Author: alistair50

Mac has died

Just over a week ago, our dog Mac died. His breathing became difficult the previous evening, and Alison and I sat with him through the night. As soon as possible the next morning we rushed him to our vet. Just after we arrived at the surgery, Mac’s heart stopped. A brilliant team brought him back, but he was too far gone. We stroked Mac and told him we loved him, and then he died. A few days later we laid Mac to rest in a place which was a favourite for him.

Part of the reason I am writing this is because Mac was mentioned in past blog posts, one very recently. (See https://occasionallywise.com/2025/11/06/a-life-that-is-centred/ and https://occasionallywise.com/2021/01/23/unconditional-love/.) But I’m honest enough to admit there may be another reason – sometimes grief just has to be shared.

I’ve had dogs before, but never one like Mac. In the post on Unconditional Love, I wrote this:

Mac is my dog. We have two dogs, but Mac is my follower. If I walk across the room, he comes too. When I sit down, he lies nearby. If I go to my home office, Mac joins me. (He’s here right now.) When I go to the bathroom, Mac would be there too, except I refuse him entry. But he’ll wait just outside for me.

I’ve no idea why he’s so devoted. He just is. My companion, day after day after day.

Mac’s devotion to me never wavered, and I became devoted to him. Hence how much I miss him. He was loyal, gentle, gritty, affectionate, and fun.

Perhaps only those who have loved a pet can understand the grief that follows their passing. It can’t be compared with losing a person, but it is real grief.

Some day – maybe – I’ll write more about things like that. At present my emotions are too raw. But perhaps it’ll always be too hard to reflect on losing my friend.

Alison has been my strength through these day, while all the time needing strength from me for her own sense of loss. Our family have supported us wonderfully, and friends have helped too. We still have Ciara, a beautiful blend of German Shepherd, retriever and collie. It’s hard to tell, but she seems lonely, which would be understandable.

We are deeply thankful that for eight years we were privileged to share life with Mac. There are many, many wonderful memories which we will treasure. The Bible says there is “a time to be born and a time to die” (Ecclesiastes 3: 2). What happens between these two ‘times’ matters greatly, and Mac gave us his best years. For that we will always be grateful.

It would have been easier if I’d been drunk

A young couple asked me, their minister, to conduct their wedding. “Delighted!” I replied. They added, “It will take place in Shetland,” apparently because the bride came from there. But that was no problem. Shetland is a long way north, but an easy flight from my base in Aberdeen.[1]

So, in mid summer I flew to the furthest place north of mainland Scotland where some of the 100 islands in the Shetland archipelago are closer to Norway than to major cities in the south. That far north, summer days are long and nights have very little darkness.[2] I had time to explore. Since then I have visited dozens of other countries, but Shetland is still the most awesomely beautiful place I have ever seen.[3]

The wedding service went well, after which the couple stood in warm sunshine for photographs and to greet their guests. Then came the reception, with plenty to eat and to drink. It was a great time.

I had a flight to catch back to Aberdeen that evening. But, just before I started on the 25 mile journey south from Lerwick to Sumburgh airport, I heard that a thick sea mist meant all flights were cancelled. Not to worry, because the airline had booked all passengers on the overnight sea ferry from Lerwick which would arrive in Aberdeen at breakfast time. ‘That will be fine,’ I thought.

It was very far from fine. The problem wasn’t the cabin, which I would be sharing with a Christian friend who’d also attended the wedding, and with two oil-rig workers going on leave. Nor was the problem lack of food on board, especially since I’d eaten well earlier and wasn’t hungry. And the oil workers weren’t the problem; they disappeared for hours to the bar.

The problem was everything to do with the ferry journey. Once out of the harbour and into the North Sea, the ship pitched up and down as strong waves lifted and dropped the vessel. My stomach began to heave in sync with those waves. Then the ferry got far enough south to escape the shelter of Shetland, and waves from the Atlantic competed with waves from the North Sea. The ship’s up/down movement was matched by an all around movement in my inner parts. I could not have been more miserable. Lying flat on my bunk was the worst so I went to the middle of the ferry where people were stretched out on seats and the floor. Apparently, so the gift shop assistant told me, they did that because the central area pitched less than the bow or stern. Maybe it did ‘less’ but still a lot. “Never mind,” the assistant tried to comfort me, “trawlermen also get sick on the ferry because it doesn’t pitch enough.” I was not comforted.

Back in my cabin, and foolishly lying down again, my stomach churned. Suddenly I knew I was about to bring up my delightful wedding reception meal. I rushed to the small ensuite bathroom, but the door was locked. My Christian friend was emptying everything he’d eaten that day. Now desperate, I ran into the corridor where there were toilets for passengers without ensuite facilities. I saw the word ‘toilet’, went straight in, and was sick on an almighty scale into a sink. Only after I got back to my cabin did I realise I hadn’t checked whether I’d entered the toilet for men or the toilet for women.

The rest of that night I lay sleepless on my bunk except when I was being sick. Around 1.30 in the morning, the two oil workers returned from the bar. Both were clearly very drunk. So drunk, they collapsed on their bunks, immediately fell asleep and stayed asleep until the ship docked in Aberdeen harbour. The oil men that morning were bright and cheery. I was not. Alison met me from the ferry, and said she’d never seen me look so ill. All I could reply was, “It would have been easier if I’d been drunk”.

I didn’t actually wish I’d been drunk, but I couldn’t escape the thought that my non-drinking friend and I had no reward for our righteousness. The oil men had a peaceful night. Our night was a horror story. It didn’t seem fair.

The hard truth is that doing what’s right doesn’t guarantee an easier life.

The writer of Psalm 73 in the Bible didn’t hesitate to complain to God that the wicked “have no struggles; their bodies are healthy and strong.They are free from common human burdens; they are not plagued by human ills” (vs. 4-5). While he has kept his heart pure, the wicked have amassed great wealth (vs. 12-13). Later in his psalm, he does recognise that the final destiny of the wicked will be ruinous, but his earlier words are comfortingly honest, that those who live to please themselves may have an easy life, with none of the sacrifices faced by those who try to do what’s right.

So, let’s recognise a few realities.

First, this world often seems unfair. People cheat – such as some students at school or university with assignments or exams – and too many are not found out. Applicants for top jobs submit their résumé or CV (curriculum vitae) claiming qualifications they have never earned. Mistakes at work are covered up. Tax claims are falsified or earnings hidden. The owner of a garage told me I would be entitled to a big discount on my car repairs if I paid with cash rather than cheque. Naïvely I asked how that could be. “It’s simple” the garage owner said. “If you pay with cash we can avoid the value added tax.” I quickly replied that I couldn’t do that since I was a church minister. “Yes, I know you’re a minister,” he said. “That’s why I thought you might appreciate a discount.” I smiled, but he was proposing fraud. I paid by cheque.

