More Than A Touch

More Than A Touch

More Than A Touch “Are you Brother Bo?” asked the nervous fiftyish woman. I was peacefully seated, waiting for the prayer meeting to start when this frenzied lady appeared before me. “Uh…gee…,” I stammered, “I don’t know. What will you do to me if I say yes?” “Oh my gosh! You are him!” she cried aloud. She started jumping up and down, her hands shaking. “Ma’am, whatever you’re accusing me of, I didn’t do it!” “Brother Bo, I’m Liza, and ever since I read KERYGMA, I’ve always dreamt of seeing you face-to-face… and here you are! Oh my goodness…” her breath caught in her throat, “I think I’m going to die!” “No please, don’t! Not here! They’ll think I did it.” “Brother Bo, can I just touch you?” “What?!” “Just one slight tiny touch,” she pleaded, “perhaps your holiness will rub off on me…” Her trembling forefinger was now poised aloft, ready to touch me on my right shoulder. Believe me, I had never felt so creepy in my entire life. Suddenly, I felt like an ancient relic being venerated. I stood up abruptly. “I’m afraid that’s not possible, Liza.” “But…” Her face turned pale and totally devastated. I opened my arms wide and smiled my best smile. “But can I give you a warm hug instead?” It felt good

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