Several years after Jimmy Cagney had become famous portraying gangsters in Hollywood films, he and his wife were getting into a car in New York when he saw a man standing across the street. "Do you see that fellow over there?" Cagney told his wife. "His name is Nathan Skidelsky. He sat next to me in school." "Prove it" Cagney's wife told him. "Go say hello."
Cagney took the challenge. He made his way across the street, had a brief conversation with the man and then got back in the car. And sure enough, the man really was Nathan Skidelsky. Cagney had remembered correctly. The only problem was that Nathan Skidelsky didn't remember Jimmy Cagney.
I hate it when that happens. And I'm sad to say, it seems to happen a lot. A while back, I was navigating my way through aisles at Wal Mart when I nearly collided with a woman. When she saw me, her eyes lit up with a look of recognition. "Hi!" she said. "Hi!" I said, desperately trying to remember where I had seen her before. She started to show me some of the bargains she had found while shopping, and just then my wife came around the corner. The woman smiled at my wife, then gave me one of those, "Well, aren't you going to introduce us?" kind of looks. But by now, I had forgotten what my wife's name was.
I still don't know who that woman was. The woman with the shopping cart, I mean, not my wife. I hate it when that happens. I hate to forget people. I hate it even more when people forget me. But have you ever wondered whether God might forget you? Have you ever felt as though God has forgotten you? After all, this is a big world, populated by millions and millions of people. It's easy to think that we have gotten lost in the crowd.
That's why I am thankful for the story ...
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