Free Hugs
Posted
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mberg03 on
1/31/2010 8:59:33 AM
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Free Hugs
The air was cool but not cold, as the warmth of the sun was focused off 30-story glass walls down to the street and sidewalks. Aromas floated from a nearby chocolate factory, cafes and street vendors. The perfume of a passer-by dazzles them all before being escorted to an early evening affair. Colors dimmed and brightened with light clouds covering and revealing the sun, as if the buildings were swaying left to right in the slightest breeze.
Recognition of the workings of God has become a drug to me. I am addicted to feeling I get when I look at something and realize, God did that. I find myself appreciating more and more the presence of the Lord. It’s a bit strange, to be true, because a year ago I wouldn’t have been feeling this way. And as I sit, watching the foot-traffic on the 16th Street Mall in Downtown Denver, I see signs of Him everywhere.
There is the young man across the street, holding a sign over his head that reads, “Free Hugs.” He is tall and lean, dressed in jeans and a grey t-shirt. His hair is dreadlocked, shoulder length and full of knots and curls. His long arms hold his sign proudly above his head, high above the passing masses.
The scene doesn’t outright say, "from the Lord," but His presence is here in the diversity of people brought together for an impromptu embrace. A toddler gets a squeeze while seated on the shoulders of his father. A teenage girl receives a one-armed “keep my distance” hug, perhaps knowing full well the novelty and spontaneity of the situation is really what she is embracing. A man, likely in his late 40’s or early 50’s, walking alone, shares an extended moment.
An elderly woman in a flowery outfit takes her hug and then pats the young greeter on the arm. She reminds me of my grandmother, and could very well be one herself. She shares a few words with her momentary friend, and one can only wonder what might have been said. “Young man, you are a joy. Remember to call you mother every now and then, go to church every Sunday and give thanks at every table.” At least, that’s what my grandmother would have said.
Numerous people move passed the greeter without as much as a glance. Some pay attention enough only to avoid his advances, others carry a focused look on their brow, too intent on getting to Point-B in the master plan of their day to consider a quick inhaling of this street scene.
Eventually, and sadly, the novelty of this act on this corner wears off and he moves out of sight. I hope he continues sharing his joy with others on another corner, somewhere else in the world.
The interesting thought is what he may have left with those he touched. Imagine the conversation grandma has when she returns home from her trip. It could have been a visit to the city from her sub-urban town, or a journey across oceans. Either way, she has a story to tell to her family and friends.
“I was just walking through the mall, and saw this young man with a sign that read ‘free hugs.’ I couldn’t help myself, I had to say hello to him. I can’t explain the feeling of comfort I got, knowing we were two children of the same Lord. He would go his way, and I mine, but we carried thoughts and prayers of each other with us. That is the greatest example of loving your neighbor as yourself that I have every experienced.”
She may have said.
Songs and music will always provide a sort of soundtrack of my life, and today is no exception. I hear Kry, Let Me Say “Let me say, all there is to say, life is so much more than what you think it is.” Look around for a moment, anywhere, and realize that life as you see is there because of God. Realize that your presence in position to see what you see is the gift of God, and should be embraced, not ignored.
I search the limited landscape as pedestrians move into and out of frame. The camera of my eye and mind is focused not on individuals, but the scene before me. I take a mental photo of a little girl, not more than two years old, walking into a restaurant with (I assume) her parents. I notice her because she reminds me of my daughters.
She was walking gingerly and in a crooked line, but certainly convinced she can do anything she puts her mind to. Her pink sweats wear the stains of stumbles, but her face proclaims the undaunted look of the determined. I have two of those at home myself, and both can do more today than I think I am lifetime capable. I pray now that I can guide them to a life in Christ. And I will, with God’s help.
As the streets grow crowded with the closing business day, I am forced from my virtual flying bridge by an approaching mob of bus riders. But the day has left a smile on my face, a warmth I will carry with me, and a memory to recall at moments I forget to look around.
