Impulse - spontaneous acts of generosity

From a very young age it was obvious that I was a fairly impulsive person. I often found myself stuck up on the roof or chimney stack having followed my brother on the climb only to be left stranded when he descended.

When I was around seven, my mother came home in floods of tears. It evolved that she had lost her purse on a trip to the local shops. Apparently I ran to my bedroom and brought a ten shilling note to Mum, bringing a smile to her face and making my dad very proud.

This was the first of many spontaneous acts of generosity that have become a fundamental feature of my life. Of course it takes faith in human nature to act on impulse: It is easy to give help to others but there can be a cost if that generosity is not reciprocated. I have lent quite large sums of money to people who desperately needed help. Of course it is easy to be benevolent when you have a healthy bank balance but on occasion spontaneity involves a more physical approach.

I am sometimes reckless when it comes to members of the public in distress. I once heard a young man verbally abusing a girl who was with him in the corner bakery. I couldn't help myself and followed the pair down the street, speaking to her, reassuring her that she could come to my home if she was afraid. As I walked and the young man continued to shout at her, other people joined in and eventually the girl left the man and  decided to go to her mother's home. It was a seminal moment for me and cemented my commitment to intervene whenever the need arose.

I never drive past a woman or elderly person in a broken down vehicle. I have been in that situation myself and in the days before I was able to afford breakdown cover have felt isolated and sometimes afraid. One morning I was driving from my home to a local supermarket when I was slowed by a stream of traffic. It was cold and snowing. An older lady had broken down and she had been en route to her disabled child's school. I had a blanket in my boot and once I had made sure that the child was warm enough, I helped the woman to push her car to the side of the road. The woman put her trust in me: she allowed me to take the little girl to school. She asked me if  I was a Christian. Well yes I am and perhaps the parable of The Good Samaritan plays into my actions.

During my years of bringing up teenagers singlehandedly,  my home has often been safe-haven for friends of my kids who have been thrown out of their parental homes. I have rules. I provided a clean bed, good food and a listening ear but in return they had to keep sensible hours, attend school and be respectful. Often the youngster would remain for weeks and I hope that my intervention helped them to overcome difficulties.

Spontaneous acts of generosity can be far more simple. In cold weather, I buy a coffee and sandwich for a homeless person  rather than give them money that could be spent on booze or drugs.  I never walk past litter on the street: I pick it up and put it in the bin. This has its rewards. A few weeks ago, I  picked up what I thought was a discarded lottery scratch card. It was actually a folded ten pound note. I was out with my daughter and granddaughter earlier this week. We went for an ice cream at Notariani's. There was a discarded tin can on the pavement. I duly picked it up and deposited it in the nearest bin. I was delighted to see Riley, who is only three, pick up several pieces of paper and follow my lead.

I have acted on impulse on many more occasions and I truly hope that some of my readers will take this to heart and embark on their own spontaneous acts of generosity. The rewards may not be instantaneous but like dad always told me, "What goes around comes around and a good deed is returned ten fold."

The Impulse

It was too lonely for her there,
           And too wild,
           And since there were but two of them,
           And no child,
           
           And work was little in the house,
           She was free,
           And followed where he furrowed field,
           Or felled tree.
           
           She rested on a log and tossed
           The fresh chips,
           With a song only to herself
           On her lips.
           
           And once she went to break a bough
           Of black alder.
           She strayed so far she scarcely heard
           When he called her—
           
           And didn't answer—didn't speak—
           Or return.
           She stood, and then she ran and hid
           In the fern.
           
           He never found her, though he looked
           Everywhere,
           And he asked at her mother's house
           Was she there.
           
           Sudden and swift and light as that
           The ties gave,
           And he learned of finalities
           Besides the grave.

Robert Frost

Thank you for reading. Adele