The Law Hospital Years
Dad took up post on 15th February 1961. He had been
looking for a promotion for some time – I remember being kept off school one
day to accompany my parents to Kirkcaldy where dad was going for an interview.
Presumably the idea of us all going was to give my mother a feel for the town and
its environs in case dad’s job application was successful. I remember sitting
with mum on a coal-scarred beach waiting for him to return, and not being hugely
impressed by the environment.
The development of the X-Ray Department at the
800-bed Law Hospital was to be the work of his life. Although in his early
years there he applied for a Consultant’s post at the Southern General Hospital
in Glasgow, it was at Law that he reached Consultant level, and headed up X-Ray
services there until his retirement in 1987.
Innovations
Dad’s 25 years at Law Hospital saw major technical
developments in the technology of what became known as Diagnostic Imaging, and
my father was an enthusiastic innovator. He told the Probus Group in 1989 that
during his 41 years in radiology there was ‘an explostion of new techniques in
radiology and associated specialties.’
A new procedure in the early 1960s was the delivery
of intra-uterine blood transfusions to foetuses considered to have a very high
risk of death before the 34th week of pregnancy due to their blood group being
Rhesus positive while the mother’s was Rhesus negative. Radiological support
was crucial to the success of these interventions, and my father and two
colleagues, a gynaecologist and a paediatrician introduced refinements to the
procedure, and published reports of their work in the Scottish Medical Journal:
Technique of
intra-uterine transfusion of the foetus by M. D. Black, W. H. Dempster and
J. Y. Macdougall (August 1967)
Intra-uterine
transfusion in a county obstetric service by Jean Y. MacDougall, M. D.
Black and W. H. Dempster (1972)
Dad told the Probus Group that early in his career
‘only examinations using X-Rays were performed but now the field has extended
to ultrasound, nuclear scans and nuclear magnetic resonance.’ Specialisms
within radiology had also developed, he pointed out, such as neuroradiology,
vascular radiology, and nuclear magnetic resonance.
The use of ultrasound technology for examination was
introduced to Law in 1976, where it was initially used for confirming pregnancy
and showing foetal development. By 1989, as dad explained to his Probus
audience, it was the technology of choice for a range of examinations including
those of liver, kidneys, pancreas, prostate, thyroid gland and heart action.
My father had made arrangements to introduce nuclear
scanning to Law in 1983, but this wasn’t funded. By this point the costs of
innovative equipment was so great that it was no longer practical for every
hospital to offer the full range of technologies. In the 1980s, Law Hospital patients
requiring nuclear scanning had to be referred to Monklands Hospital in Airdrie or
to a Glasgow hospital.
Under my father’s leadership, Law was one of the
first X-Ray departments in Scotland to give open access to General
Practitioners (rather than simply serving hospital wards and out-patient
departments.) This, my father said, was appreciated both by GPs and patients as
it reduced waiting times
The growing
department
Law Hospital occupied four main blocks of wards each
with some X Ray facilities. The major unit was in ‘C Block’, however, and
continued to grow in size during dad’s time there (from three examination rooms
to ten) to accommodate increasing numbers of patients and proliferating
technologies. Dad was involved in the planning of all these extensions.
The earliest of these cost just £17,000. Dad was
particularly proud of a creative idea he had when this project was at the
design stage. He described it in an article written at the time:
From the
reception desk, patients are directed to the appropriate cubicles by a system
of coloured bands integrated in the floor covering, e.g. a blue band leads to
the ‘barium’ cubicles and a yellow band to the cubicles for the new X-Ray room.
A second extension, costing £80,000 and housing a
diagnostic suite complete with changing rooms and showers was opened by Ronald Miller, chairman of the
Lanarkshire Health Board on 8th December 1976. According to a local press
report dated 27th December 1976, the new suite was equipped with a
multiplanigraph (an X-Ray machine, enabling an X-Ray film to be taken at a
specified level in a specified area of the body) and a diasonagraph (an
ultrasound device.) Of the latter, dad said at the time that the device worked
in the same way as echo-sounding equipment ‘best noted for its war-time role in
tracking down enemy submarines.’ This technique had been adapted to provide an
image on a TV screen of babies in the womb.
A further major extension to the C Block X-Ray
department, this time costing £750,000 was opened 10th June 1983 by Mrs Bunty
M. Gunn, Chair of the Lanarkshire Health Board. Mrs Gunn commented drily in an
appreciative letter after the event that ‘C Block sounds like a part of HM
prisons.’ My father noted in his Probus talk that though this project took
eight years to bring from drawing board to completion, and hence was initially
conceived in 1975, it was still, in 1989, coping well with patient flow.
