The Kindness of Others

Long delays and complications with my flight to Canada last month resulted in extensive time sitting in a cafe in a bleak railway station sorting through the logistics of travel. During the stress-filled afternoon of negotiating with officials and organising new flights with people on the phone (or more often, robots), my endless attempts at securing something was scuppered by constant re-routing via machine and sudden internet disconnect. 

Midway through the mayhem I was interrupted by the unexpected gesture of a young woman who had been sitting at a table on the other side of the cafe. She got up to head out the door, but before she left she placed a ghost cookie on my table and said ‘I thought you might need this. Hope the rest of your day goes better.’

It was a moment of serendipity, of grace.

I smiled at her through misty eyes, said thanks, and when she left I unwrapped it and took a bite. The flavour of ginger and sugar icing touched my taste buds and I went back to the drawing board, tapping away on my laptop, ringing various numbers I had been given by the previous member of staff, being put through to what was an endless string of of machine driven questions, answering yes or answering no, continuing on in circles, and being left exhausted once again by the digital quagmire of the internet.

An hour later and my head was tired.  I felt at my wits end. 

And then the woman behind the counter brought me a second pot of decaffeinated tea and said ‘It’s on me.’ My distress must have been evident as much as I tried to keep calm and carry on.  Her kindness, along with that of the earlier customer, was a balm to my weary soul. 

In the middle of what felt like a cool and impersonal environment there was human connection and warmth.

Finally, near the end of the afternoon, I managed to reroute via Dublin later that evening. On arrival at Dublin airport I made my way to the bus stances to wait for the shuttle to the airport.  By this time it was dark out.  As I walked over the tarmac past airport car parks and roundabouts of buses and cars, suitcase in tow, a bell pealed out over the noise of the traffic.  It was a steady gong marking 10 PM on the clock - a reassuring sound which caused me to look up to where it was coming from: a sturdy and rooted building dating back to the seventies. At the top of the bell tower from which the ringing called out were the words ‘God is love’.  For me it served as a reminder that all would be well.

Comforted by the bell call, I patiently waited for my bus and eventually it arrived. I got on with a few others and was brought to my hotel where I dropped my bags, had a small plate of sweet potato fries and went to bed, grateful for the rest after a long day.  

The next morning (which came far too soon) I stepped into the day with renewed energy and perspective. Circumstances were not going to get the better of me.

These moments of the real, the natural, the human - of the uncontrollable and unforced rhythms of grace are humanity at its best. 

These genuine acts of kindness, given openly and freely, without expecting anything in return is precious and life-giving.

I experienced more of such moments throughout my time in Canada, bringing a renewed sense of perspective and hope: enjoying dinner at a Korean restaurant in Toronto with my brother before watching a play performed by a friend, seeing the miles of colour on the trees when driving to Niagara, chickadees eating from our hands at a national park in Manitoba, brightly lit cumulus clouds on my descent in the airplane, a warm and bittersweet farewell from niece and nephews…

Machines may bring some convenience, but there is nothing like the impact of nature and the kindness of the human soul.