touch

The picture above is dear to my heart. It is my residence hall staff from this year. There is a special story behind the meaning of that hug, but today it simply captures my heart.

I'm in a group counseling class for school, and part of our requirement is participating in our own group with other classmates. While I cannot share details or names, I can say I am blessed week to week. Today was a good, hard, messy, honest day, and my mind hasn't stop thinking about it.

While I already journaled about what I learned, things God reminded me, and such, I want to share what one of my peers said:

"Sometimes when I go a really long time without being touched, by anyone, I feel less human."

Gosh, I've heard this before, but it spoke loud to me in the biggest way. The things that make us feel less human, that make us doubt our ability to be loved, to be cared for by others.

I can't even put it into words. I know those difficulties, frustrations, struggles, messy messy sticky things that make me feel less human, that makes me doubt in every way that I am loved. In those moments, I am quick to feel alone. I am not, and you are not. There is solidarity in feeling rejected - I am certain everyone has felt it or been there.

But how beautiful is it that rejection can be healed by others? Holding hands, a hug, those touches mean something, physical reassurance that we are loved. In those moments when we are alone that is precisely when we must give. That's what we did. We hugged our friend in group, clenched her hand, until she felt loved. She is human.