Francis Gay

A sideways look at life:

When someone needs a helping hand,

It feels so good to know, That you can make a difference, And gives an inner glow. Whether family, friend, or neighbour,

Your support is well worthwhile, It can add such value to your life, And really make us smile.

When I wheeled him and his chair into the nurse’s room he looked deflated, like a puppet whose strings had been cut.

Breathing through his oxygen tube seemed to take all his strength. The nursed greeted him, then busied herself with all that needed doing.

As she did so, she hummed a tune. Then she started gently singing. He sat a little straighter and muttered a word or two of the lyric. By the time she was finished they were singing in harmony.

He looked much healthier and years younger. “I love that song,” he said. “I know,” she replied.

As we left, he asked me how she knew that. I could only suggest she had paid attention on a previous visit.

Then I said a silent thank you for her kindness, and the fact that what does us good comes in more forms than just medicine.

Jim came around with a tub of strawberries for us the other day.

After sampling a few and declaring them delicious, I decided to pretend I didn’t know anything about growing the fruits.

How did he manage, I asked, to keep the little beasties from eating them before he could pick them?

“Oh, I try a thing or two,” he replied. “But I don’t worry about it too much. This is the third harvest from my strawberry patch this summer.

“We have more than enough. I just think that what natures gives so generously, nature should also be allowed to feed from.”

It’s not a philosophy I can imagine every gardener agreeing with, but I imagine Mother Nature – and all her little beasties – like it. And keeping her happy can only result in… well… more strawberries for all!

Julia had heard (from me) that Fran was having a tough time.

Fran walked into the coffee shop just as Julia was leaving.

Julia gave her an effusive welcome, a hug, an apology for not popping in more often, a date when they could meet up…then she went on her way.

Later, I told her how impressed I had been with the brief but intense care she had shown – considering she herself was on the way to a radiotherapy appointment.

She waved the notion away. “People get cancer in their breast, their brain, pancreas, their lymph nodes. Lots of body parts can be affected.

“But, I have never yet heard of anyone getting cancer in their kindness muscle. And, while that’s working properly, I plan to keep using it.”

There was nothing I could add. I mentally promised not to let my “kindness muscle” wither away through lack of use... Wherever it might be located.

It was just a little throwaway comment. I had quietly congratulated the cashier on how she dealt with a difficult customer.

Jokingly, I said: “You did well not to swear.”

She waved the thought away.

“I don’t really swear. I used to, in my younger days.

“But, I realised it was going me more harm than good, so I stopped doing it.”

A nothing much kind of line. But, it struck me as powerful. Imagine we weighed everything we did on the same scales; the things we say, the things we do, the things we take into our bodies and our minds. Do they do us more harm – or more good?

And then, should we either keep doing them – or stop.

Easy in theory, more difficult in practice. But definitely a thought worth weighing up.