Equipping C X-Ray was also costly - the average cost
of replacement equipment for one of the ten examination rooms was £250,000, and
each room needed re-equipped once a decade. My father therefore aimed to secure
the budget to replace the equipment in one room each year.
In his 1989 Probus talk, my father gave some
indication of the costs for consumables at C X-Ray. The monthly film bill for X-Ray
films was, after a discount of 22.5%,
£15,400. A single chest film cost £2.63 and of the two other commonly
used sizes of film, one cost £2.08, the other £1.66. The injection for an IVP
examination (Intravenous pyelogram – involving scrutiny of the urinary system) cost £14.59 and for an arterial examination
approximately £18-£30, while a barium enema kit was priced at £4.83.
Leadership
My father’s calm, discerning leadership abilities were recognised within
Law Hospital and beyond.
He served on the Board of Management for Southern Lanarkshire Hospitals
from 1st April 1966 until it was wound
up on 31st March 1974.
He convened a meeting on 4th February 1974 at which the
Division of Radiology, Lanarkshire was established in the light of the move to Area
Board Administration on 1st April 1974. Dad was first Secretary, and then for
many years Chair of this body. The
Division aimed to bring together all radiologists in Lanarkshire (and a
representative Superintendent Radiographer) at regular intervals in order to
provide a concerted voice to the Area Board Executive, to make representations
for additional consultant staff, and to ensure that the provision of new facilities, such as
ultrasound was rolled out in a co-ordinated way.
In 1981, following the retirement of one of the other
Law Hospital Senior Consultants, dad was appointed to a rather quaint group
known as the ‘Three Wise Men’ whose advice was sought, I presume by managers as
well as professional colleagues when difficult decisions had to be made. Dad
joined Robert Walker and a surgeon, Mr Ritchie as a member of this triumvirate.
Dad’s achievements were recognised through the rather
secretive system of ‘Distinction Award’ payment enhancements. Distinction award
Class C, worth £1000 per annum became payable to him by the Western Regional
Hospital Board from 1st April 1969, at the then rate of £1000 per
year by the Western Regional Hospital Board and the Class B Award from 1st
April 1982.
As a further recognition if his achievements he and
my mother were invited to and present at the Royal Garden Party at Holyrood
House on 6th July 1978.
After dad’s retirement, he received a letter from
Unit General Manager of the Motherwell and Clydesdale Unit of Lanarkshire Health
Board thanking him for his input over the years. ‘I for one regret the loss of
your advice and your assistance in making clear to me the intricacies of your
profession.’ The manager added ‘I will certainly miss you on a more personal
basis, as it was always a great pleasure to meet with you and outwith business
to relax in the calm atmosphere which you generate. I found it interesting that
this was commented on [at the retiral celebration] and obviously you have a
calming effect on others beside myself.’
I remember on the wall of my father’s office at C X-Ray
he displayed a large poster from the Argos range, purchased from my Scripture
Union Bookshop reading Slow me down, Lord.
Commitment to patient care
Throughout his working life, patient care remained my
father’s priority. He told the Probus Group in 1989 that ‘My aim has always
been to give the patient the highest possible priority.’ To minimise the
patients’ anxiety he sought ‘as far as possible to explain the sequence of
examinations, some of which can be a little traumatic.’ And he was concerned
too about helping patients find their way to the department – hence the
coloured lines on the floor, and his assurance to his fellow members of Probus
that while in the light of new techniques other hospitals might be renaming
their X-Ray departments as ‘Department of Radiology’ or ‘Department of Medical
Imaging’ at Law ‘we retained “X-Ray Department” to prevent confusion.’
My father outlined the thinking behind his commitment
to the patient in a talk he gave in 1974. It was his opinion that the NHS
re-organisation which took place from 1st April 1974 would ‘appeal to GPs and
patients alike’ not on account of the macro-organisational changes, but due to
the emphasis on ‘the concept of community hospitals where patients will be
treated for the more minor illnesses by their own GPs near their own homes.’
To dad, ease of access for patients to appropriate
expertise and treatments lay at the heart of the matter. ‘The success or
failure of any scheme,’ he said ‘becomes apparent at the doctor/patient level.
Medicine is a service rendered by the doctor as a person to the patient as a
person.’
