lonely people

The undertaker rang today.

And, yes - another funeral. He wondered if the man who'd died resided in the parish. He did. I was the right guy to contact.

'Another' funeral? In a way that's right. But in some ways, too, it's not just another funeral. It's really rather different from the normal ones there are - for all that they all vary too, enormously.

With this one, though, there isn't any next of kin. In fact, the undertaker said that he was pretty sure there only would be him and me attending at the service to be held.

I've only ever had that once before in nearly thirty years. Last time it was a burial. I remember the time and the place most vividly.

The man's name was Hugh Ferguson. I'd called on him a couple of times on account of the needs that he had. I sort of knew the man a bit, I guess.

But his only friend in the world - apart from me, I realised - was actually his dog. He had family all right, but they simply didn't want to know at all. And hadn't done for years.

Like I say, I remember the thing to this day. A sad and poignant, desperately solitary act of worship at the graveside where his body finally lay.

It is not good that the man should be alone. Not in life. And equally not in death. That's not how it's meant to be.

I remember the song the Beatles sang went running through my head as I stood at the ancient Kilsyth graveside. All the lonely people...

And I wondered how many there are like that. All alone in the world. It brings a lump to my throat to this day, just thinking on the thing.

Because I hadn't ever realised that I was the only real friend that he had.

So I've always been aware since then that time I spend with people may be hugely more significant than I would ever estimate.

And today's been a day a bit like that, I guess.

Lots of little nothing-really-special sort of meeting and conversing with a range of different folk.

Along at the local primary school again for a few short minutes' chatting with some teachers there in the course of their mid-morning break.

Up to see some staff at another neighbouring school. Again, along with coffee, just a few short minutes' worth of fairly routine chat.

A load of different e-mails to be written and sent off. None of them that obviously significant: but all of them another point of contact, another little gesture of the friendship we all crave.

Time with one of the leaders here addressing a number of issues there are in relation to Sunday worship.

And a meeting at night with leaders from all of the local churches here. Trying to see where the future lies. Some of these leaders, I sometimes think, feeling a little bit lonely and out on a limb on their own.

To the lonely 'Hughs' of the world, who knows what all these small, inconsequential points of contact maybe mean.

Perhaps they are, far more than we can realise, the gentle touch of God's befriending hand upon a person's life.

No time I spend with people can be ever insignificant.