Realising no big blessings can be a blessing in itself

In younger days, Alison was a keen hillwalker. When we talked, via video-link, the other week she told me she’d just been on a carefully controlled visit to a local park.

“It was nothing like climbing Ben Lomond,” she said, “but even having the fresh air on my cheeks was still unexpectedly wonderful. I’m 90 and I’ll never climb a mountain again, but life – as limited as it is now – still isn’t short of blessings. The

Is there anything sadder than seeing one person walk where two used to?

The distance between their house and the supermarket had been their regular exercise. Then he died. And then, a fortnight later, I saw her walking the path by herself, with her head down. My heart broke for her. But, as someone once said, the end of every successful marriage is that one person is left behind for a while.

It’s sad. But it’s also heroic. Their very loneliness is a sign of promises kept, or hard work put in, of forgiveness, patience, hope… love. There really ought to be a medal or some sort of award for those who achieved so very much against the odds; for those who walk alone where two used to walk.

Lacking that, the least we can do is walk with them for a while as a very inferior but well-meaning second best.

Write to:

difference is, now the bigger ones are off-limits, I’m finally seeing the smaller ones blessings more clearly, the closer-to-home ones.”

I saw someone bustling at the side of the screen before moving on. “And this is one of my favourite blessings, something I have taken for granted for most of my life, but it still makes me happy. No matter what is happening in the world!”

And she held up a cup of tea.

Communities and individuals are exceeding expectations when it comes to helping others these days.

But examples of non-covid heroism haven’t gone away.

Annie, a young wife and mother of three boys (who normally has her hands full enough) took to social media to ask who “out there” needed help or even just a listening ear.

I knew she had been battling cancer the past few years, but I didn’t immediately make the connection. She had just received her all-clear. After a dance with her husband and a good cry, she reached out to others in difficulty.

“Friends and family filled my world to overflowing with love and practical help when I needed it,” Annie told me. “It would be a shame to let all that positivity go to waste.”

Isn’t it a wonderful thought that when we help someone we have a share in helping everyone that they help?

They say “judge not”, but I have thoroughly enjoyed judging the first ever Renfrewshire Council Sheltered Housing Poetry Competition.

I was expecting it to be hard work. What it actually turned out to be was a great insight into sheltered living during the virus. There was some painful reality, a fair bit of frustration, and missing of friends, but, more than that, there was hope for the future, a determination to get through this and lots and lots of humour.

I got the distinct impression that writers didn’t enter the competition to win it. They entered it to let the outside world know they were sticking by each other and that they would not be beaten by this current annoyance.

To all of my new poet-friends – thank you for making my day and lifting my heart. Stay strong, stay safe, and I hope I’ll see you all soon!