Why we should help those in need as we pass through life - Christa Ackroyd

But it could have been. It was certainly a reflection of all she believed in, that kindness was free to give and usually gratefully received.

Dad had a copy of it on a shiny record long before we called them albums or vinyl. I so remember the care he took with them.

Not like us hooligans with our pocket money singles thrown all around the bedroom floor next to the red and cream Dancette, which by the way sell for an incredible price if you happen to still have one in good working order.

No for dad, placing a record on the turntable of his beloved stéréogramme was a ritual in itself. Carefully he would remove the said item from its cover.

Then gingerly, almost reverently remove the actual record from its pristine white sleeve holding it between his hands, careful never to touch the actual surface.

He would then blow on it, having blown on the needle before taking out a carefully folded piece of lint free cloth to ensure no dust particles remained.

While we would cram on a dozen singles at a time letting them drop clumsily, dad would carefully place the record on the turntable, before gently, by hand, applying the needle.

No crackles allowed in his sitting room. I watched him for hours. Recordings of his favourite artists were precious and not to be rushed nor ruined.

The song in question has been sung by many people. But it was Harry Secombe who made it famous often using it to finish his religious programmes which were a must listen in our house.

As was Yorkshire Television’s Stars on Sunday, which dad famously appeared on with the Bradford Police Choir in the early seventies.

I can still remember us sitting around the TV that evening with gran, grandma and grandad and Uncle Keith waiting for them to come on.

Then when they zoomed in on Dad it was such excitement.

“He’s there,” shouted my brother while dad just looked on from the comfort of his armchair not saying a word but with a smile on his face like a cheshire cat. Happy days. Happy memories. But I digress. As ever.

The song mum used to sing as she did her chores was If I Can Help Somebody As I Pass Along……and ended with the words “then my living shall not be in vain.”

I have lost count of the number of times I have listened to that song. I am listening to it now with tears in my eyes as I write, remembering mum often telling me to listen to the words and live by them.

And so this week I want to tell you a story. It is not about me. Heaven knows I am no saint. I can be judgmental and rash. The very opposite of my mum.

But over the years I have learned that another phrase mum not only spoke but lived by is also true: “There but for the grace of God go I”.

With age comes a realisation how lucky we have been – and most of us still are – whatever life lessons we have been forced to learn.

What would my life have been if I had not been adopted by the kindest most loving couple you could ever have imagined? Would I have spent my early years in care?

Would I have not been nurtured to believe anything is possible but only with hard work? And that there is no such word as can’t? My parents’ whole ethos on life.

It was Dad’s birthday last week and almost 30 years since he passed far too young. But his quiet wisdom remains and that of my mum as if they were still with me, which in spirit they are.

So the point of my ramblings is this. Not everyone is lucky in life. Some are dealt a cruel hand that leaves them broken and rootless, but they can and often do come through, with a helping hand.

One such person is a young man who lost his parents at far too young an age. He was but a young teenager.

This young man had many problems not least a stammer and low self esteem. He drifted into alcohol abuse and ended up living on the streets for many years.

Angry and without focus he quite simply believed he had nothing and no one. And so he didn’t want to be here.

This week that same young man got up at 6am from his home in Leeds, yes his home, travelled to the city centre and took the train to my house near Ilkley.

There in the pouring rain he worked tirelessly on a concrete jungle at the back of my house digging out the pathways, scraping away the weeds and creating a little oasis of calm. For eight hours non-stop he worked.

And when he had finished he took out his phone and sent pictures of what he had achieved to those who had believed in him and gave him the chance to turn his life around.

A year ago he would have been roaming the streets before bedding down for the night in some doorway. That had been his life for nine years.

Now he is working, helps with our weekly outreach at Homeless Street Angels and is supported by other organisations too who believe he deserves a second chance.

Here was a young man who could hardly speak, could not look you in the eye and now greets you with a hug. Because others showed him he is worth it.

I am not Mother Theresa. I am not even half as trusting as my mum was. I am like my dad, the former policeman, I see the pitfalls and the challenges along the way and know it will take years of trust for this young man to break the cycle, and rid himself of the demons that led him to believe no one cared.

But they do. And they should. And with support and kindness he will get through.

All he needed was a helping hand. This young man was written off. You may have even passed him in a doorway without a second glance. And there are many others like him.

This week another man, whose attitude reminds me of my father, paid tribute to the hard graft this young man is putting it to turn his life around.

John Gibbons is a volunteer for another charity Focus for Hope doing incredible work in the Calderdale area.

He was voted the volunteer of the year at the Yorkshire Choice Awards set up ten years ago to honour people like him and which I am proud to host.

He too has been instrumental in supporting this young man and many others like him. He was nervous of speaking when he came up on stage to receive his award but his words left the audience of 600 in awe.

"All we can do is give hope to people who have none,” he said. “And if we do some of them, like this young man, will prove they are worth it.”

‘If I can help somebody as I Pass Along. If I can cheer somebody with a word or song If I can show somebody he is travelling wrong Then my living shall not be in vain.’

I can still picture that record cover from Harry Secombe. Bless This House: Twenty Songs of Joy.

Little did I think that decades later it would still mean so much to me and to others. God bless you mum and dad. You taught me well.