Advent 14 - underground blessings

Today I went up to London at rush hour for the first time in a long while. It was crazier than ever and I let three tubes go at Victoria before I was brave enough to try and muscle my way in.

On the way out I saw a man having a similar struggle getting onto the up escalator, I paused for a brief moment and gestured for him to jump on. His eye's almost popped out of his head and he did a double take as he stepped on. It made me smile.

I was then delighted on my return journey to see a poster about Michael Landy's Art on the underground project. It just encourages tube users and staff to report acts of kindness. The Guardian critic thought it was devoid of enchantment and it's certainly not the most magical of ideas but I LOVE the celebration of kindness in this way and found the range of stories heart-warming.

Here are just a few...

I was on the Tube from City Airport into town when two men in suits got on opposite me, talking business. As they talked, one of them took a sheet of paper and started folding it. He made a beautiful origami flower, and just as he was about to get off, turned and presented with a smile to the young woman sitting next to him. The smile quickly spread to her, and then to everyone else in the carriage as we saw the look of surprise and delight on her face.

I was trying to pass an elderly man in the train to get off. By coincidence we both kept stepping in the same direction. As we eventually got round each other, he joked, “You dance divinely!” I was feeling a bit bothered by the experience but that made me laugh. It was a sweet thing to say and it made an annoying situation fun. That’s a form of kindness, I think.

Once, I was on the Tube travelling back from my friends' house in Clapham. An Aussie guy got up and made everyone play musical chairs - every stop for about 10 stops, it was still going when I had to get off. Some of us were very English and reserved at first, then politely amused, but in the end he got us all joining in. Still makes me smile to remember it.

Between Victoria and Vauxhall, I was weeping. A woman asked me gently, "Are you alright, my dear?" And I said, "No. My father died." She moved to sit next to me and held my hand. I talked about my father's love. She talked about losing her son. She closed her eyes, and as she prayed to Jesus, I prayed to Allah, for the strength to walk that chasm where grief resides. At Vauxhall, I left, saying goodbye to a woman whose name I do not know, but who had reached deep into my heart.

I'll leave the last word to this passanger...

I'm from Liverpool and just started working in London and having had knee surgery was wary getting the train and Tube on crutches. I'd heard all the stories about rude and inconsiderate London commuters. So I was hugely surprised that I got offered a seat every day on both the Overland train and the Tube. I think sometimes people just need the opportunity to be kind.