I got a hug.
That isn’t exactly unusual. I get lots of kid’s hugs, family hugs, and lots of the ladies at my church aren’t afraid to give me a friendly hug every now and then. But this time I got a “man hug.”
[Definition by Me: hug given by a male old enough to be married; the process of being comforted, encouraged, or strengthened by a male in the more mature category]
I used to get at least a dozen of those a day. Now I’m on rations and each one is special.
There have been several men who have been brave enough to give me a hug since Dan died and I think I remember every single one. Some hugs were given as a “hello” or “goodbye,” some were given in sympathy, some with enthusiasm, some out of concern, and all were given with godly love.
Many of these men have risked the wrath of girlfriends, fiancés, or wives. They have bravely hazarded the possibility of gossip and questioning looks. They have jeopardized their ‘tough man’ image, and they have boldly faced the threat of piles of children demanding ‘I want one too!’
For every man out there who has dared to hug a widow, I just want to say “Thank You!” from the bottom of my heart. And I just want to encourage any man who dares to read this blog to “hug a widow today.” They will be eternally grateful.
(Of course, prudence must be exercised . . . )
(Oh, and don’t you ladies think your hugs aren’t appreciated, too. Keep it up!)