Once Upon a Hugger

For all the hugs I've given or received over the years ... and yes, each one special in its own way ... the best ever are the hugs that come from my two adorable little Canadians when I walk through the doors at the airport when I go for a visit. When they come running and shouting, "Ghee! Ghee! Ghee!" and wrap their little arms around me ... geez, Louise, there's just nothing better. I lift them into my arms and in a blink, their four little girl arms are squeezing around my neck as hard as they can possibly squeeze without choking me. They pull back and look into my eyes as if they're making sure I'm really there, and then they press their precious faces up against mine, giggling and squealing with pure, unadulterated delight to be with their Ghee.

Perhaps it's because my 58th birthday is coming up in just a few short weeks, but I've found myself wishing lately that I had kept a better accounting of certain things in my life. Things I wish I would have tallied up as I went and written them down so I could look back and, hopefully, be astounded by such a great number of good things and humbled by such an inconsequential amount of bad ones. Take hugs, for example ... how cool would it be if I had kept a record of every single hug I've given or received over the last almost 58 years? Just think ... had I written them all down, I could open my "Book of Hugs" anytime I needed to feel loved and remember the people and circumstances surrounding each one of those hugs.

A couple of weeks ago, an article popped up in my Facebook feed about how important hugging and/or being hugged are for both our mental and physical well-being. From triggering the release of dopamine and serotonin in the brain (chemicals that affect both mood and emotion) to lowering blood pressure and reducing the production of cortisol, adrenaline and norepinephrine (often referred to as the stress hormones), hugs have been scientifically proven to positively enhance the health of our bodies, minds and souls. Click here to read the article for yourself, and also take a couple of minutes to watch the video that appears near the end about the social experiment regarding real vs. fake hugs. (Note: The article is kind of long, but I think you'll find it's well worth the read time, and the video is most certainly worth taking a few minutes to watch.) Oh, and for the record, I agree that hugs ... hugs that are given from hearts that are pure ... are one of the most powerful ways to show someone you care. 

I read an article yesterday discussing a piece that was published on the Girl Scouts of America website about the dangers of forcing girls (and I'll add in boys as well) to hug friends and family members at gatherings during the holidays. I'm sure a large part of the reasoning behind the decision to publish the information encouraging parents not to push their daughters (or sons) to hug friends and relatives was due to the unprecedented number of reports in the news as of late regarding the sexual misconduct of adults toward children and teens. Before you read one more word, please hear me on this ... I understand that reasoning completely, and I absolutely agree that as parents and grandparents, we must do everything in our power to protect our children and grandchildren from any and all forms of improper advances or sexual abuse. That's a no-brainer to me. I have nothing but the utmost respect for those who are coming forward to name their abusers. No matter their age or how long ago the abuse occurred, it takes a very special kind of courage to speak out. It does, however, make me incredibly sad to know that's the kind of world we now live in. The kind of world where something each one of us so desperately needs for our mental, emotional and physical well-being has been turned into something about which we must now question the motive or intent of the giver. The kind of world where a hug has become something sexual ... something we must be on guard about not only for our children and grandchildren, but for ourselves as well.

Every year on the Tuesday before Thanksgiving, the company I work for holds an event called "Stretch Your Stomach." SHS provides the turkey and the employees contribute all the sides, desserts and drinks, and everyone gathers in the kitchen over the lunch hour to partake in the pre-Thanksgiving feast. I spent yesterday evening making deviled eggs ... not because I'm crazy about making deviled eggs for hours on end, but because apparently, at least according to some of my co-workers, I make darned good deviled eggs and people always ask me to bring them. The "Stretch Your Stomach" pre-Thanksgiving feast is a tradition at SHS ... a tradition that people look forward to every year. Last night, as I was boiling, peeling, slicing, mixing and filling all those eggs, I couldn't help but think about an office tradition of my own that I once had. On the last day in the office before a holiday or before I left to go on vacation, I would go to each of my co-workers' desks, wish them a happy holiday and give them a hug.

My old hugging tradition probably never meant as much to the folks I work with as it did to me, because it meant a great big old heck of a lot to me. I often say that's the worst thing about being an empty-nester ... not having my kids around to hug whenever I want. Don't worry, they would all tell you that when we do get together now, I make sure I get in a super abundance of hugs when they arrive and when they leave. OK, OK ... I may even hug them a few extra times in between the hellos and goodbyes. You may have read the quote from Dr. Virginia Satir in which she famously said, "We need four hugs a day for survival. We need eight hugs a day for maintenance. We need 12 hugs a day for growth." Man, oh, man ... if the great and wise Dr. Satir is correct in her findings, it's a freaking miracle that I, along with all the other people out there who live alone, are still breathing.