Dad examined reasons for the perceived ‘deterioration
in the doctor/patient relationship’, concluding that the increasing complexity
of medicine meant that more and more people were involved in treating any one
patient. Dad advocated having a designated individual in the medical team who
would be responsible for ensuring that the patient was kept informed of the
need for each examination and given a report of the results.
The size of hospitals, my father argued was ‘a
further difficulty in maintaining an intimate human relationship between the
doctor and the patient.’ He quoted a patient at a District Hospital: ‘The
amenities are wonderful, the food excellent, the building splendid, but how
impersonal it all is.’ Dad felt the same
might be true of the new Health Centres in which a number of medical practices,
previously individually located, were housed, and where it was consequently harder
to build a relationship with a given doctor.
Dad outlined a description he had read of the
respective role of doctor and patient in nurturing the relationship. The doctor should display not only competence
and integrity, but also sympathy, of which dad said ‘Illnesses can be diagnosed
and treated without this being shown, but I know from personal experience how
helpful this is in encouraging a patient during a difficult procedure or
examination.’ The patient should show trust
(‘It is amazing the trust a patient may place in a doctor who is a complete
stranger. The greater the trust, the more effective the treatment.’) respect (‘This
used to be a feature of the relationship, but is declining due to faults on
both sides and due to the age of change in which we live’) and gratitude (‘This
is something that is not expected these days, but when sincere does give
encouragement.’)
My father then described the inspiration which the
Christian faith has given to medicine over the years
Could I quote
from Arnold Allis, a surgeon in Bristol. ‘I suppose the Christian ideal in
medicine has as its background the story of the Good Samaritan. Here we have a
vital personal service rendered freely to another person, not because he was a
friend or a relative or even a fellow national but because he was a suffering
and needy fellow being. It is the expression in its most practical form of
obedience to the great commandment – “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as
thyself.”’
It
might be said today that, whilst this may
have been the source of the ethos of medicine in the past, it is no longer
necessary because the Good Samaritan has been nationalised, the oil and wine
have been replaced by subsidised medicine, the donkey by the ambulance service,
the Inn by the District Hospital and the two pence by sickness benefit. It is
doubtful if the Good Samaritan can be nationalised without losing the essence
of the story. This is personal relationship, expressing itself in love,
sympathy and unstinted practical service. I would suggest that where this is in
evidence there will be no problem regarding the quality of patient care.
I believe that the words ‘love, sympathy and
unstinted practical service’ well describe my father’s approach to others, both
in his medical practice and in his private live, and he was always concerned
when any patient received less than an appropriate level of care in his
department.
Retirement
Dad retired on his 65th birthday on 2nd October
1987. The previous evening, there was a dinner and presentation at the Popinjay
Hotel at Rosebank. He left behind a vibrant department and a long history of
commitment to colleagues and patients.
He summed up his career using some quirky statistics
in his Probus talk. Over the years, he reckoned, he had carried out
approximately 37,680 barium meal examinations using 1,570 gallons of barium and
150,720 films at a cost of £51,000, and 14,352 barium enemas using 5,588
gallons of barium and 87,000 films at a cost of £431,000.
Law Hospital closed in 2001 when the new Wishaw General Hospital was
opened.
By the time of my father’s retirement, my parents
were living at a new house at 41 Holm Road, Crossford, Lanarkshire lying in the
Clyde Valley beneath Carluke. In 1975, my parents and I had moved from 36
Douglas Street in Carluke to a very pleasant older house at 22 West Avenue in
the town. Three years later, we moved to another lovely house Westgate, 2
Motherwell Street, close to where my mother lived as a child on which an offer
of £35,100 was made on 22nd May
1978. Mr Hall the lawyer at Davidson and
Shirley, Lanark who had looked after dad’s business for many years said in a letter
dated 4th October 1978 ‘I have from the outset had the impression that Westgate
was just “what the doctor ordered” and you will now no doubt be fully
established.’
I am not sure why my parents made that particular
move – in 1978 we were attending Ebenezer Hall, a Brethren church at Coatdyke
in Airdrie, and my father may have thought it would be helpful for my own
engagement with that church to be living in the catchment area. The years I
lived in that house were not particularly happy ones for me. After I moved into
my own flat in December 1983, my parents moved to Crossford in 1985.
Christian activities
My father was welcoming the elderly lady at the
church door in the conventional manner on a wintry Sunday morning. He felt the
need to apologise for the low temperature of his hands, to which she replied
‘Never mind!’ and quoted a traditional saying ‘Cold hands, warm heart.’ In
keeping with his commitment to patient care at work, dad’s Christian activities
were overwhelmingly people-centred.
