A true-life anecdote accents the value of the Shrine's Masonic mission to children.

While staying at a motel in New Berlin, Wisconsin, I awoke early and decided to go to the restaurant for free coffee. I stepped off to one side to drink my coffee, and a very beautiful young lady wearing the uniform of a hotel employee approached me. Stopping directly in front of me she asked, "Can I hug you?"

I immediately turned to look behind me. Obviously, she must have been addressing someone else. There I spotted a rather tall, slightly overweight man, wearing red, green, and yellow bathing trunks.

"Wait a minute," I thought, and then realized I was seeing my own reflection in the large mirror behind me. I turned back to the young lady, who smiled and again asked, "Can I hug you?"

Of course I was surprised to say the very least. What was this all about? I tried to lean casually against the wall and managed, with my most charming voice, to say, "Huh?"

"You're a Mason, aren't you?" she asked, pointing to my Masonic ring. I confirmed my affiliation, and she said she had better explain why she wanted to hug me. "Good idea!" I thought.

She told me the reason was that she had been born with no joint in the ankle of her left leg, and her parents had been told that nothing could be done to help her. Later entered the Masons. They offered to help her through the Shrine. After repeated operations over several years beginning when she was approximately 11 years old, the Shrine's orthopedic surgeons were able to construct an ankle joint for her. She showed me the scars left from the surgery. They ran from her ankle to her knee, but they were barely noticeable. Instead of being crippled, she had been made whole.

She said what when she recognizes Masons, she approaches them and, in gratitude, gives them a big hug. As she spoke, the sound of her voice and look on her face tore at my heart. Then, finished with her story, she looked up at me and said, "Now, can I please have that hug?"

The lump in my throat prevented me from responding, but I opened my arms, and we embraced. She held me very tight, her face pressed against my chest. I felt a tear run down my cheek. It mixed with the tear she shed. We held each other in silence for a moment. Then she stepped back, placed the palm of her hand against my face, looked up at me, and silently mouthed those two words she so sincerely meant: "Thank you!"

She turned and, with a near perfect stride, walked away.