Doris

Meeting Doris for the first time is like a lightning storm on a hot summer evening. You have the choice of being afraid or remarking on the beauty of the experience, but you will never forget it.

What is so remarkable about this lady? She is the world’s number one hugger. The first time she met me, she had a hug for me. She has a hug for everyone. Her hugs are not ordinary, though. Each one is filled with love and meaning. They are not merely passed out like business cards at a meeting. Each one is more like a unique greeting card with your name on it.

Doris is special. She is what I sometimes call a hallelujah honey, but with a difference. I have met many women like this who are like chocolate Easter bunnies, sweet on the outside, but hollow on the inside. Doris is solid through and through. Her love gushes out from the inside and is difficult to resist. There is nothing phoney about her.

After the first hug, I tried to avoid Doris. Like a bat chasing mosquitoes with its sonar, she somehow found me cowering in a corner after church. “Good morning, John,” she chirped and gave me a hug. In spite of my best efforts, she always discovered me.

When you first start kneading bread dough, it is difficult, but eventually it breaks down and becomes smooth. In the same way, her hugs softened my resistance until I looked forward to them each week. It was as if each hug took away one hurt inside me. Gradually I succumbed to her love. More than that, her loved transformed me. Rather than being the hug receiver, I started being a hug giver. I have passed her gift on to others.

It has been years since I have seen Doris and her husband, Joe. I do know that if we meet again, there will be a hug for both of them. Doris preaches love. She preaches the best kind. Her love is not just something you merely talk about. It is something that is the very essence of her and is passed on with no expectations.

As Dusty Springfield sang, “What the world needs now is love, sweet love.” What the world needs now is more people like Doris.