There is a cost – sometimes literally – from being honest, truthful and virtuous. It has always been like that, and it’s never likely to change.

Second, short-term advantage can, however, lead to long-term disaster. I recall being asked to check if someone had actually held the university posts he claimed on a job application. I did find out – he had never held any of those posts. Not only was that applicant not appointed to the position he now sought, news of his deceit inevitably spread far and wide. His dishonesty meant he’d never be employed at a senior level.

Cheating can reach the level of bizarre. One of the most flagrant and now notorious cases concerns George Santos who was elected to the US House of Representatives from a New York congressional district in 2023. News reporters then researched Santos’ background. What they found differed significantly from his own story. He had lied about his education, past employment, business activities, earnings and wealth, and not disclosed his criminal history, nor that he was facing lawsuits. Just before the end of 2023 the House of Representatives voted 311 to 114 to expel Santos. In August the next year, he pleaded guilty to identity theft and wire fraud, and was sentenced to 87 months in prison. On the day of his sentence, John J. Durham, United States Attorney for the Eastern District of New York, said this: “Today, George Santos was finally held accountable for the mountain of lies, theft, and fraud he perpetrated. For the defendant, it was judgment day, and for his many victims including campaign donors, political parties, government agencies, elected bodies, his own family members, and his constituents, it is justice.”[4] Santos was jailed but a few months later President Donald Trump commuted his sentence and he was released. He had freedom from prison, but no freedom from a ruined reputation.

Another reputation – that of David, King over Israel and Judah – was ruined around 1000 years BC. While walking on the roof of his palace late one evening, David saw a beautiful woman called Bathsheba bathing in her nearby home. Her husband, Uriah, had been gone for some time, fighting in David’s army. Filled with desire, David sent for Bathsheba and they had sex. Later she discovered that she was pregnant and let David know. The King’s secret affair would soon not be a secret. Trying to cover his tracks, David had Uriah brought back from the front line, supposedly to report on the progress of the fighting but actually so he would go home and have sex with his wife. But Uriah’s sense of honour would not let him make love to his wife while his fellow soldiers were camped on a battle field. David was now desperate. He gave Uriah a sealed letter to take back to the army commander. That letter was Uriah’s death sentence, because it ordered the commander to put Uriah where the upcoming battle would be fiercest, and then withdraw support from him so Uriah was stranded and killed. It happened: Uriah was abandoned during the battle and died. David, an adulterer and now a murderer, breathed a sigh of relief. But not for long. Through a prophet, David’s sin became known, resulting in great trouble during the rest of his reign. His sin was also recorded in the Jewish scriptures and then in the whole Bible, where we can read about it today (in 2 Samuel, ch.s 11-12). David indulged his lust for Bathsheba, but one night of pleasure led to one of the world’s worst stories of illicit sex and murder being read everywhere for some three millennia.

Doing something wrong for short-term gain rarely ends well.

Third, honouring your beliefs and principles is always right. In a previous blog post I described a personal experience.


The UK runs a national census in every year that ends in a ‘1’. The census is done now by answering questions online but in earlier years everyone filled out census forms. In one of those past ‘1’ years, I was a student looking for summer employment and got hired to help deal with the millions of census forms. My job was in a very large warehouse, almost entirely filled with shelving holding boxes of forms. A small team of ‘experts’ sat at one end coding each answer for entry into the rudimentary computer system used back then. I was a much more lowly file-picker. All I did every day was take an order for a batch of files, find their boxes among the shelves, and transport them by push-trolley to the coders. When the coders were finished with them, I put them back on the shelves. It was brain-numbingly boring work. But they paid me to do it, so I was grateful to have the job.

A fellow file-picker told me one day that when he was given an order to bring a batch of files, he was told not to use a trolley, just bring them one box at a time and walk slowly. He thought it hilarious that he was ordered to take as long as possible to do his job. I didn’t think it funny, just strange, perhaps too strange to be true. Until one of the bosses gave me virtually the same instruction: to fetch files but not to use a trolley and to take my time.

Eventually the explanation dawned on me. It wasn’t just the file-pickers who were temps; so were the coders and so were many of the bosses. Almost everyone working in that warehouse had a financial interest in their job lasting as long as possible, hence a secret ‘go-slow’ policy.

That first time I carried the files one by one to the coders and back to the shelves. And I did it the next day. But then I couldn’t do it any more. This was wrong, just wrong. Deliberately slow work cheated the top officers who needed census results processed promptly, cheated the tax payers who were paying my wages, and, for me as a Christian, I felt I was cheating God by not giving my best. I didn’t sleep well that night; I knew what I had to do next morning. I got my first order for files, went to the shelves, offloaded the boxes on to a trolley, and wheeled it to the coders. Later I did the same in reverse to put them back on the shelves. I kept doing that through the day. No-one said anything.

But they did the day after. I got an order for files, and found my way to their location in the centre of the ‘stacks’. Two file-picker colleagues were waiting there for me. One pinned me against the shelving, while both of them made their views very clear. ‘You do what you want to do, but you’d better not show us up by how you do it.’ I can’t reproduce the hostile tone they used, and I haven’t included the words beginning with ‘f’ and ‘b’ that littered their warning. With a last shove they let me go, and disappeared. It was a moment of decision. But the only decision I could make was to be true to myself. I had to live what I believed, and that was to do the job right. Which I did, day after day. And, as with most bullies, the file-pickers didn’t go through with their threats.

Living with a clear conscience, living as you believe you should – it’s the only way to feel good about yourself, to honour others and God, and to get a good night’s sleep.  [From https://occasionallywise.com/2021/03/27/be-true-to-yourself/]

That was a trial-of-principles moment for me. It was hard at the time but it strengthened my determination to always be true to what I believe is right.

But no trial of mine can be compared to the choice which faced Polycarp.[5]

Polycarp was Bishop of the church in Smyrna, a city in Asia Minor (modern Izmir in Turkey), around 160 AD, a time when Christians were distrusted and hated in the Roman Empire. They would not submit to the rule of the emperor as a divine figure, nor would they sacrifice to the Roman gods, so Christians were considered guilty of disloyalty and treason. Many died for their faith.

