What Do You Miss Most

I had the privilege of ministering to one of our widows this morning. She is a treasure. A rare jewel of a person aging alone without her spouse, but she is not a bitter lady. She is classy. She is delightful, interesting, and joyful. I promised her months ago I would come see her. Today was the day. We sat at her dining room table and visited for an  hour and a half. 

She and her husband were married for 63 years. I have not even reached the age of 63. He died in 2019. I asked her at one point what she missed about him the most. Her answer surprised me. She replied misty eyed, "I miss his touch." She lives alone. She is faithful in attendance among a group of other widows in our church. I often stop by their class on Sunday mornings to visit. Those ladies are important to me. Very important. 

As I thought about daily routines, it became apparent to me that she probably never gets physical touch from her class. I've never seen the ladies in her class hug one another. Does she ever get a hug? A pat on the back? Do people shake her hand?  Then I thought about my own life. Brenda and I usually kiss in the mornings and at night before going to sleep. We hug nearly everyday. There are others in the church who refuse to shake hands preferring hugs instead. I shake hands with multiple people during the week. Physical touch is built into rhythms of life. 

The saintly senior lady I visited today does not have that. While she did not say so, I imagine her missing holding hands with her husband. Periodically Brenda and I hold hands during the night. Something this precious lady does not get to experience. She does not enjoy the soft tender peck on the cheek or a quick kiss just to say I love you without words. She does not get any tender strokes on her cheeks nor does she get enjoy a quick hug. She lives a touch free life for the most part. 

Multiple times she choked back tears as we visited about her late husband. He was an interesting gentleman. I wish I could have met him.  63 years is a long time to share life with someone and then that person to be snatched away. 63 years of little day to day touches. A shoulder rub. An Eskimo kiss. Walking arm in arm. 

I left that visit with two take aways. First,  I want to make the most of the moments I have with Brenda. I know those times will not last forever. Either the Lord will take one of us home first, or Jesus will rapture us. The second take away is I need to remember how meaningful a handshake, a pat on the back or a hug might mean to someone who never gets any physical touch. I know this is a sticky topic in this day and time. There is such a thing as inappropriate touching. I certainly want to steer clear of that. On the other hand, God might use me and you to be the hands of Jesus to minister through simple human touch to other hurting and lonely people. Something as simple as human touch is something many of us take for granted everyday. May this be a reminder to keep watch for those who could use a little Jesus with skin on..