A young man I worked with several years ago stopped by the office a few weeks ago to say hello. When he saw me, the first thing he did was reach out his arms to hug me and as he did, he said, "You're the best hugger ever, Terrie. I always looked forward to your hugs because they made me know, even on my darkest days, there was someone who truly cared about me." I managed to squeak out a response of, "You're too sweet," before he pulled back and stared deeply into my eyes, leaned in to hug me again and whispered something in my ear that went straight to my heart. The tall, super-intelligent, handsome young man said softly, "You're not hugging me back, T. What's up with that? I need a real Terrie hug. Why aren't you hugging me back?" I could offer no answers for the young man's questions ... no answers except to hug him back as tightly as I could and whisper in his ear, "Thank you ... thank you ... thank you."

It's probably not a coincidence that I've been watching "This Is Us" as I was typing this post ... lots of powerful and emotional hugs in this episode, and yep, I cried my eyes out as I do pretty much every time I watch that show. Hug someone tomorrow ... don't let the bad others do keep you from doing the good you can do. Be thankful and kind and compassionate to one another, friends ... and hug. Hug often ... hug with a pure heart ... hug and show someone you care.  

And That's Why She's Famous

A few days ago, I read the following story and I'd like to ask you to read it, too.

A Walmart cashier's simple act of kindness has shown that slowing down and showing patience can sometimes make all the difference.

In a widely shared Facebook post, Spring Herbison Bowlin said her heart was warmed during a recent shopping trip to a Walmart in Mississippi.

Bowlin had stopped by the store on her lunch break and was waiting in the checkout line when she said she was moved by a cashier's kindness toward one customer.

Bowlin wrote that a man in front of her had just been given his total when he nervously looked back at her and started to apologize as he placed handfuls of change on the counter.

"He miscounts and starts to get flustered," Bowlin wrote.

"His hands and voice are shaking," she said. "This beautiful cashier takes his hands and dumps all the change on the counter and says, 'This is not a problem, honey. We will do this together.'"

After the transaction was handled, Bowlin said she thanked the cashier for being so patient with the customer.

"She shakes her head and replies, 'You shouldn't have to thank me, baby. What's wrong with our world is we've forgotten how to love one another.'"

Now that you've read it, I'd like to ask you to think about the three people in this story ... the nervous man trying to pay with all the change, the cashier who helped him and the woman in line who shared the story. Try for a minute to put yourself into their shoes.

How do you think you would have felt if you were the man trying desperately to count out the right amount of change? Embarrassed? Frustrated? Apologetic? Maybe even ashamed?

What if you were the cashier? Would you have been as kind to the man as she was? Would you have been so gracious in helping him to count out his money? Or would you have adamantly crossed your arms across your chest and glared at the poor guy to make sure he knew in no uncertain terms that he was causing problems not only for you but for the other customers who were waiting in line? 

And last, but certainly not least, the woman who was there on her lunch hour and just happened to be in line behind the man. Would you have noticed the actions of the cashier toward the man? Would you have taken the time to thank her for being so kind? Would you have been so touched by what you saw that you'd share the story with the world? Or would you have been tapping your foot, looking at your watch, sighing loudly or mumbling under your breath that you were going to be late getting back to work?

Think that employee's motive when she took that man's hands, dumped out the change and told him they'd do the counting together was to gain fame on the internet? Think the lady in line who thanked the cashier for her kindness toward the man and subsequently shared the story on her Facebook page was to get some sort of personal glory in doing so? You can think and say what you will, but I think that what happened at that checkout in Walmart that day was simply a pure and unblemished act of human compassion and kindness between strangers.

You know what else I think? I think we should all take to heart the words of the cashier and get busy finding a way to remember what loving one another really and truly means. You bet that's what I think ... you bet I do indeed.

"You shouldn't have to thank me, baby. What's wrong with our world is we've forgotten how to love one another."

Don't Forget to Remember

I'm guessing that I'm not the only person who will stop channel surfing every single time I run across the movie "Pretty Woman" and watch it even though I've seen it like a gazillion times already. I've always loved a good "underdog wins in the end" type of flick, and there's no denying that "Pretty Woman" most definitely falls into that category. I mean come on ... lonely millionaire who sucks at relationships hires a hooker off the street to be his eye candy for a week while he tries to close a big business deal, realizes she's much more than just a hooker, falls head over heels in love with her and ends up climbing up a fire escape to profess said love? It just doesn't get any better than that when it comes to an "underdog wins in the end" movie ... no way, no how does it get any better than that. Add in Julia Roberts as the hooker and Richard Gere as the millionaire, and I say again ... no way, no how does the mysterious land of filmdom get any better than that.

