A few years ago, a friend of mine lost his job. Things were looking bleak as he worried about how he would provide for his family. I wanted to comfort him but there wasn’t much I felt I could do, it’s not like I had any great job leads or anything for him. So, I did the only thing I could do to let him know that I cared and to help myself feel like I was supporting him in some way. I gave him a St. Joseph key chain. It was a poor quality, plastic painted silver to look expensive key chain, the kind that charities send to you in the mail hoping you’ll make a donation. I told him the story of St. Joseph and how he is the patron saint for the unemployed. I gave him a hug and as I walked away from him, I wondered if he’d take that crummy keychain and toss it in the garbage as soon as he got home, muttering under his breath about what a cheapskate I am.
A year later, he had been working again for several months, and the two of us were chatting outside the school where we had just dropped off our children. He told me that he wanted to show me something. He reached in his pocket to pull out his keys, and there was the St. Joseph medal I had given him, dangling with his house and car keys. He told me that he prayed to St. Joseph every day and thought of me every time he used his keys. My little gesture made a difference in his life, however small a difference it might have been and when he shared that story with me I felt well-used by God.
Last week the Lincoln High School Class of 1984 celebrated their 25th reunion. I didn’t attend, but received a lovely email from an old friend that made me wish I had. Sarah was my very first-ever friend and a best friend at that. We were next-door neighbors since infancy until Sarah’s family moved after kindergarten. We attended different schools, her public, me Catholic, but got together frequently for play dates and birthday parties. While I was in middle school my family moved and I attended the public middle school because I knew I had a friend waiting for me there. Sarah easily welcomed me into her circle of friends and made my life in those turbulent years just a little bit easier. In the past 25 years, I have run into Sarah maybe once or twice. Like many friendships, we had simply lost touch.
Then I got her email. She told me that when we were in grade school, I had given her a blue lace cross. I cannot recall every giving her anything like that. But she told me that she still has it, she keeps it in her purse, and she wanted to show it to me. Wow! After all these years, some small childhood gesture of friendship, completely forgotten by me, meant so much to her that she held on to it for years. I can’t wait to reunite with her now so that I can see it, and so that I can see her. Sometimes you let the years wipe away the memories of the people you love.
But God never forgets. He remembers every little prayer we whisper to His heart. He remembers every kind little deed we did for another person. He remembers every “I love you”, every “I’m sorry”, every “please help me”. God is faithful throughout the years, in good times and bad. He takes all of our little, insignificant efforts and grows them into something big and wonderful that we will only see on the other side of life. But sometimes he gives us little glimpses of that growth right here and now, and it is for those glimpses that I am most grateful because they keep me going when the crosses get heavy.
Thank you God for your everlasting faithfulness. Thank you for allowing me to see those glimpes of my growth through little gestures. Amen.
