What’s a moment when a stranger completely restored your faith in people?
The long-gone kindness of a Scottish stranger—who could restore such kindness to a stranger?
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In the 1993 Christmas season, I travelled to Scotland. I hired a car and drove around Edinburgh by myself. It was a bitter cold day, with very short daylight.
I drove out of the city and then got lost. Darkness was about to fall, and I was far from where I stayed. To avoid driving onto the motorway to Glasgow, I turned at the last roundabout into a grass field, then into a slum area. I realised I was completely lost, and unease began to creep in.
Eventually, rescue flashed through my eyes—a moving double-decker bus. Instantly, I chased after it. When it stopped, I stopped. That motion carried on for about fifteen to twenty minutes before we arrived at the bus terminus.
I jumped out of my car, ran up to the bus driver, and told him my situation. He was about sixty years old, speaking with a very strong Scottish accent: “Mate, I noticed you’ve been tailing my back. I thought you were a spy.” Then he giggled. He told me he would drive back to the city and asked me to wait a few minutes.
On our way back, he slowed down at each set of traffic lights—just to make sure I caught up with him. About twenty minutes later, we drove into the city centre. I pulled up, waved to him with a big smile, and shouted loudly: “Thank you very much, Sir!”
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Today, I watched a movie where the anchor actor said: “Those who live on the open grassland have big hearts, whereas urban dwellers tend to be narrow-minded.” While there may be some truth in it, I won’t paint everyone with the same brush. The Scottish man—an urban dweller—had a big heart, even though life was tough for him.
That said, how often do we see young people give seats to elderly people on a train or a bus? Every time I travel, I only see the aged give seats to other aged passengers. Perhaps it’s not about where you live—it all comes down to the heart: a big one that embodies compassion and kindness for others in need.
Many years ago, my friends and I went to see fireworks along a harbour road. We arrived early and found a good spot. I sat on the edge of a cement wall and waited. Soon people began to arrive, and a father with his young son tried to squeeze in. So my friends and I moved aside to give them enough space to sit. There was room for two or three. But I overheard the father say to his son: “Move over and stretch out so that no one can squeeze in.” I was astonished—fearing that his son would grow up like him: selfish, unwilling to share love.
So today, if I see a young person show kindness to an elderly person on a train or a bus, or to a disabled stranger needing a helping hand to cross the road, I might restore my faith in the younger generation.
Perhaps the saying—”To rear without teaching is the father’s fault; to teach without severity is the teacher’s laziness”—should be re-emphasised for the greater good of all, both in the present time and for the future generation.
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May this poem recall what is timely and rightly for us to do.
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✨Season of Grace · Knowing the Good✨
I.
This bitter morning speaks in cloud and chill—
The wind draws near, yet dread finds no safe ground,
For peace has built its dwelling deep within.
II.
Warm embers of the past still hold the heart;
To live aright is to be timely, now.
And children learn what goodness means, young still—
So age may ripen into quiet joy.
III.
But those who twist their hearts to crooked ways
Shall reap the ruin they have sown themselves.
Life bends to none who grasp too tight, too late—
And grief waits only for the tardy soul.
IV.
So let us be like him who slowed his wheels
At every light, that one lost soul might follow—
Not grand in deed, but steady, kind, and true.
For grace is not a mountain—it’s a doorway,
Opened in the chill, when timing asks for courage,
And goodness finds its voice in ordinary hands.
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May we all, in our own bitter mornings, become that doorway for someone else.
—✨
en yan hua fang 