Bishop Polycarp was an old man, old enough to have known and followed the Apostle John. His age did not save him from persecution. He was told to burn incense to the Roman emperor or he would die. He refused and he was arrested. Polycarp knew what lay ahead for him, but said: “86 years have I have served him, and he has done me no wrong. How can I blaspheme my King and my Saviour?”[6]

Dragged into an arena, the Proconsul warned Polycarp he would be torn by wild animals if he would not recant his faith. Polycarp was unmoved. Then, the Proconsul said, you will be burned at the stake. Wood and bundles of sticks were heaped up. Soldiers stood ready to nail Polycarp to the stake so he could not flee when the fire was lit. Polycarp stopped them: “Leave me as I am, for he that gives me strength to endure the fire, will enable me not to struggle, without the help of your nails.” The fire was lit and blazed furiously. Polycarp stood still, and somehow – by a miracle observers said – the flames burned around Polycarp but did him no harm. But he could not be allowed to live, so an executioner was ordered to stab Polycarp to death, which he did, and his dead body was later burned by the Roman authorities.

Not many have been as true to their beliefs as Polycarp was. His remarkable example is of someone determined to be firm in his faith, no matter how dreadful the consequences.

In conclusion, then, it’s easy to opt for the easy life, doing what everyone else does. You don’t upset anyone. You don’t get into trouble. But can you live with yourself doing that? Suppressing the truth deep in your soul? Abandoning your principles just to be safe, just to be comfortable? It’s not right, and the benefits don’t last.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, a German pastor, could not accept Nazi ideology, could not go along with the crowd as many others did. Alexei Navalny could not keep quiet about the way his beloved Russia was being governed. Both dared to oppose their nation’s rulers, knowing that might mean paying the ultimate price. Bonhoeffer was hanged only a few months before World War II ended. Navalny died in a remote Arctic prison colony in February 2024. Neither saw their dreams fulfilled, but their example, their refusal to abandon their beliefs, has inspired thousands, probably millions.

Jesus said: “… wide is the gate and broad is the road that leads to destruction, and many enter through it” (Matthew 7:13). Don’t be part of the crowd on that road.

[1] There are more than 790 islands off the mainland of Scotland, but only 93 of these are inhabited. The islands can be grouped into four main clusters: the Inner Hebrides and the Outer Hebrides to the north west, the Orkney Islands and the Shetland Islands to the north.

[2] In midsummer, after 19 hours of daylight, Shetland experiences the ‘simmer dim’ – described this way: “Simmer dim refers to the time around midsummer, when after the sun has set, light lingers. It is neither daylight or darkness, but an uncanny in-between time, an extended twilight blurring the boundaries between day and night.” https://www.shetland.org/blog/midsummer-in-shetland

[3] For more information about Shetland, I recommend this website: https://www.shetland.org/about

[4] U.S. Attorney’s Office, Eastern District of New York: https://www.justice.gov/usao-edny/pr/ex-congressman-george-santos-sentenced-87-months-prison-wire-fraud-and-aggravated

[5] The details which follow about the death of Polycarp were in a letter called The Martyrdom of Polycarp sent by eye-witnesses of the martyrdom to churches in the surrounding area.

[6] It is hard to be sure if Polycarp meant he was 86 years old, or that 86 years had passed since his conversion to follow Christ.

A life that is centred

‘Edith was a little country bounded on the north, south, east, and west by Edith’.[1] That short sentence perfectly describes people who are egocentric, self-focused, or self-obsessed. I’ve known some like that: in love with themselves, and all too sure their wants are more important than anyone else’s needs.

Of course self-focused people have their lives centred, just very badly centred. Everything is about them. Others exist, but they’re useful only to serve number one’s desires. The self-focused are like cats, because, as the old saying goes, ‘You don’t own a cat – it owns you, and your only role is to serve the cat.’ I don’t mind that cats think like that; I’m deeply troubled when people do.

So, what is an alternative way of thinking about a life that is centred other than on self?

My answers will relate to questions like these: Who am I? Why am I here? What is my value? How should I live? How should I treat others? Those deep questions have been discussed and debated by very wise people for more years than history has recorded. I can’t match history’s greatest sages but here are my short answers to those questions.

Who am I?

I am created and loved by God; brought to birth in this world; given health and strength; privileged with education, relationship and work opportunities; helped to survive dark times; forgiven for my foolishness; surrounded by people who love and support me; blessed with a positive spirit; and grateful that I can still do good for myself and others.

That is my personal summary. I will have overstated some things, and likely left out important other things. But it’s how I see myself. Because I am a unique individual, someone else is bound to summarise their life differently.

What this happy and secure life has given me is a solid foundation. How I think of everything around me is infused with promise. The world is full of possibilities. People have potential. Change brings opportunities. The future can be better than the past. Misfortunes can be turned to advantage.

Most of the time, that positive view of my life means I am not focused inwardly but outwardly. I have been blessed, not just for my sake but so I can use my energy, gifts and opportunities to help this world become more like the world it was meant to be. I have no excuses for failing.

Why am I here?

I hear interviewers ask people ‘What do you most want in life?’ and a typical answer is ‘I just want to be happy’. That’s what ‘Edith’ would say, because personal happiness is a self-serving goal, as if everything and everyone should bring the interviewee pleasure and prosperity.

I’ve never believed that I exist to serve myself. At least, I hope not. Yes, I’ve had ambitions. I left home aged 16 to train as a journalist in Edinburgh, convinced that I would become one of the nation’s most brilliant reporters and broadcasters. Modesty was not my highest virtue. But the dream was never about my fame. The passion was to report news, share truth, give perspective, and perhaps to influence government and society. A few years later my career choice changed, and life went in a wholly different direction because I felt God wanted me in Christian ministry. I studied for many years, and then my roles became church ministry to hundreds of people, then heading up a mission agency bringing hope and help to tens of thousands, then being President of a seminary preparing gifted people to serve in caring and pastoral work right across America. Whatever the role, I consistently focused on serving others, not myself. That was my aim and I hope it still is.

So, why am I here? Not for myself, nor for any of the ordinary things people covet for themselves like fame, money, prestige, comfort or pleasure. If I’d continued in journalism – where I was doing well – I could have had these things. But they are superficial and fleeting possessions. You can’t take them with you beyond the grave. I chose to spend my time, energy and gifts on others.

What is my value?

If you enter ‘How to assess someone’s value?’ into a search engine, most of the answers you get will relate to what a person does – the career they’re following, the positions in business or politics they hold, the changes they are bringing to their community, how they visit the sick or campaign for human rights. Or any other of many activities.

But what we do should not be the primary answer about our value. Utility – usefulness – is an inadequate way of measuring any kind of value. The most expensive painting in the world is considered to be Salvator Mundi by Leonardo da Vinci – it sold for US $450.3 million in 2017. It is truly magnificent but also a completely inanimate object. Do people admire it? Yes. But ask what the painting does? The answer is nothing, absolutely nothing. Yet it’s considered to be of high value.

My point is that value should not be assessed only in terms of usefulness or productivity. In particular, a person’s worth should never be calculated that way. We have value independent of our work, our social standing, educational qualifications, achievements, race or gender. That truth lies behind Article 1 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights: “All human beings are born free and equal in dignity and rights”.[2] I have value. You have value. Simply because of who you are, you have value.

