Soft Touch

A few years ago, my daughter Meghann learned how to make those fleecy, tied knots around the edges blankets, and she began making them for gifts for everyone. She made a blanket for Matt to take to college (which he still has ... a Charlie Brown one), a blanket for Brad's futon, blankets for people having babies, blankets for me, blankets for my family back in Tennessee, blankets for the mailman ... oh, wait, I think the mailman may have been the one person for whom she didn't make a blanket ... sorry, Mr. Mailman. As is true with most things in life, I suppose, the more blankets Meghann made, the more her skill improved, and the blankets she makes now are ... quite simply ... wonderful.

My daughter has made me several blankets over the years, but there is one that is my absolute favorite ... in fact, I snuggled under it on the couch last night with Ollie and Julie and fell asleep. I love the colors in the blanket, and I really love the design on the fabric ... log cabins with moose. But what I love the most about my moosey blanket is the fabric Meg used on the back side of it ... it is the softest fleece I have ever felt. She said it was some sort of baby blanket fleece, which is probably why it is so soft. It's kind of textured, almost like it's got little pockets of soft all over it. Yep, my log cabin, moosey blanket is definitely my favorite of all the blankets Meghann has made for me.

I've noticed something the last couple of Wednesday nights when I've gone to Awana to listen to the little kids ... they always want to give me a hug or a high five or hold my hand, and when they do, I can't help but notice how soft their little hands are. Granted, occasionally one of them is sticky or dirty, but still soft nonetheless. I've also noticed on the Thursdays when I go help at Bingo that the older folks at the retirement center love it when I reach out my hand to hold theirs or to pat them on the shoulder ... their hands aren't soft like the little kids' hands are, but they are certainly delicate in their own way. From young to old, I think most of us long to have that connection with another person, even if it's only for a moment.

There are times in my now solitary existence that I miss the human touch, even though on the rare occasions I actually see someone who hugs me, I have to fight to hold back the tears ... and more often than not, the tears come no matter how hard I fight. As much as I love my hounds and they love me, they can't give me a heartfelt hug or scratch my back when it itches or tuck blankets around me when I'm sick. So tonight, I went to church to listen to the kiddos ... I was barely in the door when two little kids ran up shouting my name as they wrapped their arms around me. And as I climbed in my car to come home, the tears came and I thanked God for those kids ... they have no idea what the soft touch of their hugs meant to me tonight ... no idea at all.