Story Magnet

Maybe it’s because I’ve seen it so many times I can practically recite it from memory, but I think there are few situations in life that can’t be illustrated using a scene from It’s a Wonderful Life. I thought this week about Uncle Billy; the quirky, forgetful, and loveable character who, but for the presence of George Bailey, would have lost the family business. I’ve often wondered why Frank Capra decided to surround Uncle Billy with wild animals—the crow in the building and loan office and the squirrel that seems to comfort him when he can’t find the missing eight thousand dollars. No explanation is given about the animals. They’re there, I think, to suggest that as quirky and forgetful as Uncle Billy might be, he is a good-hearted man, loved even by the beasts of the field that are inexplicably drawn to him.

I thought about Uncle Billy this week because I had a seemingly random conversation with an elderly woman at a local shopping mall. I was sitting outside a bookstore reading, waiting to pick my son up from school. She stopped and asked if I knew where in the mall people went to rent motorized scooters. The woman’s daughter had gone to get one and it seemed to her as though she had been gone for a long time. I pointed to the mall rental sign and then listened as the woman told me about how hard it was getting old.

She told me of multiple hospitalizations and diagnoses of both osteoarthritis and myeloma she had received during the past year. Her husband had survived a heart attack, she told me. She said that she thought she bore her illnesses and pain better than he and suggested that if anything happened to her, he would probably start drinking again. He’d stopped twenty-five years ago. My friend, if I can call her that, carried a tone that suggested she wasn’t sure it was worth putting up with the pain anymore. I started to tell her that I would pray for God’s blessing in a very real, tangible way for her that day when her daughter arrived with the scooter. I complimented her on raising such a caring daughter, wished her God’s blessing, and then prayed for this dear elderly woman.

This isn’t the first time that a complete stranger has approached me or sat down next to me and started telling me very personal stories. I’m starting to wonder if I’m some kind of a magnet, especially for elderly people, in much the same way Uncle Billy draws small animals to himself. I don’t go looking for these conversations, they just seem to happen. I believe they are divine invitations to speak blessing, encouragement, and hope into someone’s life. I’m not sure I succeeded the other day. I was a compassionate listener. I prayed for this stranger. But I fumbled to put into words that there is a gracious God in whose image she was made; the God of all hope who sent His son to bring healing to all sadness and sickness and death.

May God have mercy on this dear woman. May He fill up by his grace where I was lacking. May I cling closer to Him and His word and be better prepared for my next divine appointment.  May I truly give thanks for each opportunity God presents.





97. Opportunities to be a compassionate listener. God’s grace in filling up where I am lacking.

98. Warm, sunny January afternoons and the opportunity to get out for a hike and soak up some vitamin D.

99. Tulip bouquets in supermarkets.

100. The Spring countdown sign at the local nursery.

101. Pheasants

102. Emergency rooms.

103. Cold medicine

104. Surprise parties

105. Having a husband who loves me well and is easy to respect and grace, once again, to fill up where I am lacking.

106. The willingness of my brother and his wife to lead the Love and Respect class at church.

107. Apologies

108. Rain that falls on both the just and the unjust.

109. An invitation to walk.

110. Antivirus software.

111. A doctor’s report that is 10,000 times better than the first one.

112. Seeing the deer while on route 6 with a car full of youths and having enough time to brake; also that the driver following closely behind noticed that I was braking.

113. Childhood memories that make me smile.