From my Christian perspective, that value is ultimately because I am made by God. These verses in the Bible from Psalm 139 are very special:

For you created my inmost being;
    you knit me together in my mother’s womb.
14 I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
    I know that full well.
15 My frame was not hidden from you
    when I was made in the secret place,
    when I was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw my unformed body;
    all the days ordained for me were written in your book
    before one of them came to be. (vs.13-16)

What remarkable imagery: God knitting us in our mother’s wombs and weaving us together in the depths of the earth. And awesome to be described as ‘fearfully and wonderfully made’. How could I ever imagine I lacked value?

How should I live?

This is a tricky question, but only if we try to answer it with one moral theory supposedly applicable to everyone, no matter their background, culture, beliefs and context. Instead, it’s reasonable to suppose most people know instinctively what’s right and what’s wrong.

From ancient to modern times there have been many lists of right actions. Here are two, one from a philosopher and the other from an apostle.

In 1930 philosopher David Ross wrote down seven prima facie duties – things which he believed were self-evidently right to do. Here’s his list with explanations of what he meant:

  1. Fidelity – keeping a promise; not misrepresenting history.
  2. Reparation – putting right what you did wrong in your past.
  3. Gratitude – appreciating and expressing thanks for what others have done for you.
  4. Justice – making sure people get what they deserve.
  5. Beneficence – Using our skills or resources to give others a better life.
  6. Self-improvement – improving our character, learning, or skills to fulfil our potential.
  7. Non-maleficence – not injuring others, such as by violent acts, or verbal assaults like unfairly criticising or shaming. [3]

Ross’s list made good sense, but he was criticised because he believed all these were knowable simply by intuition. His critics pointed out that intuitions vary depending on past experience, beliefs, outlook, and values. And that’s true. But what’s also true is that all moral judgments – however they arise – vary based on background and experience.

I like Ross’s list, and I admire his courage in publishing it. But I’d probably add a few other virtues such as humility, peace-making and courage.

In a letter which now appears in the New Testament, the Apostle Paul wrote a list of the fruits of the Spirit. These nine ‘fruits‘ are also a wonderful guide to the kind of people we should be:

22…the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, 23 gentleness, and self-control.  (Galatians, 5: 22-23)

Live so these ‘fruits of the Spirit’ control your thoughts and actions, and you will not only bless others but know inner peace too.

As I said, there are other lists of virtues or commandments. The fact is that there’s no great mystery about knowing what’s right. There is, I admit, a great difficulty in consistently doing what’s right.

How should I treat others?

My father had a very long career with the Post Office, but only a very short time serving customers at Post Office counters. He hated that job intensely. The work was not difficult, but the customers were. Many of those who stood before Dad imagined one or both of two things: 1) that somehow they’d be cheated during their transaction; 2) that by being angry and aggressive they’d get prompt and better service. Dad experienced insult, abuse and distrust every day, so he would trudge home after work feeling miserable. Before long, though, he moved upwards in Post Office management, which meant relocating to backroom offices. Now he was at peace because no longer was he made miserable by miserable customers.

Wuthering Heights is the only novel by the English author Emily Brontë.[4] For me it was a hard read. I kept waiting for happy stories, but happiness is not common in Wuthering Heights. Much of the misery surrounds the main character, Heathcliff. Here is how Brontë describes Heathcliff:

“… his naturally reserved disposition was exaggerated into an almost idiotic excess of unsociable moroseness; and he took a grim pleasure, apparently, in exciting the aversion rather than the esteem of his few acquaintances.”

That does not describe a person anyone would want to know. Brontë said Heathcliff’s character had an excess of ‘moroseness’. My dictionary defines moroseness as “the state or quality of being ill-tempered, gloomy, and unwilling to speak or smile. It describes a sullen, moody, and resentful disposition.”

Heathcliff bathed in misery, bloody-mindedness, and contentiousness, freely spreading his gloom to all around, contributing almost nothing to the happiness of others.

The lives of people like that are centred very badly. Their disposition is firmly ill-natured and ill-humoured, primed by resentment, distrust, and hostility. They assume their luck is always bad, that they are constantly treated unfairly, and that their future will be one of disappointment. Bitterness and anger have moved their thinking, expectation, and experience into a dark and hostile place, and they now interpret every word spoken and every action taken as opposition or antagonism towards them. What a sad way to live.

Their lives do not have to be like that.

The first step to wholeness and happiness begins with recognising your view of the world is distorted. You see everyone and everything as hostile, unreasonable, and difficult. The second step is believing, or at least hoping, it may not always be like that. The third step is identifying things and people who are lovely, kind and good. Start with recognising the beauty of a flower, a sunset, or the adoration of a dog. Or appreciating that someone accepts you unconditionally, helping you without seeking anything in return, Or acknowledging that your life has had advantages, good events, and what lies ahead could be wonderful. The fourth step is determining to live positively, believing that good can happen, and finding happiness and contentment whatever your circumstances. Take all four steps, and your life will have been re-centred in a way that brings joy to self and others.

I’ll finish by describing a recent event. I heard the sound of running. Someone was coming up fast from behind. Before I could turn, a figure raced past me and careered on down the side of the hill. Thankfully I recognised my friend Mac, almost off his feet as he raced down the steep slope. He didn’t stop, maybe couldn’t stop, but ran and ran until the slope eased and he slowed and finally came to a halt. Then, out of breath, Mac looked from side to side, as if wondering ‘What am I doing down here?’ or ‘Where am I now?’ A bit late to be asking those questions, I thought to myself.

But Mac – my dog – isn’t brilliant at planning.[5] I often wonder what Mac is thinking, or even if he’s thinking at all. Perhaps his only ambition that day had been to run down the hill. Where would that take him? What would he do next? Not questions Mac had considered. I would advise all of us to know our answers to those questions, along with the five I’ve posed here: Who am I? Why am I here? What is my value? How should I live? How should I treat others? Find the answers, live in the light of them, and your life will be well centred.

[1] The words are quoted by H.E. Fosdick, 1943, On Being a Real Person. The description of Edith comes from novelist Martha Ostenso, “Gardenias in Her Hair,” Pictorial Review 38 (September 1937): 84. Fosdick was a famous American pastor and writer. He died in 1969, aged 91.

[2] The full Declaration can be read here: https://www.un.org/en/udhrbook/pdf/udhr_booklet_en_web.pdf

[3] These prima facie duties are to be found on pages 21-22 in Ross, W. David. 1930. ‘The Right and the Good’. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

[4] Wuthering Heights was initially published in 1847. To hide female authorship it appeared under Brontë’s pen name “Ellis Bell”.

