26th December 2018 (Boxing Day)
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| 26 miles is the approximate distance of a marathon. Originally, from 1896 to 1908, the distance was 25 miles (the same as that run by the legendary Greek soldier Pheidippides when he from the Battle of Marathon to Athens to deliver news of a Greek victory, after which he collapsed and died). The marathon distance only became 26.2 miles during the 1908 London Olympics. Queen Alexandra requested that the distance was adjusted so the royal household could see the race from Windsor Castle. |
I over indulged yesterday and was over indulged. however, it was wonderful to spend time with the family. Today I am planning to take things quietly and spend time appreciating the gifts I have been given. I have been very spoiled but I am very grateful.
Siobhan Sheridan is the Civilian HR Director at the UK Ministry of Defence. When I first made her acquaintance she was the Director of People and OD at the UK charity the NSPCC. Siobhan's career started in a customer facing role within financial services; it was clear that she had a flair for understanding and developing rapport with people. On joining the consumer lending business Capital One, her talents were acknowledged and she moved into HR, initially via training and development (she headed up the UK-based Corporate University), before eventually becoming HR Director for the Cards business. Siobhán moved out of London earlier this year and now lives on the coast in a stunning house with the most beautiful views of the sea. She is a popular public speaker (renowned for her pragmatic attitude and passion for doing the right thing). She is also a valued contributor on Social Media - her Twitter handle is @SiobhanHRSheri.
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There have
been two regular features of my Christmas these last few years. One of them is
this series of Advent Blogs, the other is the time that I spend with thousands
of others volunteering for Crisis at Christmas.
Arriving at
Charing Cross Station in the mornings and walking along Whitehall towards the office
I pass too many curled up bodies resting on crumpled cardboard, sheltering in
doorways from the cold night air. It
breaks my heart to see the Big Issue seller with yet another set of new bruises and
to hear the tale of the guy whose sleeping bag was set light the night before.
As I pull my coat more closely around me I know that the chill I feel is not
entirely about the temperature outside, but more from a sense of overwhelming
despair about how some of the world's problems can ever be solved.
Joanna Macy
says that
‘Grace happens when we act with others on behalf of our world.’
And I
guess that is what I see at Crisis every year. People caring enough to act. Just
a one example of that is a woman I will call Karen who volunteered for the
first time about three years ago.
The first
evening in a Crisis centre is a whirlwind rush of so many things. Guests are
welcomed to a centre where they can eat, shower, get their clothes mended, see
doctors and dentists, access the internet, make a call to a loved one, find a
bed for the night. Each centre is run by a group of volunteers whose day jobs
probably ill-prepare them for what they find themselves doing. Spending time
talking with the guests is something we encourage all our volunteers to do, because many of our guest spend their days being ignored, avoided, or worse. Talking
to them is one of the most important things that we do.
During the
rush of that first evening I passed Karen a few times, as she sat quietly
knitting and chatting to guests.
There was something deeply calming about her
presence and her focus and I found that I slowed a little every time I passed
her. Later that evening I saw her talking to a young couple by the front door
who were sleeping on the streets and scared to come in. Over the course of an
hour she patiently coaxed them into the centre to eat, and later I spied her
persuading the woman towards the showers. She came back half an hour later
clearly delighted to be clean for ‘my man.’ And I watched somewhat hopelessly
as the woman and her partner went off again into the night, saying they felt
safer together on the streets than they would in a shelter they didn’t know.
Returning
the following evening Karen asked if I would mind if she went to see if she
could find the woman again, she’d been told by another volunteer that the woman
had been seen earlier in the centre very angry and upset. Karen wanted to find
out why. When she found her the woman explained that she had been sleeping on
the streets for so long that her long dark hair had become thickly matted from
tying it in elastic bands and chronic lack of care. There was a huge ball of
knotted, matted hair at the nape of her neck, so thick and tight that when she
tried to lay down to sleep it hurt her head. As a result, even when she could
get to sleep she was frequently woken by the pain. It was clear she was in a
lot of distress. After her shower of the evening before she had started to feel
hopeful that perhaps the hairdresser might be able to help her. She was angry
because she had been told that all they could do was to shave her hair off.
