I’ve Become A Prickly Bear

I am not a hugger. I have the shirt to prove it. 

I had social distance down to an art way before it became the rule. Until one day…

If you knew me ten years ago, you’d know this whole seclusion thing is yehaw-happy time for me! Keeping distance is something that came natural- don’t get in my space, no touchy, no kissy. Back then there would only be a handful of people that would be at risk from catching anything from me.

But that all changed when grace reached out and grabbed me by the neck. 

I still have times that the prickly pear comes out in me and I steer away, but the feeling of a bear hug from someone who loves you for who you are is kind of addicting! And it’s missed. 

Trying to remember when it started is harder than remembering when it didn’t happen, but no matter-it is now commonplace. To walk into the little white church where I call home and not get a hug from ninety percent of those there...is pretty unimaginable and not getting at least a handshake is definately unthinkable. 

During flu season the pastor advises that we refrain from both hugging and shaking hands, which never happens. We are a house full of rebels...we just can’t control ourselves! 

We are family there. There are hugs, there are kisses, there are handshakes. There’s love, support, compassion...it’s tough to be away from there, but it’s harder to go back with the threat of infecting anyone with the horrible virus that could so quickly eliminate some of the most important people in my world. 

Peace is found knowing that one day I will be able to hug anyone I please for as long as I wish. I’ll be able to shake hands, hold hands, visit, sing, dance, all without any worry. 

A few months is nothing compared to forever.