Forgive me. It’s not yet Thanksgiving and I’m thinking of Christmas. Guess it’s because I’m sitting in our basement/movie room and looking at a poster of Jimmy Stuart and Donna Reed in Frank Capra’s “It’s a Wonderful Life.”
I love George Bailey, and I’m moved by his story, the tale of a man whose sacrifice for his friends seems to go unnoticed, who seems to have little to show for it, who faces bankruptcy and a jail sentence for something he didn’t do.
And then Clarence (what a name for an angel) gives George a gift: a glimpse of a world where he had never been born, and Bailey realizes his life does matter.
Best of all, in the end George is saved by his friends. They did notice after all. I know it’s not manly, but I can’t watch that last scene around the Christmas tree without crying. I tear up because I, too, know what it’s like to be saved by friends.
Partly, friends like that are the reason I wrote my book. And, more-than-partly, friends like that are the reason I find courage to get out of bed every morning. And the reason I find joy and fulfillment when I do.