Church work
My father’s history of church attendance was varied. Following
the move to Westerton, my parents joined Allander Gospel Hall in Milngavie (now
Allander Evangelical Church) where they worshipped until moving to Carluke in
1962. There, they initially were members of the Martin Memorial Baptist Church,
attracted by the charisma of the pastor, the Revd George A. J. Balmer. Later,
some years after Mr Balmer’s departure, they switched their allegiance to Carluke
Gospel Hall. Later still, they began travelling across to Airdrie each Sunday
to Ebenezer Hall, Coatdyke where my father’s parents had worshipped. It was this
renewed engagement at Ebenezer which led to their move to Airdrie in 1978. In part, the motivation for these moves arose
from relational issues within the different fellowships, but a major factor in
my parents’ decision-making was a desire to see me in a spiritual environment
conducive to my flourishing.
After I finally left home in 1983 and joined Airdrie
Baptist Church, my parents moved to the Clyde Valley, where they attended
Kirkstyle Baptist Church in Carluke, the successor to the Martin Memorial
Church. When they joined this Church on
Sunday 26th August 1984, the minister, the Revd Henry R. Telfer gave
my father a card on which he had written the following verse from Isaiah 26:
‘Though dost keep him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed in Thee.’
Finally, after moving north to Inverness in 1996, my
parents belonged first to Celt Street Evangelical Church where Lorna and I were
members and then, after we moved on to another church, they worshipped at the
West Church of Scotland beside the River Ness. When that Church relocated to
Inshes in the early 21st century and was renamed Inshes Church of
Scotland my parents were part of the new fellowship.
I believe my father was an elder at Allander Hall in
the 1950s; he was a deacon and for a while Church Treasurer at the Martin Memorial
Baptist church; he helped lead the Youth Group at Carluke Gospel Hall. Other
than this, he had no formal role in the churches he attended, but he visited
those who were old or sick, or both, bringing comfort, encouragement, medical
advice, and sometimes financial support. I remember the day he drove all the
way to Edinburgh from Carluke to bring home a teenager from the church who,
together with a friend, had got on the wrong train at Glasgow Central and had
arrived, not at Carluke, but at Edinburgh Waverley.
My father very occasionally spoke at church services.
More often, he would be invited to give talks on a spiritual theme based on his
work. He’d take with him a viewing box – a metal light box with opaque plastic
on the front, and a clip to hold an X-Ray film. He would spend many hours
sitting it a table in his office at Law Hospital ‘reporting’ – holding films up
to the light, diagnosing the patient’s condition, painstakingly checking the
diagnosis and then dictating a report into a hand-held recording device for
subsequent typing by a clerical colleague. Anyway, this light box would
accompany him to the church where he was to speak, along with some X-Rays
showing different conditions. He would speak about his work, and about the God
who knows us more intimately than any diagnostic imaging device, the God who
sees our hearts.
Christian
organisations
My father was also committed to supporting Christian
missionary societies and individual Christian missionaries, financially, in
prayer, by letter after his retirement by email. Most of those with whom he had
personal contact were Brethren missionaries, or workers with the Baptist
Missionary Society, the Overseas Missionary Fellowship, and the Worldwide
Evangelisation Crusade (now Worldwide Evangelisation for Christ.) My father
arranged and supported missionary meetings at church, and together with his
colleague Robert Walker often facilitated medical examinations and treatment at
Law Hospital for missionaries who were, as the expression was ‘on furlough.’
Late in life, he described his commitment to mission
in a letter dated 5th December 2006 ‘I
still maintain contact with many Missions and their work does not get any
easier with the tremendous changes in the big world around and its attitude to
Christians and to the dear Lord Himself. It certainly takes great courage to
serve. But HE giveth the strength and courage day by day.’
Dad (along with his colleague Robert Walker) was an
enthusiastic supporter of the Christian Medical Fellowship (for a time he
regularly attended the annual Scottish Conference at Crieff Hydro. He was also
enthusiastic about Tear Fund, and was present at its Scottish launch in the
autumn of 1973. He was active in the Lanarkshire Branch of the Gideons
International, which donated Bibles to hotels for placing in their guest
bedrooms, and gave each first year pupil at secondary schools a special edition
of the New Testament.
