They walk among us.
Hello, my love.
In the world as it is now, it's easy to assume that human compassion has left the building. Collectively, we are struggling, and not just financially. War feels like it is just around the corner. Many governments now advise households to keep at least three days of food, water, and basic supplies so people can cope independently during short-term disruptions caused by severe weather, cyberattacks, infrastructure failures, or security threats. This guidance appears in the UK’s Be Ready campaign, France’s 72‑hour emergency kit advice, and similar initiatives across Europe, Asia, and North America. Is it any wonder that sparing a passing thought for those around us can feel like a step too far? How can we be there for someone else when our own lives hang in the balance? For many families up and down the country, one unexpected bill or expense can be all it takes to tip the scales into total disaster. It’s not that we don’t care; it's just that we can’t, not at the moment, anyway. But is that the best thing to do – not to care? Isn’t it in our DNA to keep an eye out for those in greater need than ourselves? Or are there real human angels walking amongst us, doing exactly that, keeping an eye out for those who need a hand?
In recent months, my life has taken me down a very stressful and scary path. In fact, this past decade, none of what has happened to me was on my life bingo card. From divorce to cancer. None of us saw that coming. But this autumn, a serious chain of accidents has completely changed my life. I am now walking- no, I’m running down a road that I didn’t even know existed. None of this could ever have been planned, and there doesn’t seem to be a manual telling me what to do or how I am supposed to react. But here I am. I'm trying my best and hoping next year will be better. I am very lucky and surrounded by the most loving, supportive people, yet I still feel so alone on my journey. I know that if I were to talk about it, then there would be so many people there for me, all ready to listen, but I can’t talk about it, not yet, anyway. I am alright, but life has a funny way of pushing us all to the very limits of what we can endure. But what about that old saying, a problem shared is a problem halved? Will sharing our problems help make it better? Sometimes, those who don't understand the situation pick it apart, not knowing what they are doing or the damage they can cause. And if one’s private affairs fall into the hands of people who don't have one's best interests at heart, it can make the whole thing a lot worse. When it hit me. Yes, I’m going through a lot. But so are so many of us, and not many want to or can talk about it. None of us really know what anyone else is going through. How could we, when so much of our lives is stretched to the limit? So how can we be there for others if we don’t know what is going on behind closed doors?
I think I have come into contact this week with a couple of people who I truly believe are the living embodiment of angels. One is a stranger whom I ran into in a lift, and one lives on the other side of the world, whom I don’t deserve, and I wish she’d move here to London. I met the stranger in a lift this week. It was late at night, and I was so tired. Like, bone tired. I was having a bit of a wobble and was finding the whole thing a bit much. I was so caught up in my own head that at first I didn’t see the woman, not until she asked me if I was alright. Now, I did the very British thing and lied, saying I was fine, but she knew I wasn’t telling the truth. She asked me some very probing questions, which I answered without question, something I’ve not done before. This woman was a stranger, and I was feeling broken. But she told me everything was going to be okay. Living in London, there are some unwritten rules of engagement. One of which is that we don’t talk to strangers, especially not at night when one of them is having a moment. Another is that we beat around the bush and don’t discuss private matters with people we don't know. But this woman didn’t stop to think of any of that. She saw that I was struggling and, there and then, decided to step in and offer help. Now, there wasn’t actually anything she could do other than tell me that things were going to get better, but that was all I needed at the time. Yes, life is hard. Very hard. And I never want to go through this again, but it won’t last. Nothing ever does, even if it feels like it at the time.
That woman didn’t need to talk to me. She didn’t get anything out of the interaction. But she was there and willing to ask a stranger if they were alright.
The other angel is the most wonderful woman, living on the other side of the planet. She helped me in a way I don't deserve. I will never be able to thank her enough, but I am happy to spend the rest of my life trying. She helped me, not for thanks or accolades, but because she is an angel. I should also mention my best friend. She has signed a lifelong best-friend contract she can never escape. Just saying. She’s mine for life. These women have helped me for no other reason than that they are angels.
How could I ever help someone the way I have been helped? I’m not clever or talented; I don’t know much about anything, but I can still do things. I was on a bus the other day and saw a passenger in the row next to me, crying quietly on the phone. Now, I knew that there was almost nothing I could do to help, but there was one thing. I dug into my bag, pulled out a packet of tissues, and silently handed them over. It was nothing, really. Tissues are cheap, and I always carry them. But in that moment, we connected, and I helped in a very small way.
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