"No act of kindness, no matter how small, is ever wasted."
– Aesop
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The dark winters in Govan, exacerbated by tenements that reached the heavens—at least, that’s how it seemed when you were only ten years old—made life thick with gloom. The lamplighters had made their visit, so we hung around the close to keep warm and dry, stretching out the night with friends.
We heard joyful singing somewhere along the dockside of Copeland Road and went to investigate. It was the local church. Lured by the promise of cakes and drinks, we wandered in. We were given a songbook or song sheets and ushered into a pew.
We were soon caught up in the joyful spirit as we sang something like,
“G double O D, Good, G double O D, Good.
I want to be more like Jesus, G double O D, Good.”
Afterward, we received home-baked cakes, drinks, and an invitation to the meeting the following week. But we were kids and soon forgot the kindness of strangers.
It was just a moment in time, but that song and evening, like the Northern lights that emerge from time to time, dance a joyful dance in my head.