[5] I wrote about Mac before when describing ‘unconditional love’: https://occasionallywise.com/2021/01/23/unconditional-love/

My girlfriend asked for flowers; I didn’t marry her

Alice was lovely. Attractive. A vivacious personality. Very able at performing or speaking before audiences. Great voice for radio broadcasting. Always curious, always seeking the truth. Clever. Christian faith. And – of high importance – enthusiastic about me.

But I didn’t marry Alice. Our romance lasted for one year, but I suspect we both knew after eight or nine months that it wasn’t going to be forever.

Alice and I met when we found ourselves on the same ‘summer mission’ team, organising games and activities for youngsters, hoping that through friendship and fun we’d communicate Christian faith. Alice wasn’t just good at almost everything the team did, she was very good. She could sing, perform drama, give an address, play sport, counsel troubled youngsters. It was easy to be attracted to her.

I had no idea she was attracted to me. Until one day when Alice got upset during a team gathering, and asked for people to leave so she could resolve something one way or the other. I headed for the door with everyone else, only to be told by a team member: “Don’t be an idiot. Sit down. You’re the one Alice needs to talk to”. Turned out she needed to know if I had feelings for her. Oh! How oblivious had I been? But I must have answered her question by saying something positive, and so we became a couple.

We were both in the early years of university study. We’d sit together in the library poring over our books or writing our assignments. We’d go for walks along Edinburgh’s broad streets, perhaps stopping for coffee in a café. Occasionally Alice would accompany me on a Sunday morning if I was preaching in a nearby church, and I’d find a part for her to play in the service. She was brilliant at reading or doing a solo drama. Congregations loved her.

For a while I thought I loved her too. Alice was interesting, fun, bright, spontaneous, creative, with bags of ambition. We had so many good times it was hard not to think that she and I could share life together.

Just once – after about six months – we talked about a long-term future. And Alice said, “I’m more in love with the idea of being engaged than being engaged to you”. Wow. Ten out of ten for honesty, Alice, but not in the least encouraging.

That moment should have been a huge red flag about the prospects for our relationship. But we’d got used to being together, studying together, going together to parties or to events where either of us was taking part. So the relationship continued.

Two things finally made me realise Alice and I would not have a shared future.

I’d borrowed a car so Alice and I could spend the day together away from the city. It was a good day. But, as I drove back to Edinburgh where both of us lived, I became aware that I was having to think up subjects for us to talk about. No longer were we having easy conversations, nor were we comfortable with silence. It seemed we were no longer happy just to be together.

Then we came near to the date of Alice’s birthday. With an apology, I told her that I needed to be away at that time. Alice wasn’t too upset because, after all, “you can still buy flowers and have them sent to me”. That thought had never entered my head. Not only did I not have money to send Alice flowers, I had never imagined that she’d expect flowers. I’d assumed I would give her a modest gift, but flowers? As well? Really? Yes, really.

At that moment, I realised we were people with many different expectations. We enjoyed being a couple but our lives weren’t meshing. We were not a great fit. The real issue wasn’t about flowers or no flowers. But that difference of expectations and uncomfortable conversations revealed that we were not close in the areas of life where the deepest intimacy and bonding really, really matter.

Alice and I were still a couple for a few more weeks, and then, exactly one year from the day we began our relationship, we talked honestly about how we felt, and the romance ended there and then.

No two relationships are the same because people are different. They differ in their values, expectations, desires, ambitions. We are all unique, so what fulfils, pleases, satisfies or makes me happy may be wholly unlike what you want.

However, what follows are seven snippets of advice which I believe are important for any strong relationship. I have not included ‘being in love’ as one of them. That’s for several reasons: 1) Not all cultures prioritise love the way we do in the westernised world; 2) What ‘being in love’ means is not as simple as novels and films suggest; 3) For me, true love reveals itself in what someone does, and much of what I’ve written below is exactly about that.

Attraction matters, but attraction isn’t always what we think it is. Alice was attractive, and amazingly she was attracted to me too. But good looks were never the highest priority for me. I’d felt drawn to other girls who were simply lovely to know, people with warm hearts, kind actions, bright ideas, an inner energy, and especially those who cared far more about others than themselves. Someone with deep inner qualities was always ‘attractive’ to me.

It takes time to recognise values but that’s never wasted time. For me a sizeable outlay on flowers didn’t make sense. Nor would I shop in high-end stores, or eat in expensive restaurants. I’d also have struggled to be close to someone who didn’t value reading, or friendships, or family. I was always interested too in a person’s goals or deepest desires. Were those about a great career? Or earning lots of money? Or going on luxury holidays each year? Did they value their neighbours and friends? Would they want children who enjoyed books, played sport or took other exercise, and appreciated nature? Not for a moment do I imagine anyone should set out on a first date armed with a check-list about the other person’s life goals. What a romance killer that would be. But as a couple grow closer, they will discover each other’s values. Are those values compatible? Or are they in a relationship where differences are suppressed? Misaligned values don’t just go away.

Long term relationships are built on a foundation of commitment Of course there should be attraction. And of course there should be strong feelings. I remember Bill, at one time my Australian landlord, telling me how he’d drive every morning past his fiancé’s  house just to see her smile and wave. But excitement and enthusiasm were not enough. They married, but 15 years later they were divorced. We’re persuaded by Hollywood films and romantic novels that John and Janet fall in love at first sight, and live happily ever after. What those stories miss out is the hard graft of building a strong bond, one that doesn’t fail when hard times come (which they always do). If all each of us has is a strong attraction then, when the years pass and we turn into old ‘wrinklies’, who will still love us?

A Don Francisco song describes feelings that have gone like a river run dry, and emotions have vanished that once held a thrill, but: ‘Love is not a feeling; It’s an act of your will’. That song is right. Real love is more than attraction and more than feelings, it’s a decision – a decision that no matter what we will be committed to each other.

Respect for each other In my late teens I bought a readable and helpful book called ‘I Married You’ by Walter Trobisch. It meant a lot to me at that stage of life. The section I remember to this day was called ‘Six tests of love’. One of those tests Trobisch called The respect test. Here’s what he wrote:

‘There is no real love without respect, without being able to look up to the other one.

‘A girl may admire a boy when she watches him play soccer and score all the goals. But if she asks herself the question: “Do I want this boy to be the father of my children?” very often the answer will be in the negative.

‘A boy may admire a girl when he sees her dancing. But if he asks himself the question: “Do I want this girl to be the mother of my children?” she may look very different to him.

