“Elmo, Coffee, and a Cure for Heavy Hearts”
❄️ November 9
46 Days Till Christmas
My darlings,
Yesterday’s post left me a little raw, if I’m being honest. Sometimes a heart doesn’t bounce back immediately, even after a good cry and a midnight talk with Santa. I think that’s all right. Some aches just need a little time… and maybe a little company.
This morning, I got just that.
I had called in a small grocery order—mostly flour (we’re going through it like the wind this year), cinnamon sticks, and a few specialty items I can’t seem to keep in stock this side of the solstice. It wasn’t a big order, but I didn’t want to go into town today. I was still wearing my shawl over my nightgown and hadn’t yet wrangled my hair into anything respectable.
So you can imagine my surprise when I heard the knock and opened the door to find Elmo, the grocery delivery elf, grinning like a peppermint cat with cream on its whiskers.
“Elmo!” I nearly shouted, and nearly dropped the bag of oats I was holding. “It’s been too long!”
He hadn’t been by my end of the village in a few weeks, what with the new interns handling the northern routes. But today, by some miracle (or clerical mix-up—hard to say which), Elmo was back.
I asked if he could stay for a cup of coffee, and to my delight, he said yes. He even pulled out a warm nut-roll from his own coat pocket to share—he claimed it was a customer tip, but I suspect he brought it just in case he got invited to sit a while. Smart boy.
We didn’t talk about Santa’s dream, or heavy hearts, or the ache that can rise like frost around the edges of December.
We talked about nothing in particular—until Elmo pulled out the notepad he carries on deliveries and said, “Mrs. C, can I share a few riddles with you? The bakery elves in South Grove have been full of them lately.”
Now, you know how I am about wordplay and wit. Elmo didn’t have to ask twice.
❄️ A Few of Elmo’s Favorite Riddles:
Q: What do you call a snowman with a six-pack?
A: An abdominal snowman.
(I laughed so hard I nearly spilled my coffee. This one’s my favorite. Elmo said he heard it from a second-grader who tipped him with a candy cane and a note that said “stay strong.”)
Q: Why did the gingerbread man go to therapy?
A: He felt crumby inside.
Q: What’s Santa’s favorite kind of music?
A: Wrap music.
Q: Why do Christmas lights never argue?
A: They know how to stay lit without blowing a fuse.
By the time Elmo bundled back up and headed out into the snow, I was lighter. Still tired, yes. Still feeling the pull of all that’s left to do. But better.
The Bible says, “A merry heart doeth good like a medicine…” and I vow if it isn’t true. Laughter doesn’t erase sorrow, but it reminds you that you’re still alive, still held, still human. And sometimes, a riddle shared over coffee is just what the doctor—or the Lord—ordered.
So here’s my prescription today, dear ones:
Find someone to laugh with.
Tell a joke.
Bake something ridiculous.
Sit with a friend for 20 minutes without talking about anything important.
It won’t fix the world.
But it just might lift your corner of it.
With coffee-scented joy,
—Mrs. Claus
Well, that does it. I’ve decided Elmo’s next delivery to my cottage will be rewarded with a nut-roll and a riddle. Fair trade, don’t you think? Your post made me smile through my flour-dusted spectacles, dear. I always say joy rises best in a warm kitchen—and now I’ve added laughter to the recipe. Thank you for the reminder, sweet girl.
Agatha, you darling treasure—I do believe the whole North Pole runs smoother because of your wise sayings and sourdough starters. You’re right as rain: joy does rise in warm kitchens, and laughter is the yeast that helps it along. Give Elmo a big hug from me when he comes ‘round. And save a slice of that nut-roll… I’ll trade you a cinnamon twist!
Reading your post felt like sitting beside the fire wrapped in a quilt I didn’t know I needed. I’ve been in a bit of a fog myself lately—nothing major, just that quiet sort of sadness that seems to arrive when the leaves go and the nights stretch long. Thank you for letting us peek into your morning. It helped more than you know.
Marla, your words feel like a shawl around my shoulders. Isn’t it strange how even gentle sadness can feel so heavy? I’m glad my morning—and Elmo’s visit—brought you a little light. You’re not alone in that fog, dear one. Sometimes we just need someone to say, “I see you.” And I do. Sending warm cider thoughts your way.
Hi Mrs. Claus, my mom said I could leave a comment. I think Elmo is super cool and I want to be a riddle elf when I grow up. Here is one I made up myself:
Q: Why did the reindeer bring a map?
A: Because he didn’t want to get “lost in the jingle!”
Do you think Santa would laugh?
Jeremy, you clever little sleigh bell! I adore your riddle—and I promise you, Santa would belly-laugh so loud it would jingle the rafters in the toy shop. I’ll be sure to share it with him tonight over his cocoa. If you do become a riddle elf one day, Elmo better watch out—he’s got some merry competition coming up the ranks!
Eloise Featherbutton (Textiles & Threads Elf, retired)
Oh my stars, Mrs. C—Elmo’s riddles nearly unraveled my embroidery! I haven’t laughed that hard since Tagwell tried to bake a lattice pie with yarn. Thank you for reminding me that joy and grief can sit at the same table, so long as there’s coffee and company. Sending you warm stitches and an extra cinnamon stick for tomorrow’s brew.
Oh, Eloise, I knew you’d appreciate a well-placed pun—and you’re right, laughter and sorrow do often find themselves seated side by side. It’s a funny kind of fellowship, isn’t it? And I’m still chuckling over Tagwell’s yarn pie attempt… bless his determined heart. Cinnamon stick received, my dear—consider it steeped in love. 💗