It's a Wonderful Life.
I love this movie for a million reasons. The cast is comprised of people I respect and admire. When I was growing up in small-town Minnesota, Donna Reed was my shining example of a Midwestern girl going on to doing big things. Jimmy Stewart had a remarkable record of military service. I have cherished memories of watching this film year after year with my father. We watched the black-and-white scenes side-by-side on the blue couch in my parents' basement—bowls of homemade Chex Mix and chocolate peanut butter cups sitting in our laps. The crack of the wood-burning stove rang in the background, and I could smell a slight tinge of smoke as it wafted through the air. In my life, he was the person who pasted the petals back together.
As seasons have passed, I have come to more deeply appreciate the message delivered through this script and story: the far-reaching impact of one life. In the plot of "It's a Wonderful Life," the movie begins with the lead character, George Bailey, contemplating suicide at age 38. It's a heavy start to a popular holiday movie when you stop to think about it. His character was on the brink of financial ruin, struggling in his family relationships, and lacking a sense of purpose in his work. When he compared himself to his peers' accomplishments, he didn't believe he measured up. As the story unfolds, George is afforded a rare glimpse into how radically different (and markedly worse) the world would be if he was not a part of it. This visit to an alternative universe snapped his attention and altered his perception. He realized that his presence on the planet mattered—a lot.
We don't get to watch the reel of what this world would be like without us in the way that George Bailey did. Still, we need to live, work, love, serve, and give, knowing that it will count in ways that we will never fully know. We rarely get to see the ripple effect of our influence – however small or seemingly insignificant. Consider this: a single conversation or statement can alter the trajectory of someone's entire life. In turn, they will go on to impact countless others. Our words and actions are ripples that create waves in the world. We are all making tsunamis in the middle of the ocean we probably won't ever see or know about. What kind of storms are you stirring by simply showing up?
In clinical practice, I often know my losses but don't always see the victories. Many of my wins are invisible to me—and always will be. Therapeutic transformation isn't limited to what I witness in real-time when a client sits in front of me. The real magic occurs when clients walk out my door and go on to lead altered lives.
The gains I do get to witness spur me forward. Moments in the therapy room where something finally "clicks." Excited weekly reports from clients that start with, "I finally did it. . ." Letters from people that I receive years after we terminate treatment. These are the intermittent reinforcers that help me stay tethered to confidence. They remind me that something I do seems to be somehow working, so I stick to it.
I press on because I trust the process.
I remain committed to being who I believe I am called to be.
I stay centered on my what and my why--in all roles, all places.
I do this for everyone whose path intersects with mine.
I live in my own Bedford Falls. You do too.
As twenty-twenty comes to a twisted close, I'm not sure where you see yourself in the arc of the "It's a Wonderful Life" plot. Perhaps you identify with the George Bailey standing on the bridge, shivering cold in the snow. Looking down in darkness and desperation. Devoid of hope. Ready to be done. Or, perhaps, your reality more closely matches the joy of the closing scene. You are having a happy ending to this weird science- fiction-slash-horror movie we've all been cast in the last year. An overture of Auld Lang Syne is apropos as you raise your glass and celebrate.
Regardless of where you are today, remember: YOU HAVE BEEN GIVEN ONE LIFE.
One.
Only one.
It's not guaranteed to be an easy life or one that seems fair. You aren't promised an existence without struggle, pain, or disappointment.
But this one life you have -- it is a gift. A powerful one. And that is a truly wonderful thing.
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