Day 62 - Clara's Story

Image by Marco Crupi Visual Artist,
via Flickr

The senior pastor of the church I attend, Pastor Andy, uses stories to illustrate points in his sermons. One of those stories several months ago concerned one of his former pastors from his high school days who turned out to be one of my high school classmates, leading me to a small-world reflection. Last Wednesday at a new members class, he told us he hadn't always told stories in his sermons. He used to base his sermons strictly on theology. Clara's story changed that. Here is Clara's story which she had not told anyone until she was in her 80s and in a nursing home when she told it to Pastor Andy.

In 1930, Clara was a young wife and mother. That same year, her father lost his job and he and her mother moved in with Clara's family. Only Clara's husband had a job to support them all. But after just a couple of years, her husband died. Clara was able to keep herself together and her emotions under control until after the funeral. Then, when they all returned to the house, Clara went into a room by herself, sat down, and began to cry. While she was crying, she felt a hand on her shoulder and it calmed her. She thought it was her father, so without turning around, she raised her hand to place hers on her father's, but there was no hand on her shoulder.

The next day, she walked out of the house and down the street. And in a window she saw a sign advertising a job to be filled. She got the job and was able to support her family until her father was able to find a job and her children finished school.

After telling Pastor Andy the story, she asked him if he thought that it was God's hand she had felt that day. Pastor Andy's response was that of course it was God's hand. But Clara had been too worried that people wouldn't believe her that she had refrained from telling anyone.

Pastor Andy said it was Clara's story that changed the way he prepared his sermons. He asked Clara if he could tell her story. She gave him permission. Pastor Andy thought about all the people who would have benefited from Clara's story, if she had shared it earlier.

So I don't want to put off telling this story until I am in my 80s and in a nursing home. A few weeks after Mom died, I felt a hand on my shoulder, too. I thought it was Mom just letting me know she hadn't left for good. I had been worried that her prayers for me and my siblings would stop protecting us. But the touch on my shoulder gave me assurance that she would still be watching over us. And I've tried to pick up the slack when it comes to praying for my family. I don't know if anyone has noticed, but I'd like to hear if you have. And if you have felt a hand on your shoulder, when you know there was no one else in the room, tell your story, too.