Following his retirement, my father set up a
Clydesdale prayer group in connection with Captain Stephen Anderson’s national
Concern for Scotland initiative, and led each meeting giving a short Bible talk
from February 1988 until he moved to Inverness.
Also in retirement, he did voluntary work for Wycliffe Bible
Translators, digitising St Mark’s Gospel on his Amstrad 9512 computer in the
O’odham language of two tribes (the Papagos and the Pimas) who live on either
side of the border of America and Mexico.
But my father’s main ministry, out-with church as
within it lay in the personal encouragement of individuals, in which he showed
both sensitivity and empathy. He made regular phone calls to a circle of
friends, and wrote to them as well. Here he is, for example, writing to a
couple in December 2001. The wife had been unwell, and had to travel daily for
treatment from Lanarkshire to Gartnavel Hospital in Glasgow. Dad wrote from
himself and my mother:
we…feel very
deeply for you indeed. What these last few weeks have been like [for you] is
difficult to comprehend with the daily journeys to Gartnavel in a weak physical
and nervous condition. We assure you of more intense prayer on your behalf for
healing. My favourite verse in such situations is Zephaniah 3v17, ‘The Lord
your God is with you etc’. We both have had health problems over the past two
months, not to the same degree as you, but a Chorus from of old came back and
has been a great blessing ‘Following Jesus ever day by day, nothing can harm me
when Jesus leads the way, darkness and sunshine whate’er befall, Jesus the
Shepherd is my all in all.’
Someone wrote of him: ‘You are a very special gentleman with a special
unique touch and presence about you….In my eyes Dr Dempster you are quite
simply a diamond that shines.’
Christian
faith
The handful of surviving personal letters from him give
an insight into his own deep personal faith, which was always central to his
life. As a child, I would hear him pray at the morning meeting at Allendar
Hall, and our days were book-ended by readings by dad from Daily Light – first from the Authorised Version and later in the
New International Version. As a child my mother and I would smile at one
another when the reading contained the word ‘propitiation’ which my father
could never pronounce without an odd whistling sound. And I both relished and
was made a little uncomfortable by my father’s obvious embarrassment when the
selection for the day included Hebrews 12:8 with the words ‘then are ye
bastards, and not sons.’ I don’t, however, remember my father every talking to
me personally about my own faith or lack of it.
That was probably due to my reticence as much as to
his. I remember once in the late 1970s when we were still living in Carluke but
attending Ebenezer Hall in Coatdyke we were unable to make the journey because
it was a snowy day. ‘I think we should have our own time of worship in the
living room,’ my father said. I found this cringe-making, and sat there
awkwardly unable to cope with spiritual openness.
Another letter from late in his life which sheds some
light on his own spirituality was written on 12th February 2005 to a
young man who had a new job:
The first few
weeks will be difficult at times and I know how you will feel as the last few
months have been difficult for me, too. We need guidance and strengthening from
a Higher Power and it is amazing how God makes the way clear to us, when we ask
Him humbly what to do in a particular situation and trust Him to do what is
best for us. We can do this at any time, night or day for small or big problems
and just quietly tell Him our fears or needs and as we trust He will guide
forward. If you are [out in] the van, carefully park it and just for a few
minutes open your heart to Him, thank Him for listening and you will be
surprised how often as you trust, he will give you real peace. I will be
remembering you daily and pray God’s blessing and joy for you in the coming
days.
A few months later he wrote to the same person, shortly after my mother’s
death:
I had some
problems yesterday too, and asked the Lord for guidance. The Bible verse He
gave me will help you also. It is Proverbs chapter 3 verse 5. ‘Trust in the
Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding; in all your
ways acknowledge Him and He will make your paths straight.’ In another version,
‘He will direct your path.’ I trust you will be conscious of His guiding.
In the closing years of his life, my father spoke
often of God guiding him, and left yellow post-its on which he had written
verses from the Bible and lines from hymns in strategic places around the
house. He also spoke often of waking at night, alone and perhaps afraid, and
words from hymns coming clearly to mind with a sense of ‘givenness’, sustaining
and encouraging him.
This emphasis on receiving guidance from God is articulated
in a talk given at Celt Street Evangelical Church on 31st December 1996, in
which my father described how my parents had decided to move north from
Crossford seeing this move as being in a divine plan for their lives:
The vital point
in this, of course, is not what we think should be done but what God’s will is
for us. This is an aspect of Christian living we don’t hear much about these
days, but it is so important.
