Each Has a Story to Tell

I visited a couple of friends in hospital yesterday. There’s a queue at the enquiry desk… bustling corridor… busy cafeteria.  So many people, Each has a reason for being here, each has a story to tell.

My friend Geoff’s been in hospital for six weeks. I’ve known Geoff for years. We talk about his story – what he used to do, his family, home improvements, the care package necessary for him to return home… hopefully this week.

In the adjacent bed a Scotsman tells me bits of his story… marrying a Yarmouth girl who visits him each day with food that Geoff helps him eat. A fall has caused a spinal injury so he can’t walk…

I move on to see Jack who had a heart attack a week ago. I’ve known Jack and his story for many years. We talk to Dale, next to Jack, about his wife, heart condition, hopes and fears… about their understaffed ward, nursing staff, working in difficult conditions… each with their own families, problems, unknown stories…

I read Sandi Toksvig describing her visit to Sudan: ‘…I had met FGM victims who described in graphic detail the effect of mutilation on their lives; come across girls deliberately made disabled by their families in order for them to become better beggars;…been enraged by the aid workers I met who were so worn down they no longer seemed to care…’  Individuals with their own trauma, personal suffering, harrowing stories to tell.

I watch the news – Israel, Gaza, Lebanon, Iran… tanks. missiles, bombs… Soldiers, politicians, civilians, bereaved victims… each with their story to tell…

I return to ‘Bridge Over Troubled Water’… my go-to song for nearly fifty-five years:

‘When you’re weary
Feeling small
When tears are in your eyes
I’ll dry them all…’

Everyone has their own pain, need of comfort, story to tell. I can’t deal with them all, but today I pray that I will listen with care and compassion to one story, and be that ‘bridge over troubled water’.