goodbye and left for her job at a doctor’s office.  When she came home at the end of the day she found him dead on the bathroom floor.

“Carrie” and “John” had been married for 26 years, and they have two grown children.  John had died of a massive heart attack, probably instantly.  The thought that he likely did not suffer for more than a few moments did little to ease Carrie’s shock and grief.

I drove back to my hometown of Wilmington, North Carolina, for the funeral.  The day was bitterly cold.  The assembled group of extended family and friends went through all of the usual motions of comfort and sympathy, but we all knew the road ahead for Carrie, at age 58, was going to be difficult emotionally and financially.  You never know how you’ll function at a time like this, but one thing that struck me about Carrie was that she seemed to be in complete shock.  I remember that she kept telling me how much she loved my outfit, especially my handbag.  She must have complimented me four or five times over the two days I was there.  I kept thinking that when everybody finally went home the reality of all this was going to hit her like a ton of bricks.

As I drove back to my home in the North Carolina mountains, back to my husband and three sons, I spent a lot of time thinking about the blessings of my family, and the loss that Carrie had just experienced.  I thought too, about how lonely she would be now, with no one to go home to at the end of the day.  To make matters worse, Carrie’s mother, who had been living with her and John, had passed away just three months before.  Carrie had also been the one to find her mother, who had passed away peacefully in her sleep.  It was just so much for one person to go through, and my heart ached for my cousin.  I prayed for God to comfort her, and to show me a way that I could help her get through this time.

Over the next few days I kept thinking about Carrie.  I remembered again how she had seemed to love my handbag, and though it seemed such a small thing, I decided that I would try to find another one and send it to her.  I just wanted to do something for her to show her I cared; something to make her feel less alone.  The handbag was not an expensive designer bag, but it was really pretty and a bit unusual.  It was a large paisley bag, in shades of brown, black, and gold.  I loved it because it went with just about everything.  I returned to the department store where I had gotten it, but there were no more like it.  I went to a second store in the mall, but I couldn’t find one there, either.  For the next few weeks, I made trips to various stores – and even a few nearby towns, but the handbag remained elusive.  Finally, a few days before Valentine’s Day, I was shopping for a gift for my husband.  I was in one of those “designer brands for less” stores, and I walked over and looked at the handbags.  I couldn’t believe it when I saw the exact bag I was looking for – and there was just one!  As I paid for the bag (and the red satin boxers I had found for my husband), I instantly knew I was going to send this to Carrie for Valentine’s Day.  When would she need it more?  I couldn’t imagine what a depressing, lonely day it was going to be for her, just 5 short weeks after John’s death.  It seemed a perfect way to show her that I love her and was thinking about her.

Carrie later told me that she could barely make herself go into work that Valentine’s morning.  As all the nurses and women who worked the front desk received deliveries of red roses and heart-shaped boxes of chocolates, Carrie could scarcely see her computer screen through her tears.  Knowing she would be going home to a dark, empty house, she had instead gone to the mall and just walked around, trying not to notice the couples who strolled hand-in-hand, leaving restaurants where they’d just enjoyed candlelit dinners, and who were now heading home for a romantic evening together.  She said that when she finally got home she sat in her car and cried, just sitting in the driveway.  And then, she had walked up onto her front porch and found the package waiting for her.  Of course she was delighted with the handbag - she really is crazy about it - but she also felt the joy that comes when you realize that someone cares.  She told me that she felt like she had just received a big, warm hug.  And that suddenly things didn’t seem quite so bleak.

I thought a lot about that conversation over the next year.  And it made me think, too, about another cousin of mine who had lost her husband a few years before.  And of another, whose husband left her for another woman – shortly after she had been diagnosed with MS.  Then there was the cousin (I have a large family!) who was the sole care-giver of her elderly mother.  She never has time to do anything special for herself.  This is when a little idea began to germinate, and I began to feel like I was being led down a path.

