Chapter 1
A Hug for Nancy
“Welcome to The Logan,” Joyce chirped as she raised her head from her paperwork to greet her new guests. “We’re glad you’ve chosen to spend some time with us.”
Joyce and Larry Coffin owned and operated a quaint home-style hotel near the boardwalk in Ocean City, New Jersey. At first glance, the two young women standing on the other side of the check-in counter seemed fairly typical of their summer vacationers. Both were in their early twenties, and they had come to The Logan for some relaxation and sun.
But as Joyce gave them their room keys and the standard instructions, she noticed that one of the young women, Nancy, kept her head down and eyes to the floor, obviously avoiding eye contact. She didn’t speak a word but left all the talking to her companion. Uncomfortable with Nancy’s glaring silence, Joyce was relieved when the two women departed for their room.
The next morning when Nancy came through the reception area, Joyce smiled warmly as she offered a morning greeting. “Hi, Nancy! How are you this morning?”
Nancy returned her greeting with stark silence.
Maybe Nancy hadn’t heard her. She tried again, “Did you sleep well?”
Still no response.
Undaunted, Joyce made another effort, “You must have slept well because you look so bright-eyed and bushy-tailed!”
Joyce’s cheerful words were met with more awkward silence. Not knowing what else to say, Joyce was relieved when Nancy’s friend appeared and rescued Joyce from her fumbling monologue. The two women headed for a day on the beach, and Joyce returned to her duties.
Over the next few days, Joyce made a deliberate effort to converse with Nancy. Although Nancy never spoke a word, a weak smile or uneasy giggle would occasionally escape her lips. It seemed as if she wanted to let Joyce in but didn’t dare.
Something about Nancy pulled at Joyce’s heart. Why had Nancy built such a barrier between herself and the rest of the world? What had caused her to retreat into silence?
Soon it was time for the two unlikely friends to check out and return to their homes in Pennsylvania. As they walked out of the hotel, Joyce felt an urgent need to do something to break through Nancy’s self-imposed shell. Running up to her room, Joyce frantically searched for some token she could give Nancy. As she looked around her room, she silently prayed, Lord, is there something I can give Nancy to let her know you love her?
Finding a small gift, Joyce hurriedly wrapped it and ran outside, hoping it wasn’t too late. She breathed a sigh of relief when she spotted the two women loading their things into Nancy’s 1978 Buick Skylark.
“Wait, Nancy! I have something for you. I just wanted you to know that you are special and that God loves you. I’m glad you came.” As Joyce handed Nancy the trinket, she felt compelled to accompany it with a big hug. As she wrapped her arms around her shy, perplexing guest, Joyce felt as if she were hugging a lifeless mannequin.
Nancy was obviously taken off guard by the hug but maintained her unresponsive exterior as she abruptly and silently retreated into her car. As the car left the loading area, Joyce prayed, "Lord, I feel so helpless and frustrated. I tried to show her your love, but I failed. I so wanted to hug her hurt away, but I was naive to think I could make a difference with such an insignificant gesture. You know what makes Nancy hurt and what will heal her. I’ll never see her again, but you can be with her always. Please wrap your arms of love around her and keep her in your care."
Several times during the months that followed, Joyce felt prompted to lift Nancy’s unknown hurts to her all-knowing heavenly Father. Her prayers were often accompanied by a longing to decipher the riddle of Nancy’s silence.
Meanwhile, back in Pennsylvania, the effects of that one “insignificant” hug were beginning to bear fruit. Joyce’s persistent kindness and simple hug sparked a major turning point in Nancy’s life. A peek back into Nancy’s childhood reveals why Nancy had shrouded herself in silence.
Nancy had grown up in what she considered a fairly typical Pennsylvania Dutch home. But Nancy’s home lacked even the most basic displays of affection, and her parents strictly limited her social interaction. One of five children, Nancy never had a birthday cake or party. She wasn’t allowed to participate in extra-curricular activities or go to slumber parties or have friends over to her house, and she couldn’t date until after high school graduation. Nancy’s parents took her and her siblings to church when she was young, but they eventually stopped going; Nancy and her sister occasionally went on their own. Nancy did have a few pleasant childhood memories of family vacations and exchanging gifts on Christmas morning, and she knew her parents hadn’t neglected her emotional well-being intentionally; but the lack of affectionate expression from her mom and dad had deeply wounded her heart.
Her dreams of friendship had been dashed on several occasions when she’d dared to open her heart—only to find rejection. Lately, she had managed to maintain a couple of shallow friendships, but those activity-driven relationships left her hungry for more. She longed for someone who dared look beneath the surface. She wanted more than a companion for movies or shopping. She wanted someone she could trust with her pain.
More than anything else, Nancy yearned to be loved.
By the time Nancy checked in to The Logan, she was emotionally crippled. Fearing further rejection, Nancy had padlocked her heart and withdrawn into the safety of an almost silent existence. She spoke only when necessary to the few people she allowed inside her lonely, walled fortress. When Joyce had tried to penetrate her refuge with kindness, Nancy hadn’t known how to respond.
But as Nancy thought back to Joyce’s kindness and her surprising hug two months earlier, something warm began to stir in her heart. Not allowing herself to debate, she opened her desk drawer, took out a paper and pen, and began to write.
Dear Joyce,
You may not remember me. I’m the lady who didn’t talk. I loved my time at your hotel this summer. You had no way of knowing it, but you gave me a very special “gift.” Your hug was the first I ever remember receiving in my whole life.
I know that God loves me and that I need to get close to him again. Thanks for letting him love me through you.
I will never forget.
Love,
Nancy
As soon as Nancy put down her pen, the inner debate began. She was so afraid of appearing a fool and of being rejected once again. But something deep inside insisted that Joyce would make a trustworthy friend. As Nancy sealed and mailed the letter, she hoped against hope that Joyce hadn’t given up on her and would write back.
Several days later, as Joyce shuffled through a large stack of mail, she came across a letter that had been forwarded from The Logan to their winter home in Maryland. She puzzled over the unfamiliar name and address as she slit the envelope open.
As Joyce read Nancy’s brief letter, tears streamed down her cheeks. Her receptive heart was quick to pick up on the tentative plea for friendship written clearly between the lines. Joyce responded immediately, and a special, long-term friendship was born.
Future trips to Ocean City were always spent with Joyce at The Logan, and over time, the warm, caring woman trapped inside Nancy was set free. Reminded of God’s love through the embrace of Joyce’s arms, Nancy slowly learned to trust again. Through the years Nancy and Joyce have continued to exchange letters written on “hugs” stationery. Several times a year they talk on the phone. They frequently exchange little “hugs” gifts, and they faithfully remember each other in their prayers.
Today, almost twenty-five years after that first hug, Nancy is a totally transformed person. It’s as if someone gave her a heart transplant. She enjoys chatting on the phone, is active in ministry, and looks forward to graduating from Bible school. Nancy is now so outgoing that she even talks, shares, and prays with perfect strangers. And when she visits her seventy-three-year-old mother, she expresses her love with an extra big hug.
“Never in a million years would I have suspected that God would use such a small effort on my part to bring about such big results,” Joyce reflects. Joyce has no doubt that it was actually God who hugged Nancy that summer day in front of The Logan. He simply borrowed her arms.