‘Our third test question is: Do we really have enough respect for each other? Am I proud of my partner?’[1]

Beth and Dave came to me for pre-marriage counselling. They seemed ideally suited. At an appropriate moment I asked them: “Do you truly respect each other?” Dave nodded, and said “Of course!” Beth did not nod. There was an awkward silence before she turned to Dave and said “I don’t respect you. I wish I did, but I don’t”. Dave was shocked. Neither wanted to talk more about what lay behind Beth’s answer, but I suspect each of them knew. Something wasn’t right in Dave’s life, and he wasn’t doing anything about it. Did they get married? Yes, they did. And soon they moved away and I lost touch. I still wonder if they resolved the respect issue, because, if they didn’t, their marriage will have been a struggle.

A couple can’t be rivals Gerry was a pastor but his wife Kate wished she was. At that time (not now) their denomination did not allow women to be pastors, but Kate had felt called and gifted for the role. So, unable to live her dream, she chose her next best thing by marrying Gerry who was in training for ministry. Gerry also had a sense of call but his gifting was nothing like Kate’s. He finished his training, and a church invited him to be their pastor. At the event to install him to the role, Gerry spoke hesitantly for five minutes, and then Kate spoke confidently for twenty minutes. Gerry and Kate truly cared for each other – their marriage was no sham – but there was an inner tension about who could or should do the work to which both felt called. Tension between a couple is never a good thing.

A strong relationship needs ‘electricity’ Paul – a pastor in his mid-30s – felt that by now he should be married. Most of Paul’s congregation were young adults, many not married, so Paul knew he had a great prospect pool. But he had no idea about how to find his ideal wife, so he proceeded in what he thought was a logical way. He wrote out a list of the qualities he wanted in a wife – entries like his future wife should be attractive, intelligent, loving, homely, and with a desire for children. With his list done, Paul identified every young woman in his church who met his criteria. He narrowed down the ‘possibles’ until there was just one candidate – Helen. He invited Helen to have coffee, and followed up by taking her to dinner. After two months of dating Paul proposed marriage, and Helen accepted. Most of the church members were thrilled. Paul and Helen seemed ideal for each other. But less than three months later Paul broke off the engagement. Gently, I asked Paul what went wrong. He described his ‘qualities list’, how he’d chosen Helen and eventually proposed to her. But, Paul said, soon after that they realised there was a problem. “There simply wasn’t real electricity between us. We were attracted to each other, but there was no spark, no excitement, no deep desire in either of us. We simply weren’t in love, certainly not a love that would last a lifetime.”

Paul’s wants-list method of wife-seeking was inadequate and inappropriate. A woman is much more than her individual parts, beliefs, desires and qualities. That was no way to find a soul-mate. Thankfully Paul and Helen realised that in time.

A strong relationship needs more than ‘electricity’ In an earlier blog post, I wrote about commitment. Here’s part of what I said:

Years ago, I spent two weeks with a church in Santa Monica, near Los Angeles, and got to know the young adults there. One evening, after all the pizza had been eaten, we started talking about relationships and I was asked, ‘Alistair, what does “commitment” mean? We don’t understand it.’

I knew that none of the group were currently married (some had been), and many of them had lived through the divorce of their parents. Perhaps their backgrounds explained the question.

They were all dedicated movie watchers (we weren’t far from Hollywood), and many films included the romantic line ‘I have feelings for you…’ So I began with that concept of love, and explained that of course love involves feelings, but that can’t be all. Lasting love isn’t just a feeling but a decision. It’s the deep and serious decision to love someone through good times and bad times no matter what.

In other words, I told them, to love someone is a choice, one of the toughest but most wonderful choices you can ever make. That’s what commitment means.

From: How a motorcycle crash changed my life (but not in the way you think) https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/19/

Of course attraction matters. But if attraction is all there is, then what happens to a relationship if life becomes difficult and dark?

Fay was a saint because she lived out promises to love ‘for better or for worse’ through many hard years. She’d married John just before World War II began, and, before long, John was conscripted into the army. For a long time he was stationed at army bases in the UK, and they saw each other when he had weekend leave passes. But those passes stopped in 1944. The allied forces were preparing for D-Day – the invasion of mainland Europe against the Nazi occupying powers. John landed on the Normandy beaches with his fellow-soldiers. They fought their way inland, men falling to machine gun fire on either side of John. It was day three when a mortar shell landed near to him, and John was blasted 30 feet through the air. He was badly wounded in his head, arm, chest and legs. Medics rushed him to a field hospital for emergency care and soon after he was evacuated back to a hospital in the UK. When Fay saw him she was shocked: his face had deep scars, one arm was nearly useless, his body needed several operations, and a leg was so badly broken he’d never walk again without aid. Fay never wavered. Though John was hospitalised far from home, she visited constantly. Eventually he was discharged, though several more operations were needed later. Fay cared constantly for her husband. She helped him wash himself. She supported him as he learned to walk with a crutch. Sometimes he’d fall and Fay helped him get up. John couldn’t get any ordinary job, but Fay eked out the small pay she got for a few hours of housekeeping, plus a ‘war wounded’ pension awarded to John. Somehow Fay made ends meet. Day after weary day she looked after John as faithfully as any wife could. Not only did she help make his body as strong as it could be, she built up his esteem so he knew he was still important, and gave him a good life. She did all of that for 35 years. And then John died. Some thought Fay would feel relieved her burden of care was over. Fay never had that thought even once; she wished only that she’d had 35 more years to share life with John.

That’s commitment. And if commitment is not the foundation of a deep relationship, it’ll never be more than a shadow of what it should be.

I’m going to stop here other than one last important point.

Why else did I not marry Alice? Because I met Alison, who not only fulfilled everything I’ve written about here, but who loved me and mysteriously but marvellously drew an overwhelming and lifelong love from me for her.

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What is missing from this blog post is mention of ‘shared faith’, having both your lives centred in the same belief. In our case, that faith is in God as understood by Christians. I’ll write about ‘Where is your life centred?’ as soon as I can.

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If this blog post has been useful, you might find these interesting and helpful too:

https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/19/  (the post mentioned earlier in the text) and https://occasionallywise.com/2021/06/27/

[1] I Married You was first published in 1971 by Inter-Varsity Press. It has gone through many reprints, and is still available for purchase – the latest publisher is listed as Quiet Waters Publications. The Six Tests of Love are: The sharing test; The strength test; The respect test; The habit test; The quarrel test; The time test. Trobisch adds a final comment: “Sex is no test of love” (pages 89-92). Walter and his wife Ingrid worked for many years in Africa, and I Married You is based on lectures which the couple gave in a large African city. It is still very relevant.

Keep on keeping on

Who recorded this entry in their autobiography?

