BEING TOUCHED

      It’s wonderful that we can so often be touched by the world around us – touched by even the smallest flowers or faraway stars in the sky. Of course I’m thinking here of the non-physical kind of touching, the kind that causes us to say “I was touched by what he said” or “Her performance was very touching.”  We can be touched, in that sense, by the forlorn look on a face, or by a few beautiful words in a sentence, or simply by the rise and fall of a grief-stricken friend’s voice. It’s an invisible kind of touching, like unseen fingers pressing softly on our souls for a few seconds. Recently I gathered with a group of good friends, and I was deeply touched by their sorrowful but brave approach to some unfortunate news they had heard about a colleague. Their sorrow touched me, and so did their courage and wisdom. Their words were like hands held out to each other in solidarity, and I was touched by their sense of fellowship. Their thoughts and feelings were not physical, but they filled the room – and touched me – in an unforgettable way.