Jabs

So this week I was amongst those fortunate enough to receive my first jab of Pfzer vaccine by virtue of the fact I was born in 1953.  While I was booking my appointment with a very friendly receptionist, she was about to put me on hold, adding that she was going to have a “wee look” at possible free times. Before the dreaded musik entered, I casually asked her why she wasn’t taking a big look rather than a wee one? She dissolved into laughter and we ended up having an excellent conversation about the way we talk in this place I call home. We ask someone to put on the big light, whether or not they would like a cup of tea in their hand and ask how on earth George got his ears lowered in the middle of a pandemic.
One summer I worked for a Church in Belfast, visiting parishioners who were ill. It ended up that it was me, rather than the individual I was visiting who received a lift. During that time, I met Ena, who was on the infidelity benefit, wee Shughy who asked me to turn on his emergency heater, and Lilly who was, at the time of my calling, according to her very caring husband,” indisposed as she was in bed with her legs”.
Words carry thoughts. They can inspire as well as condemn. This week we have seen words of hatred emerge on gable ends as evil people, under cover of darkness, express their fear of “the other”. We have heard words of threat and challenge during the EU and UK vaccine standoff until words of moderation won though. We heard again those strong words of encouragement from Sir Tom Moore, an unnlikely hero for our times and listened to angry words and sentences dripping with fear as Myanmar succumbed to another military takeover.
 We may seem to live in overload mode, feeling impotent in the face of “all that stuff”. Sometimes we too need to deliver on our words, our promises. But we can effect change, by taking one small step and doing something to promote peace and hope. A word, email, letter or small gift can make a difference to those on the edge. Be your words.