Touching Moments

Like bookstores? I do. One of the items on my “What To Do When I Get Bored” list is drop in for a visit at the mega-bookstore in the shopping mall. It’s like visiting old friends. I walk up and down the aisles, make note of new books that catch my eye, get a coffee in the first-floor coffee shop, stroll some more and before you know it, I’m back in a good mood and all is right with the world. Management used to provide big, soft leather chairs for customers, but they’re gone. I think they figured out that some people were making the bookstore into a library. Who would do such a thing?

As you know by now, I’m into week seven of maybe twelve weeks in a very small coastal village in Oregon, population about 600, and that’s in the tourist season. Trust me, this is not the tourist season. It doesn’t take long to stroll the main street, all three blocks of it. So, if I find myself on the edge of boredom…did I mention the cold rain, sleet, and high winds of winter…I just put on four layers of warm clothing and drive over to the local bookstore. Which I did yesterday. It is the most delightful little bookstore in the village. In fact, it’s the only one and more than 10 people could not fit inside. Printed on a free bookmarker I read: ”We believe in the printed page.” On my third or fourth circuit through the store, I stopped in the Poetry Section, about four shelves, and I was delighted to find Longfellow, Mary Oliver, and Lawrence Ferlinghetti almost side by side. Who would have imagined? I probably spent too much time leafing through several interesting books, but then I was the only customer. When I left, I had two new books under my arm and a smile on my face. My electronic reader, which now holds about 400 books, will be lonely for a while as I feel the texture of crisp pages and the satisfaction of a real book in my hands. I believe in the printed page, too.

The tactile pleasure of a new book is very real for lots of people. In life, touch is so important. I wonder how many times over the years I have been privileged to hold a hand in a hospital room, or in prayer in a home, in the joyful welcome of a newborn, at a wedding or baptism, or in the quiet of a hospice room, at a graveside. Hands are held in love and in fear, in hope, in despair, for better and for worse. Counting the couple of years of dating in high school, my wife, Sue, and I have held hands for almost 65 years. Our hands have changed a lot over the years but not the meaning of the holding. I hope you realize how fortunate you are to be able to hold someone’s hand, even if momentarily, as a gesture of friendship, companionship or respect. And I hope you will do that today. It’s good for your soul, in the same way we are blessed by the sacred touch of Divine Love. Be blessed today and be a blessing.