Anam Cara: Part 1 of Several

An Anam Cara is a soul friend. Join me as I share experiences of soul friends that have walked with me in my continuing journey of faith.

When I was in college, I attended the United Methodist Church in our college town, Ada First UMC. The pastor there is Rev. Wayne Albertson. Wayne is a small man, even smaller than me. In fact, it seemed as though his tousled gray hair and the long, scraggly beard hanging halfway to his chest were a futile effort to keep him from getting swept away in the fierce winds of the Midwest plains. And yet, in that small, aging body lives an ever-growing mind and an unimaginably large heart.

Almost every Sunday morning, I would meet some friends for breakfast at the coffee shop, and we would wander over to the 10:30 service at Ada First. And every Sunday, I walked in with anticipation. I was eager to see what hymns we would be singing – Wayne always had a knack for choosing beautiful music that called us to worship. I’d count down the minutes until the choir would unleash yet another heavenly anthem from the very high choir loft. I was giddy as the sermon began, because I knew Wayne was about to tell some grandfatherly story that would perfectly sum up the call that the scripture had placed on our lives that week. But as wonderful as the worship at Ada First was, the part I always looked forward to most was our departure.

I say this not because I couldn’t wait to get out of the church. And despite what many of you might be thinking, I was not eager to get home so as not to miss the kickoff of the Steelers’ games. No, I couldn’t wait for the service to end because I desperately wanted a hug.

That’s right, a hug. While every other pastor I’ve had has shaken the hands of congregants as they left worship, Wayne clogged the pastoral receiving line with hug…after hug…after hug. But I always waited in line for my hug. Almost everyone waited. Sometimes on crowded Sundays, I had to wait 5 or 10 minutes for my hug. Yet every Sunday, for a sacred moment each week, I shared a loving embrace with a smiling, bearded pastor in a sleepy Midwestern town. It was, without fail, the highlight of my week.

I still remember Wayne hugs. He would hug me with more might than one would expect from such a small body. Somewhat annoyingly, his beard would always scratch up against my face. And after the embrace, he’d always hold his embrace at arm’s length, for just a moment, and look directly into the person’s eyes with total, unconditional, Christian love.

I don’t see Wayne that often anymore, but from time to time our lives cross paths for an hour, an afternoon, or a weekend. And when we see each other, we always begin and end our time with an embrace. He still squeezes pretty hard. His beard still irritates my cheek. And he still locks eyes with me. And in those embraces, nothing else matters. In those times, I am sharing a sacred moment with Wayne, a true anam cara, a soul friend. I am thankful for many things in my life, and today I am especially thankful for “Wayne hugs.”