For me, one of the most touching dialogues from the film takes place during an intimate conversation between Vivian (Julia Roberts) and Edward (Richard Gere) when Vivian is telling Edward about the journey that led to her becoming a prostitute.

Vivian: "It's not like anybody plans this, it's not your childhood dream."

Edward: "But you could be so much more."

Vivian: "People put you down enough, you start to believe it."

Edward: "I think you are a very bright, very special woman."

Vivian: "The bad stuff is easier to believe. You ever notice that?"

Vivian's words struck me deeply the first time I saw the movie, and they still strike me deeply almost 30 years later as I sit on my couch typing this post. Perhaps it's because I've lived more life now or because I've been on the receiving end of more than a little of the bad stuff myself over the years, but I find that the words strike me more acutely, more pervasively, more profoundly now than ever before. It's hard to keep believing in yourself when a chorus of people tell you that you're not good enough or smart enough or rich enough or successful enough or young enough or strong enough or thin enough or happy enough or pretty enough or straight enough or powerful enough or any other of a million other not enoughs. Add in some of the phrases below to those not enoughs, and it's a pretty perfect recipe for bashing the heck out of someone's spirit or, at the very least, doing some significant damage to their quite probably already lowered sense of self-worth.

"Nobody likes you."

"Your feelings don't matter."

"I don't care about you."

"You'll never amount to anything."

"I don't love you anymore."

"You're not worth my time."

"My life is better without you in it."

"No one needs you." 

I often envy people who can simply disregard personal slams or digs against their character or integrity, though some would say that type of self-confidence or self-regarding attitude could border on being pompous, egotistical and, in extreme cases, even narcissistic. I've wondered a great deal why it is that some of us struggle so hard not to succumb to the bad stuff people tell us about ourselves while others are able to brush off those types of comments like they were nothing, or perhaps it's more accurate to say that they can brush them off as if they were never spoken to them. That question troubles me a lot ... why some are swallowed up by the hurtful words tossed their way and others walk away unscathed, and it's a question I'm certain I'll never be able to answer. But the bigger, more distressing and concerning dilemma for me personally, however, is this ... why do I let the people who tell me the bad stuff about myself cause me to forget to remember the people who see the good in me?

People like the older African American woman who came up to me in the Walmart parking lot a few weeks ago when I was loading my groceries into my car. Actually, she didn't really come up to me as much as she came up to Ollie. She, like many people, simply couldn't resist my adorable little wiener dog and asked if she could pet him. As we chatted about the wonderfulness of dogs, the sweet, gray-haired lady suddenly stopped and put her hand on my arm and said in a strong, clear voice, "Girl, I can see you have a good heart. I feel that about you ... I feel that you're a kind and loving person." Why do I so easily forget the kind and encouraging words of that particular stranger but remember the harsh and hateful ones hurled at me from another?

People like my sweet great niece who sent me this text while I was visiting my family in Tennessee. "I wanted to tell you thank you for always being sincere and never making our time together ever feel rushed. You genuinely show love to those you're around and really tune in to make them feel so important and special. You have a special gift and I thank God for that gift from you!" Why do I so quickly forget my great niece's precious, heartfelt words of appreciation and gratitude for the time I spent with her and her sweet family, and instead remember when someone tells me I talk too much or care too much or take up too much of their time?

People like my children who so often remind me of how much they love me and tell me I'm a pretty great mom. People like my little Canadians who say I'm absolutely the best (and the warmest) Ghee ever. People like my nieces and nephews ... and even my greats and great greats, too ... who are all in agreement that I'm the coolest aunt ever. People like the friends who reach out to schedule time to get together with me or the ones who randomly drop me a note or give me a call to say they miss me or they're thinking of me. People like my young neighbors who leave me bouquets of flowers or trust me to take care of their doggies when they go out of town. People like the guys who delivered my firewood a couple of weeks ago and told me I was the nicest customer they'd ever had. People like the co-worker who signed my anniversary card with "I've never met anyone who cares about people as much as you do. I love you." People like you who, for reasons I will never ever understand, continue to send me emails and messages begging me to start writing again. And again I say, why do I let the people who tell me the bad stuff about myself cause me to forget to remember the people who see the good in me?

Don't forget to remember, friends, that the words we speak to each other matter. What we choose to say to others can give them the hope they need to go on or help them believe in themselves, or cause irreparable damage to their spirit or make them question their worth or their reason for living. We need to be careful in what we say to each other ... we need to take care with our words and we need to take care of each other. Be the one who speaks good to another ... be the one who loves without measure ... be the one who refuses to hurt anyone ... be the one who is selfless in caring ... be the one they won't forget to remember.