Having her head shaved she said would make her feel even more ashamed than she
already did. She was inconsolable, her hopes completely dashed.
Every
single one of us I think has a reason for volunteering. Something that caused
us to make the decision to do so. In talking with Karen about what her reason
was she shared with me that she had lost her adult son in a car accident a year
or so before. A proud, strong, elegant woman, she spoke of her loss gently and
with just the faintest glisten of a tear in her eye.
Her heartache was very present but so too was
her warmth, her openness and her compassion.
Over the
course of the next few days I watch Karen sit with the woman and her partner
for hours. She talked with them about their plans for the New Year, helped them
get advice, laughed with them, ate with
them. And throughout all of that she combed. For hours and hours she gently
teased, combed, untangled and snipped the woman’s hair. For three afternoons
and evenings Karen worked with the patience that perhaps only a parent who has
lost their own child could summon.
On the last evening, they walked hand in
hand to the hair salon again, where the woman was treated to her first proper
haircut in many years. Beautifully blow dried she turned to the Karen and I
watched as first they high-fived, and then giggling like teenagers collapsed
into a huge tangle of a hug.
As the
woman left that last evening Karen and I both said good bye to her and her
partner. We never say ‘see you next year’ because we hope, that we won’t. And I’ve
never seen them again. Karen returns every year and continues to channel her
amazing compassion and patience into heartbreak, hope and high fives.
So, as I
contemplate the start of Crisis again this year I hope, somewhat strangely
perhaps, that my heart will be broken every day. Because as the poet David Whyte
says:
‘Heartbreak is our
indication of sincerity…..it may be the very essence of being human, or being
on the journey from here to there, and of coming to care deeply for what we
find along the way.’
I am lucky
enough to care deeply about the work that I do both in my day job and my
volunteering and am blessed to be surrounded by many other colleagues who do
too. They make me want to do better every day because they deserve the best
that I can possibly be. Crisis acts as a special reminder to me though every year.Whilst
it is about finding homes for others I always notice that it helps me to come
home to myself too. To remember some of the qualities that I want to strive to bring
into my life and work every day.
‘The heart is the inner face of your life. The human journey strives to
make this inner face beautiful. It is here that loves gathers within you. Love
is absolutely vital for human life. For love alone can awaken what is divine
within you. In love, you grow and come home to your self. When you learn to
love and let yourself be loved, you come home to the hearth of your own spirit.
You are warm and sheltered.’
John
O’Donohue
Crisis also
leaves me constantly amazed by just what we can achieve as human beings when we
set our mind to do so. And each year it leaves me with a heart full of hope
that we have everything we need to deal with the many challenges that our world
faces today. We just need to crack on, and act on that hope, regardless of what
others might say.
So I’d like
to leave you with some of Joanna Macys words about Active Hope and to wish you
all adventures in the New Year.
‘Active Hope is not
wishful thinking.
Active hope is not
waiting to be rescued by some savior
Active hope is waking
up to the beauty of life
On whose behalf we can
act.
We belong to this
world.
The web of life is
calling us forward at this time.
We’ve come a long way
and are here to play our part.
With Active Hope we
realise there are adventures in store,
Strengths to discover,
and comrades to link arms with.
Active Hope is a readiness
to discover the strengths
In ourselves and in
others;
A readiness to
discover the size and strength of our hearts
Our quickness of mind,
our steadiness of purpose,
Our own authority, our
love for life,
The liveliness of our
curiosity
The unsuspected deep
well of patience and diligence,
The keenness of our
senses, and our capacity to lead.
None of these can be
discovered in an armchair or without risk.
Joanna
Macey, Active Hope
