Why Hug When You Can Just Shake Hands?

Yesterday morning while sitting in church, a lady came up to me and asked me my name. Normal enough. Next she asked me if we had been coming there long. Still kind of normal. Finally she wanted to know the exact number of times we had been there. Getting kinda weird.

Then she hugged me.
As in pull-you-in-close, arms-wrapped-around-the-neck type of hug.
Definitely at that awkward stage.

Have I mentioned I'm not a huggy kind of person?

Yep, I've had well over twenty-four hours to think about this and well... I'm still thinking about it. I have therefore determined that in my world, there are three kinds of hugs (hey, I always said I think too much).

1. The Honey, I'm Home Hug: These are the hugs my husband gives me when he comes home from work. I'm typically in the kitchen or sometimes I'll meet him out on the front porch. Hugs like these make me feel warm and fuzzy and give me peace.
2. The Goodbye Hug: These hugs always make me cry and I have a hard time letting go. One of these hugs was shared with my grandma on a September morning the day we moved. Now they are all reserved for my mom and dad and happen twice a year.
3. The Awkward  Stranger Hug: These kinds are generally found inside a church during the welcome song or at family reunions with people you have honestly never met. I am not a fan of these and always feel like my personal space has been violated.

Maybe that's the problem right there. I like my personal space.

And I know this is gonna sound corny, but well... have I mentioned that I'm a little obsessed with dictionaries? Particularly old dictionaries. I like to know what words meant before we added ain't to the English language according to the modern day Webster.

So here is the definition of hug from my 1892 Webster's High School Dictionary: To embrace closely; to hold fast; to keep close to.

I know, I know. I'm putting too much time into this. It's just after that moment in church yesterday, I was left thinking what's wrong with me? Are other people comfortable giving and/or receiving hugs from people they don't know? That woman certainly was. Does she have more of Jesus than I do?

(Understand I'm just rambling here because I really don't think that Jesus part. He loves me whether I'm a huggy person or not).

To me, a hug is personal. I want to at least share a cup of coffee with you before I wrap my arms around your neck and even then, well, let's just say that better have been one good cup of coffee. If I'm perfectly honest, I prefer a good old-fashioned handshake.

I just gotta figure out a way to tell that lady this before she comes after me next Sunday.

Hugs, Kleenex, and Chocolate

My boy gave me a hug today voluntarily. My boy that is now taller than me. Funny how you can watch them grow and yet not realize how much they've grown till you have to reach your arms up to hug them back.

Then I hugged my other boy. The other boy who has been taller than me for quite some time. Didn't quite realize just how tall he was till I noticed I could practically rest my head on his shoulder.

So as not to make anybody feel left out, I hugged my girl. The one who can look me square in the eye. Felt kind of weird to be on equal ground with her. I'm sure she'll pass me by within a few months.

It was just a huggy kind of night around here. Made me think of all those times I purposely arrived late for church services just so I could miss the welcome song and all the hugs. I'm not exactly the kind of person who freely gives and accepts hugs. You may love Jesus and I may love Jesus, but a handshake will suit me just fine. That's just the way I am.

Except for tonight. I think I could have went on hugging each member of my family, one by one. Maybe difficult times do have a way of bringing everyone together. Well, technically, I was the one having a difficult time, but hey... I guess watching your mom melt into a puddle of goo makes the family rally around her. At least that's how it went down at our house.

The hugs sure did help, though. That and the endless supply of kleenex. Oh, and the chocolate cake my daughter made after the hugs had exhausted themselves and the kleenex supply ran low.

I've trained my daughter well.

Kleenex and chocolate make the world a happier place.