The movie about George Bailey is a holiday favorite, and has been for decades. George begins as a boy eagerly dreaming about traveling the world, then falls into running the family business. While his aspirations are on hold he complies with a mundane routine, shared with a wife who adores him and four sweet children. He is indeed rich with
love, yet discontent itches like a rash, so that he cannot fully embrace what he has.
As marriage movies go, this one is epic. It shows the reality of painting and scraping to build a home, and the evolution of a partnership over piano practice, and shared sorrows. Mary is a perceptive wife, and wisely knows when to speak and when to keep quiet. In the end it is through loss that George finds out how blessed he truly is.
But there is one
snippet of the film that replays in my mind almost every day. When George goes up his stairs, the knob on the banister comes off in his hands. He knows it is broken but he never gets around to fixing it. After his life falls apart, though, when the knob comes off in his fist... he kisses it.
John and I have a waterbed, and every morning the padded siding slides off. Every morning I put it back on. Sometimes I think briefly of super glue, but the thought evaporates in
the next few minutes of wrangling children into clothes and shoes.
I shake my head at my own inability to fix something. There are other aspects of my marriage that come loose too often, like impatience, and expectations. Robotically, I pick them up and put them back on.
"Maybe this time the Sunday morning rush for church will go smoothly."
Clunk, that expectation falls off in my hands. But maybe the
imperfections are not always a problem to be eradicated. Maybe I could just watch it happen.
"That's right, Getting out the door with hair brushed and mittens on is a tussle. No one is bad or to blame."
Perhaps I could just put my hands around those children and my husband and kiss them instead.
