There was some hugging in church. A small girl came with her parents who arrived early to practice a prelude, and when she saw her grandpa come though the door at the regular time she squealed. His face broadened, and he stooped down to catch her when she ran to him. They are a multi generational family so I am pretty sure she saw him at breakfast. Still for a two year old, an hour is a long separation. 

 

Another boy, twice her age, came in with his mother. His father had come early too for set up, and the time apart seemed like reason enough to throw himself into his father's arms. 

 

One woman was rolled in in a wheelchair, and I was one of several people who hugged her after church. 

 

A few years ago John told the story of Rachel and Jacob at the well. He suggested that one of the reasons Jacob fell in love with Rachel was because he saw her tenderness with the sheep. The children who came to sit up close to the altar wore fluffy masks. They could not have been more lamb like if they had baaaahed. A first grader with brown eyes helped a toddler with his mask. Although the children were visible to everyone in the room, they were oblivious to their own charm. The one who danced did it not as a performance, but because she likes to twirl. 

 

John offered cups of cool water to the children, just as Jacob watered Rachel's sheep. Seeing him bend down kindled my love for him. 

 

As part of the service, we broke into small flocks and called one another by name. We asked how each other's lives were going, and the room buzzed with connection. 

 

There are wonderful worship events that I could view online. But I would not get a chance to hug anyone.