Most of my life I have attended some form of worship, Catholic, High Anglican, Gospel Hall. But, do I believe in God? I cannot answer. Yet, in my darkest hours, someone has been there. This morning, the anthem on Morning Worship was 'When I needed a neighbour were your there?' And, wow, I listened.

I was classified manic depressive for years, and escaped. Now, living with my husband's Alzheimer's disease I am into two big 'D's', despair and defeat. Often, in tears, I gaze at the flowers and the birds frantic to feed fledglings and I do say, 'God give me strength'. Perhaps I have a stubborn nature, or pull myself up by my boot straps, and on I go. But, not alone.

Last night we had struggled to church, in pouring rain, then on to a restaurant, less than 100 metres. My husband has decided he cannot walk, and we shuffled along. Someone ran up behind us 'When you've finished, come and fetch me and I'll take you home in the car'. A neighbour.

I have an honorary grandson helping me sort out our new abode – a neighbour. All around neighbours are praying for us – which means they are thinking about us daily.

When our third son, aged four, was desperately ill and looked like losing a leg, our then neighbour abandoned his business for a day and followed the ambulance, picking up the bits of me and giving real succour.

As a teen-ager, parents separated, village turned against us, father abroad, a neighbour took a terrified teenager in and let me sleep in an armchair each night till my father returned.

A great current sadness is my oldest friend, suffering depression and thought to be suicidal. Her husband answers the phone, reads her letters, won't let her use their car. She is a devout Catholic. I cannot help her. Let her not be alone at this terrible time.

The Gardener

A Moodscope member.