Well, my book was finally written. The next thing was to find a publisher. I typewrote it myself, on my old secondhand typewriter that never made the capitals plain and wouldn’t print “w” at all, and I sent it to a new American firm that had recently come to the front with several “best sellers.” I thought I might stand a better chance with a new firm than with an old established one that had already a preferred list of writers. But the new firm very promptly sent it back. Next I sent it to one of the “old, established firms” and the old established firm sent it back. Then I sent it, in turn, to three “Betwixt-and-between firms”, and they all sent it back. Four of them returned it with a cold, printed note of rejection; one of them “damned with faint praise.” They wrote that “Our readers report that they find some merit in your story, but not enough to warrant its acceptance.”

That finished me. I put **** away in an old hat-box in the clothes room, resolving that some day when I had time I would take her and reduce her to the original seven chapters of her first incarnation. In that case I was tolerably sure of getting thirty-five dollars for her at least, and perhaps even forty.

The manuscript lay in the hatbox until I came across it one winter day while rummaging. I began turning over the leaves, reading a bit here and there. It didn’t seem so very bad. “I’ll try once more,” I thought. The result was that a couple of months later an entry appeared in my journal to the effect that my book had been accepted. After some natural jubilation I wrote: “The book may or may not succeed. I wrote it for love, not money, but very often such books are the most successful, just as everything in the world that is born of true love has life in it, as nothing constructed for mercenary ends can ever have.

“Well, I’ve written my book! The dream dreamed years ago at that old brown desk in school has come true at last after years of toil and struggle. And the realization is sweet, almost as sweet as the dream.”

If you’re struggling to identify the writer, here are a few clues: Canadian, female, born 1874, died 1942, the four letter word I’ve hidden with stars **** is the first name of her best-known character, and that character famously insisted the last letter of her name was an ‘e’.

By now many will have realised the book being talked about is Anne of Green Gables. It was the first and the most famous work of Lucy Maud Montgomery.

L.M. Montgomery’s book was published in 1908. It has sold more than 50 million copies, and been translated into at least 36 languages. Anne of Green Gables is usually mentioned when people are listing the best-sellers of all time in all languages. After success with Anne, Montgomery wrote many more books.[1] Some were sequels to Anne of Green Gables, though by 1920 Montgomery recorded in her journal that she was tired of Anne as a character. In all she penned 20 novels, over 500 short stories, an autobiography, and a book of poetry. Not bad.

But what if Lucy Maud Montgomery had never retrieved that first manuscript from her hatbox? What if she’d been so discouraged by publishers’ refusals that she had never sent it to the Page Company of Boston, Massachusetts? But she did send it, and Anne’s appeal to both children and adults was recognised. The rest is literary history.

A modern day parallel to Montgomery’s publishing experience involves another female writer, J.K. Rowling.[2] She finished writing Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone in June 1995, and was accepted as a client by a noted literary agency. But her fantasy novel was then turned down by 12 publishers. Finally, it was bought by Bloomsbury Publishing because the head of the firm let his young daughter read the manuscript, and saw how she kept wanting to read chapter after chapter. Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone was published in 1997, the first of seven volumes in the Harry Potter series which has sold over 600 million copies, been translated into 84 languages, and made into successful films.

There are two immediate lessons from the experiences of these women. One, even the most famous writers have endured multiple disappointments when their work has been rejected. Two, many publishers must weep over best-sellers they could have accepted but didn’t.

For me, the most impressive lesson is that these two wonderful women writers didn’t give up. They kept on keeping on, and eventually found success. They persevered.

Perseverance is an important character trait. I looked up perseverance in my thesaurus for words of similar meaning, and got this entry: constancy, dedication, determination, doggedness, endurance, indefatigability, persistence, purposefulness, resolution, sedulity, stamina, steadfastness, tenacity.

So, exploring the theme of keep on keeping on, I’ll expand on some of the words my thesaurus gave me, hoping that will help us understand the value of perseverance.

Purposefulness

During the time I was a reporter in the Glasgow office of a national newspaper, one of the journalists retired after working there for 40 years. The staff gathered round, speeches were made, glasses were raised, and parting gifts were given. Then the elderly reporter left, and everyone else returned to work on their stories.

On the Monday following, the team were back at work, and, to everyone’s surprise, the retired journalist was back too. And he was there on the Tuesday. And Wednesday. And Thursday. And every day after that. Our former colleague simply couldn’t cope with sitting around at home with no purpose for each day. Once it was obvious he’d keep coming to the office, the news editor let him report on minor stories. Which he did for many months.

We all need purpose in our lives. It may come from paid work, or from family, study, caring for others, from a compelling sport or hobby, community projects, or many other things. There is a strong drive to keep doing what gives us purpose.

A motivating purpose is an essential element of perseverance. In 1924 George Mallory made his third attempt to reach Everest’s summit. If he succeeded, he’d be the first to stand on top of the world’s highest mountain. It was his life’s goal. Mallory – and his climbing partner, Andrew (Sandy) Irvine – knew there was a high risk of failure and death. So, in his final letter to his wife Ruth, Mallory wrote, “It is 50 to 1 against us but we’ll have a whack yet & do ourselves proud”. Soon after, Mallory and Irvine disappeared in the mist, and it has never been known for sure whether or not they reached Everest’s summit. (Their bodies were finally discovered only in 1999 and 2024.) Maybe they were right to try; maybe they should not. But, imbued with a driving purpose, they felt they must make one final attempt, whatever the consequence.

Perseverance and purpose are inextricably linked together.

Stamina

I have painful and humbling memories from the school day when the P.E. teacher told us to run four laps of the athletic track. I started well, by which I mean only that I almost kept up with everyone else during lap one. Lap two wasn’t as good, but I got round it without completely losing sight of the leaders. My mental and physical agony began on the third lap. For one thing the leaders were going past me on their fourth lap. For another thing I had a near disabling pain in my side, and my legs were getting heavier with every stride. My humiliation and suffering peaked on lap four. Clearly someone had secretly attached invisible lead weights to my legs, because now they refused any signal from my brain to go faster. I kept telling my legs to run, but they weren’t listening. In fact running was now no more than a dream. All I could do was drag my legs forward, one painful step after another. I never finished. I just didn’t have what it takes to run four laps of that track.

What was missing was stamina. I had a purpose, a goal to get round all four laps as quickly as possible. But neither my head nor my body could supply the staying power to keep running.

The inability to last the course is disturbingly common. I’ve watched marathon races in both London and Chicago. The elite runners did really well. The good runners kept striving for PBs (personal best times). But then, long after most, came the mass of marathon one-timers. For too many of them, training had been little more than occasional runs around their local park, which was seriously inadequate preparation for a 26.2 mile (42km) race. They failed, some because they hadn’t prepared their bodies, and others because they had never really believed they could run the distance, and therefore gave up as soon as they experienced pain.

