It was time for her daily constitutional. Her route was predictable, familiar, and close to home. There were not too many options during the pandemic. Even though she was in her happy place, observing God’s bountiful and majestic creation, she didn’t like that her walks had become a non-contact sport. It made life even more isolating. People would generally pass by on the other side when they approached each other.

On the evening in question, she was plugged in, listening to a podcast, and clipping along at a pretty good pace. Yet even then, she was aware of her surroundings because she usually had her camera handy to photograph something that caught her eye.

Passing by the edge of a small, wooded area, she saw a young boy, perhaps 11 years old, bent over his bicycle, seemingly frustrated.

She noticed, yet the first thoughts that came to mind were “he might need help, but it’s COVID, he’ll figure it out.”

Not having walked another 30 steps, she heard that “still small voice” … “You are needed.”

Without hesitation, she spun on her heels and went back to the boy to ask if he was o.k. He seemed anxious, after all, even without COVID restrictions, most parents tell their children not to talk to strangers.

He looked up at her, and she noted a couple of large crocodile tears in his eyes as well as a bloodied elbow that was quickly swelling. They exchanged names, and he seemed somewhat nervous as he quietly said, “My dad is going to kill me; this is a brand-new bike.”

She assured him that his dad would only be concerned that he was not hurt, hoping that to be true.

Upon observation, the front brake pad had been jammed into the wheel when he fell. She did not have the strength or knowledge to release it, nor did he. A plan was hatched that if she lifted one side of the handlebars and he the other, they could wheel the bike home on the back wheel. Within five minutes, she realized that this was going to be brutal on her body.

As they approached a house with an open garage, she noticed a man who was filling a bike tire with an air compressor. She walked up to the garage and shouted to get his attention. Long story short, he released the jammed brake, and the young boy shyly said thank you and rode his bike home.

When I think about this incident, a run-of-the-mill story of taking notice, taking time, and doing the right thing, I can’t help but wonder how much a pandemic has changed us. Do we allow fear to keep us from helping our neighbour? Or, more importantly, is fear a social epidemic that was a common problem even before any lockdowns took place? I can’t help but wonder.

How many occasions does the Holy Spirit prompt us to do, or say, or stay or go, and we ignore His leading and pass by on the other side?

In the verses preceding the Parable of the Good Samaritan, it’s kind of ironic that a lawyer asked Jesus the question, “Who is my neighbour?” Really, how hard is that to figure out? Jesus had told him that to inherit eternal life he must love the Lord his God with all his heart, soul, strength and mind, and his neighbour as himself. Jesus went on to tell the parable and, in the end, asked the lawyer who the good neighbour was, to which the lawyer replied, “The one who showed him mercy.” Then Jesus said, “You, go and do likewise.”

It may be hard to see our neighbours behind closed doors and high fences, but it’s still possible. It takes intentionality to notice people. We can’t do that if we’re head down looking at our phone, or in our own headspace all the time.

The depth of Jesus’ mercy took Him to the cross, for you, for me, for the whosoever … for our neighbour! Jesus loved the least, the lost and the lonely. He showed mercy and compassion for children, for the physically and mentally ill, and for the outcast and the sinner. He noticed those whom others passed by.

Jesus said, “Truly, I say to you, as you did it to one of the least of these my brothers, you did it to Me.”

He also said, “‘Truly, I say to you, as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to Me.”

We should be grateful when the Holy Spirit prompts us to action. This means we are walking in step with our Master. Whether it’s a little boy, a shut-in, the homeless, a special needs person, an orphan, a widow, or a neighbour that rubs us the wrong way, we are called to mercy, to compassion, and to love.

We can’t love if we don’t look and listen and take notice of the least of these.

May God help us to be sensitive to the Holy Spirit’s promptings.

“Be merciful, even as your Father is merciful” (Luke 6:36).

Susan Page is the daughter of the King, His beloved child, wonderfully forgiven and blessed! Susan longs to age gracefully, becoming more like Jesus as she seeks the hidden treasures revealed to her through Scripture, literature, the arts, humankind, and nature.