Remembrances of Touch


I am not a hugger.

If you are not among my intimate acquaintance, you and I do not hug.

Huggers drive me nuts. Especially huggers who ignore my already outstretched, ready-for-a-shake hand. Please, hugger, take the hint and do not hug me.

I am not a hugger, but the irony about me is I express love through touch. It is the way I show love and feel love, and its the way I remember love.

I miss the feeling of hands interlaced. The brush of a kiss. The warmth of a child pressed against your side. The strength of an embrace. I miss those intimate touches, and sometimes when I'm missing you too much, my body almost aches for the nearness of your touch.

It's as if part of me is missing - the hand you hold, the cheek you kiss, the shoulder you pat. It's empty without you there.

During worship a few Sundays ago, one of these moments came upon me.

I could almost feel but couldn't feel Hannah* pressed against my side, my arm wrapped around her as I raised the other in supplication. For a moment I felt it but didn't feel it and my heart lurched. My heart lurched with the pain of longing, a feeling which grew as I felt but didn't feel my lips pressed against the smooth skin of her forehead and the brush of her hair against my cheek. My heart lurched and my mama's heart roared and I heard the still sweet whisper of the Counselor and Comforter, This is how I long for you.

This is how our Papa God with his roaring mama's heart longs for us in the in between place of Kingdom come and Kingdom coming, of salvation received and salvation being worked out - with a longing of nearness fully restored.

This, this feeling of longing and intimacy.

I then thought of how I have gone to prepare a place for my sweet daughter - a faint resemblance to a brother Christ who has gone to prepare a place for me. I thought of the yearning and the longing and the reconciling of a loving and gracious God.

And I knew with the slightest understanding how my Papa God's mama's heart roars for me and for fulfilling which is yet to come.

Tears filled my eyes, and in that moment, for an instant, I felt Him bend low offering the warmth of his embrace - a touch, a memory, an intimate moment with my goodly Father.


*Hannah is a pseudonym. In order to protect her identity until she is fully and legally mine, I use "Hannah" in all online activity regarding my someday daughter and her adoption.


Please consider helping us raise the last bit of Hannah's adoption fees:

1. Buy a t-shirt from

2. Buy coffee from

3. Send a check to Oasis Haven US: (Your gift through Oasis Haven US is tax deductible.)

    PO Box 28362
    San Diego, CA

    *Please write "adoption support" on the memo line.