Shanelle Franklin

Sometimes it feels like the world has lost its way. You only have to glance at the headlines or scroll through social media to be convinced that chaos is everywhere, that fear is justified, and that disaster is looming around every corner. It’s easy to get swept up in that narrative. But this morning reminded me that the truth is often quieter, hidden in small, ordinary moments that reveal just how much goodness is still around us, if we’re willing to look for it.

My day began in the still-dark hours of Adelaide, when I jumped into an Uber to head to the airport for the first flight out to Sydney. The man behind the wheel turned out to be one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met in transport. What could have been a forgettable ride became a gift. Our conversation stretched from the ordinary to the deeply human – at once inspiring, uplifting, really funny, and humbling. He spoke with such sincerity that I found myself not just listening, but absorbing. His car was spotless, clearly cared for with pride, and that simple act of care felt symbolic of the way he approached his work and his life. By the time we reached the terminal, I felt lighter, as though I’d already received a reminder of the goodness I so often forget to notice.

Inside the airport, the sense of calm continued. I expected the usual bustle, the rushing, the short tempers that sometimes flare when people are sleep-deprived and anxious to get on their way. But instead, I noticed people quietly giving way to one another. Strangers smiled at each other in passing. At one point, I saw someone hand back a wallet that had been left behind, and the relief on the owner’s face was unmistakeable. No fuss, no drama – just a simple act of honesty that, I’m sure, made a huge difference to that person’s day. It struck me how often those gestures go unseen, yet they stitch the fabric of our shared humanity together.

While waiting near my gate, I was treated to something even more unexpected. A young girl sat down at the piano that had been placed there and willingly played for everyone in earshot. The music drifted across the space, softening edges, slowing the pace, and inviting us all – myself included – to pause and refrain from putting my AirPods in as I usually do. For a few minutes, the usual noise of an airport was replaced with something beautiful, a kind of unplanned performance that belonged to everyone present.

When I lifted my eyes, I noticed another small scene. A mother was travelling with her two children, and the three of them sat side by side, each completely absorbed in their books. There was something so peaceful about it, no screens, no fussing, no impatience, just the quiet rhythm of shared concentration. It made me smile, because it felt like another reminder: that joy doesn’t always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes it’s tucked into the humblest of places.

And this was all before six in the morning. In just a few hours, I’ll be stepping onto the stage to MC the Sydney Dance and Cheer Championships. But as I reflect on the way my day began, I know that whatever unfolds, I’ll be carrying this sense of calm and gratitude with me.

Little pockets of gladness are everywhere. We only need to slow down long enough to notice them. And just before I boarded, the lady beside me and I shared a joke about something we both noticed – something so silly it had us cackling together over something so daft. 

But just when I thought my luck had run out, I walked onto the tarmac and a young lad flipped the bird straight at me. I thought, holy hell, what is that about? He caught a glimpse of my shocked face and immediately retracted the hasty gesture – only for the guy behind me to laugh and say, “Sorry about that, that’s my brother… it’s just how he says good morning to me.”