Similarly, I’ve seen work colleagues give up on complex tasks. When they couldn’t find answers immediately, they didn’t keep trying; they just abandoned the project. I’ve known dog owners take their puppies to obedience classes, but completely fail later to continue the disciplines with their dog. One owner shrugged his shoulders and muttered “the training didn’t work”. Wrong. The owner didn’t work. He didn’t keep applying the lessons until the dog really knew what to do. He should have kept trying, kept persevering. But he didn’t. He lacked stamina, an essential element for reaching any important goal.

Constancy

I like this word. Dictionaries define it with synonyms and phrases like ‘faithfulness’, ‘fidelity’, ‘loyalty’, ‘dependability’, ‘endurance’, ‘steadfastness of mind under duress’, ‘quality of being unchanging’. In short, constancy describes the character of someone who sticks to their task, who can be depended on not to give up, who won’t be swayed by persuasion, problems, or even occasional failures. They will do what they said they will do.

Angie was like that. She wasn’t the brightest or the quickest, but give Angie a job to do and she’d work away quietly and steadily and produce good results. I never had to worry that she wouldn’t be thorough, or that she’d give up. Angie just kept going and did her work well. Colleagues like Angie were priceless.

I’ve had friends like that, people who were far more than just casual acquaintances. They supported me through the hardest of times, knew my mistakes but didn’t judge me, and they stuck with me for the long-term when others would have given up. I knew I could trust my life to friends like that. Constancy very well describes the quality I saw in them.

Sedulity

I admit I didn’t know the word ‘sedulity’ so I looked it up. The dictionary defines sedulity as ‘the quality or fact of being careful and using a lot of effort’. Two key aspects of perseverance are highlighted in that definition.

One is about being careful. Perseverance does not legitimise persisting with unwise or unrealistic projects. I know of someone who applied for a new line of work, and wrote that he knew the new role must be right for him because every career choice he’d made before had come to nothing. I can’t imagine why he thought writing that in his application would help. Maybe he imagined that his persistence in trying was a quality, or that by discovering what was not right for him, his latest choice must be the one that was right for him. Those considering his application did not agree. The applicant showed perseverance, but no evidence of being careful about either his career choices or his standard of work.  

Sedulity also means working hard. An oft-used phrase is ‘when the going gets tough, the tough get going’. That’s clever but too trite. However, there is some truth in it. In my mid-20s, I was employed by a local council’s education department to organise school buses for children who lived beyond walking distance from their schools. (Note for North America friends: school bussing in the UK is done by contracts with private bus or coach firms, not by owning a fleet of buses.) I began by studying the established routes which for many years had been put out for bids to contractors. They made no sense to me. The most blatant nonsense was that no children lived on some of those routes. At one time they had, but not now. I talked to the bosses of the bus firms, and then understood what had happened over the years. Keeping track of children needing transport was problematic – new children moved into the area; around age 12 children switched from primary to secondary schools; older children finished schooling; some elected to go to other schools; others just moved out of our area. It was complex. So complex that my predecessors in the job just accepted it was a muddle, put out the same routes year after year and left the bus owners to make the best of the bad information. They did what they could, but the system wasn’t right and wasn’t efficient. Buses went down ‘empty’ routes, and other kids got no transport. That was no way to serve families or run a budget-hungry service. Working with the schools, I tracked who needed the service now, plotted routes on maps, and then sent out the detailed routes for tenders. The new system worked, much to the relief of parents, schools and (mostly) the contractors. Perseverance often requires digging in to complicated and awkward issues, and working for as long as it takes to sort them out.

Dedication 

This is another word I like. It carries meanings like devotedness, faithfulness, loyalty and commitment. No-one ‘keeps keeping on’ without those qualities.

The story of dedication I grew up with in Scotland, and also known around the world, is not about a person’s devotion but a dog’s – Greyfriars Bobby. Here’s a short version of Bobby’s story.

In the 1850s, in Scotland’s capital city of Edinburgh, John Gray kept himself out of the workhouse by being hired as a night watchman with the city’s police force. His partner through cold winter nights was his small Skye Terrier, Bobby. Night after night, they were an inseparable pair as they walked Edinburgh’s cobbled streets together. But those hard nights damaged John’s health, and he died of tuberculosis in 1858, and was buried in the small cemetery surrounding Greyfriars Kirk (church). After the funeral service in the churchyard, everyone left. Except Bobby. From then on, day and night, and whatever the weather, Bobby stayed by his master’s grave. A graveyard gardener eventually put sacking between two adjacent ‘tablestones’ (gravestones mounted horizontally about 30 inches (76 cm) off the ground) so Bobby had shelter. And a local joiner persuaded Bobby to go with him to a coffee house each day where Bobby was given a meal. When a city law was passed that all dogs must have a licence or be destroyed, the Lord Provost paid for Bobby’s licence and gave him a unique collar attesting to that. For 14 years Bobby kept watch over his master’s grave, and then he died in 1872. The following year a granite fountain with a sculpture of Bobby was erected near the entrance to the Greyfriars Kirkyard. It is still there, and has this inscription: “A tribute to the affectionate fidelity of GREYFRIARS BOBBY. In 1858 this faithful dog followed the remains of his master to Greyfriars Churchyard and lingered near to the spot until his death in 1872”.[1]

The life size statue to Greyfriars Bobby.
Michael Reeve, CC BY-SA 3.0 <http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/&gt;, via Wikimedia Commons

Bobby’s dedication to his master was remarkable. Similarly, people who persevere must be devoted, loyal, and committed. How dedication is shown depends on circumstances, but no-one will keep keeping on without it. Just these words in closing. Too often these days we want everything now or to get them without effort. Governments are supposed to deliver results from the day they’re elected. Employees are meant to plan and deliver projects without delay. Things we want to buy we buy now, whether or not we have the money. Relationships – including marriages – are supposed to be wonderful for ever without pain or strain. But reality is different. The best accomplishments require time and work. That means they require perseverance, which includes the qualities listed above. Keep on keeping on. It’s worth it.

[1] A favourite of mine is Rilla of Ingleside, a story centred on Rilla (a short form of Marilla), the youngest child of Anne. The book is the eighth and last in the Anne of Green Gables series.

[2] It is interesting that both Montgomery and Rowling used initials and not first names for their books. Montgomery had adopted that practice with short stories she wrote before ‘Anne’. It was a common custom at the time for women writers to hide their gender. Rowling was born Joanne Rowling. But her publisher urged her to have a gender-neutral pen name, so she added Kathleen as a middle name and used the initials J.K. She was working for Amnesty International in London when she began writing the Harry Potter series.

[3] Though I’ve known the story of Greyfriars Bobby since childhood, my summary here is based on the record made by Historic UK: https://www.historic-uk.com/HistoryUK/HistoryofScotland/Greyfriars-Bobby/