By Brian Eccher

On Wednesday, December 13, Westminster held the first "A Quiet Christmas," which promised a time to slow down and reflect amidst the frenzy of the holiday season. As my wife and I entered the candlelit sanctuary for the service, my mind was still decompressing from the workday and we took our seats near the aisle. I had volunteered for a reading, assumed the spot at the front of the church, and began what was to be a brief devotional. However, when I spoke the words "I will pray when you cannot," a wave of emotion overcame me. I cannot tell you what I was thinking at that moment, but the week before my dad had begun chemotherapy for lung cancer. I struggled to hold back tears and could not get out the last two sentences. Fortunately, my wife was able to finish them for me. I lit my candle, said a prayer, and sat back down – a bit embarrassed if I am being honest.

What happened next is something I will never forget. As those in attendance lined up in the aisle to come forward and light their candles, I began to receive hugs. Whether it was a hand on my shoulder, an arm around my neck, or in one case a full-on bear hug, the people of Westminster physically reached out to support me. They did not know why I had shed tears, but they saw my pain and wanted to comfort me. Some of these were people I have known for a long time; others were individuals I may have met only in a church meeting or waved to at a service. To hug a family member or close friend is easy. To hug someone outside of that inner circle carries a different weight and can mean even more.
When you think of Westminster what comes to mind? The music? The sanctuary? Vacation Bible School? For me it will forever be the embrace of an entire church community at a most unexpected time.