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Maybe Claude Aldridge is our George Bailey.
You remember George Bailey, don’t you? Or maybe you know him better as Jimmy Stewart of “It’s A Wonderful Life?” Whichever way, Stewart proved the holiness of ordinary people.
But that’s enough about George Bailey. You’ve probably already seen the movie again this year, anyway.
This is about Claude Aldridge, who retired last year as resident manager of The Plaza, who nobody ever considered an ordinary man. He proves that over and over every year around Christmas when folks ask him to tell about buying a television set for his wife, Geneva. The story always makes them feel better. Like seeing “It’s A Wonderful Life” at Christmas makes us all feel better.
This year the request wasn’t even personal.
Diane Ryan, receptionist and supply pastor coordinator for the North Carolina Lutheran Synod, wrote to say she had read last year’s column about Claude for devotions at the synod office this year. And she asked if it could be run again.
So here goes:
It happened on a Monday night. Claude and Geneva were meeting Helen and Walter Goodman for dinner. But the Goodmans weren’t there when the Aldridges arrived.
So Claude told Geneva he thought he’d go to Wal-Mart and get that TV they were planning to buy while she waited for their friends.
She agreed. He went and bought the T and rolled it out to the car.
“And I sensed somebody was near me,” he says, “so I turned around, and there were two young men in their 20s or 30s, right clean-cut looking guys.”
They had stopped a van right next to the cart holding the television set.
“And they had lifted the television set off the cart,” Claude says, and were carrying it to their van.
“Captain,” one of them said, “we’ll relieve you of your television set. We’ve got room in the van.”
Claude didn’t hesitate at all.
“Swell, fellows,” he said, “that’s great. If you need it worse than I do, I’ll give it to you and help you load it, but I have to pray about it first.”
And he bowed his head and began to pray.
“Heavenly Father,” he said, “thank you for bringing these friends I’ve never met to help me load my television. I ask you to bless them materially with their needs, not their wants, bless them physically that they can work and make an honest living and bless them spiritually that they can feel your presence as I feel it now. Amen.”
And he opened his eyes.
“They had placed the television back on the cart. One of them was at the van, closing the doors, and the other was sort of rubbing his hands, and he said, ‘Mister, I’ll be glad to help you load your television.’
“So I opened the trunk. There was a tire laying on the bottom, and he asked me, ‘Is the tire bolted down?’ and I said, ‘No,’ and he moved the tire, and I helped him and we put the television in, and we closed the lid.
“And I stuck my hand out and said, ‘Friend, I really appreciate your help, God knew just who to send me, didn’t He?’ ”
And the two young men agreed and got back in the van.
“I moved my cart,” Claude says, “got in my car, and we both drove out of the parking lot. I turned left and they turned right.”
And, of course, he told Geneva and the Goodmans what had happened as soon as he got back to the restaurant.
“And my knees began to knock,” he said. “I felt like everybody in there could hear me.”
But that didn’t keep him from sharing the story with his pastor, the Rev. Glenn Dickens, on Saturday morning.
On Sunday, Dickens preached on “Acknowledging the Presence of God.”
“I’ve never seen those two young men since,” he says, “and I probably never will. But I can’t claim any victory for either one. God just led me to them.”
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Rose Post