I am a woman who has been blessed with a wonderful, adoring husband, and a happy, affectionate marriage.  But we have all had at least one Valentine’s Day in our lives that has left us feeling lonely, insecure, and depressed.  I will never forget the Valentine’s Day that dawned on a Monday when my husband had to leave on a business trip.  Because we do have a close, loving marriage, Steve was as down in the dumps as I was about being gone for this holiday – a day we would normally celebrate with a romantic dinner out, an exchange of special gifts, and then lots of romance at home!  We had known about the trip for a couple of weeks.  It couldn’t be re-scheduled and we had agreed that we would just celebrate Valentine’s Day Saturday night when he returned.  No big deal.  Still, though, I had tucked a Valentine’s card into his suitcase for him to find when he checked into his hotel that night.  When we kissed each other goodbye that morning, he sighed and said, “Some Valentine’s Day, huh?  I’ll call you tonight.”  And he walked out the door.  I was a bit hurt that he hadn’t said “Happy Valentine’s Day, I love you,” but as I went about my morning, making the bed, cleaning up the breakfast dishes, I kept my eyes open for the note or card I was sure I’d find from him.  I fixed myself a cup of tea and sat down to watch The Today Show, which featured lots of beautiful, last-minute Valentine gift ideas, like silky pajamas packed in a hat box that could be Fed Ex’d to your favorite Valentine.  I flipped over to Good Morning America, where they were oohing and aahing over pink and red fluffy cupcakes that could be delivered to the object of your desire.  A commercial break opened with a 1-800-Flowers spot.  Beginning to get irritated, I turned off the TV, feeling a slight case of the blues coming on.  I worked hard at keeping myself busy, and as the day wore on I ended up cleaning the entire house – and searching underneath the bed pillows twice - but I was beginning to give up hope of finding a card from Steve hidden anywhere.  I was certain, though, that the florist’s van would pull up at any moment.  Later that afternoon, after the boys had come in from school loaded down with Valentine cards and candy treats, and after I had given them the big, red, satin-heart boxes of chocolates that I give them every year, I turned on the TV to see Oprah unveiling all sorts of cool Valentine gifts for the studio audience.  By this time I had realized that my husband had not left a card for me to find.  And that the florist was not coming.  And that Fed Ex does not deliver past 3:00.  And that my husband - whom I, on any sane, rational day, know loves me with all of his heart - had not wished me, in any way, shape, or form, a Happy Valentine’s Day.  And I was crushed.  Devastated beyond all reason.  I told myself that I was blowing this completely out of proportion, that I was being utterly ridiculous, and that the stupid television had caused 99% of this.  But on that day, as I continued to feel increasingly sorry for myself, it didn’t matter.  When Steve finally called that night and realized the state I was in, he of course felt awful.  He kept saying, “Baby, I’m so sorry.  I’m an idiot!” And he promised to never again blow off Valentine’s Day.  And he never has.

I am one of the lucky ones.  I know this.

And that is how I came to realize that Valentine’s Day, of all holidays, can be a truly wretched day for a lot of people.  For people who have lost someone, like some of my cousins, or for people who are lonely, like an estimated half of the population, Valentine’s Day is a hateful reminder that there is no special, significant someone in their lives.  February 14th is a ridiculously commercialized holiday.  None of us should pay a bit of attention to it, but we do.  We get suckered in.  And all of us, male and female, young and old – long for someone to reach out to us on that day, of all days, and make us feel special.  Inside every one of us will always be the little child who secretly feared not being popular enough at school to receive any Valentines.

And so “The Cupid Project” was born.  Last year, I sent each of my cousins a pretty, ceramic mug and some yummy, gourmet cookies.  I made each of them a card, inscribing a beautiful quote I found by Marianne Moore that says: “The heart that gives, gathers.”  I even wrapped the packages in special shipping paper that had hearts all over it.  It gave me such a great feeling to drop them off at the post office that I had a bounce in my step all day.  And two days later, on Valentine’s Day, as I anticipated my cousins’ reactions when they opened their packages, and later that evening, when their delighted thank-you calls started coming in, I realized that it had been the best Valentine’s Day I’ve ever had.

In writing this, I have to confess that I hope more comes of this.  I challenge each of you to think of someone who might need a special Valentine this year.  Think of the widow or widower you know, or the single mom or dad, or just anyone you suspect may not have a special Valentine in their lives.  Maybe there’s someone who works for you in some capacity, someone who does a lot for you whom you don’t thank as often as you should.  What about the guys (and girls) at your local Volunteer Fire Department?  A batch of cupcakes would go a long way toward making them feel appreciated.  Or what about the awkward, lonely teenager next door?  Your Valentine could be from “A Secret Admirer.”  I guarantee you there is someone in your life who needs and deserves to feel special and appreciated, and Valentine’s Day is a great day to let them know.  It doesn’t have to be a big deal, and it doesn’t have to be expensive.  A card is fine - it really is the thought that counts.  So this year, I hope you’ll start your own Cupid Project.  And it may surprise you that the person you lift up the most this Valentine’s Day, is you.  For after all, “the heart that gives, gathers.”

- Alison