Mum and dad were settled in their retirement home ‘in
the lovely upper Clyde Valley with lots of Christian friends locally,’ but they
felt it was ‘God’s will for us’ to be near me and the family ‘and He has made
this clear to us in so many different ways from His storehouse of promises in
the Bible and in the words of favourite hymns.’
In the early
stages, Psalm 37:5 was helpful. ‘Commit your way unto the Lord, trust also in
Him and He will bring it to pass.’ ….We know the verse so well that we don’t
get the full meaning sometimes. We came to the point where ‘commit’ really
meant, “Lord I can’t cope, it is over to you to guide, and ‘trust’ meant
complete surrender to His will with no room for doubting; following by
fulfilment, peace, security, progress.
My parents felt in the spring of 1995 ‘that God would
have us move.’ They put the house on the market, but then mum had a bad flu
type illness which took some weeks to clear. The house advertising was
cancelled. ‘The promise then was “Trust in the Lord with all Thine
Heart”……Proverbs 3.5 Again it was “over to you, Lord” and a clear promise of
His direction.’
It became clear at Easter 1996 that they should put
the house up for sale. ‘There was an initial delay with clear guidance to
change the selling agent and then they house was sold within ten days.’
My father described similar experiences of guidance
in renting accommodation in Inverness, and finally finding and purchasing 98
Culduthel Park. He told his audience that he and mum had signed up for the house
the first day they saw it. ‘We don’t normally make snap decisions,’ he added. (I
recall dad asking my advice on buying this house – or seeking confirmation that
buying it had been a wise thing to do – as I spoke to him from a public phone
box in Lochcarron where my work had taken me that day. I recall it so vividly
because it was I think the first time my father had ever asked my advice about
anything.)
Dad concluded his talk by saying:
How important
it is for us to have His Guidance in every aspect of life. ‘Through many
dangers toils and snares I have already come, Tis Grace that brought me safe
this far and Grace will lead me home.’
I do wonder about aspects of this scenario. Dad’s
account of guidance makes it sound on the one hand so easy, so perfect that
those of us with lesser faith might end up intimidated, but on the other hand
so intense and perplexing, an evangelical theology of guidance which can tie
you in knots rather than simply entrusting that God speaks through the deepest
desires of your heart.
There’s no record of what dad said about the journey
of my parents’ marriage at their silver wedding celebration which was held in
The Arran Suite. Central Hotel, Glasgow
on 2nd April 1976 attended by 27 people.
But I felt there was a certain strangeness in the emphasis of the talk
dad gave at the meal held at the Inverness Marriott Hotel on 2nd April
2001 to mark their golden wedding anniversary. There were just 15 of us at the
event, which dad organised meticulously.
He wrote to the hotel on 20th March 2001 regarding the menu, and specifying
with a sweet attention to detail the food preferences of the ‘two little girls’
(my daughters) who would be attending:
Rebecca: Tomato and three cheese
pizza, chip sand beans. Bethany: Chicken Jungle Shapes with chips and beans.’
And for both of them ‘Fruit Pastille Lolly'
Dad began his talk as follows:
Our response to
this occasion is one of thanksgiving to God for His great love to us, for
guidance and strengthening in all the different scenes of life. We praise Him
for all that is past and trust Him for all that’s to come. I would especially
like to thank Helen for all her support, love and care over the years of happiness
together and to John, Lorna, Rebecca and Bethany for their love, concern, fun
and happiness which they bring to us week by week.
He said that he would not bore his audience ‘with an
account of our involvement in church activities or my own professional life.’
But he had added as a marginal note which I wish he had left unsaid, for he was
in general a humble man, the nature of that professional life – ‘Head of Dept,
Chairman of Prestigious Hospital Committee.’
But he would, he continued, mention a ‘“behind the
scenes Service” which is still proving a blessing for us both, a strange one
perhaps [an odd phrase, surely] – as encouragers.’ He gave a specific example
of this ministry of encouragement, and then added
There are
missionaries overseas whom we have been in touch with 3 to 4 times yearly and
with daily prayers for 40 to 46 years and support. …There are older friends
contacted by card or phone and given encouragement and health advice up to the
present….Today more than ever, loving each other, encouraging each other, and
praying for each other is vital. That is our service now, as long as God spares
us.
Why I was uneasy about this is that it was on the one
hand so perfect, and yet on the other so lacking in real self-revelation. There
was nothing of the challenges my parents must have faced in the course of their
marriage, nothing of the anguish of losing a child, nothing of the recognition
that my mother was in the early stages of Alzheimer’s Disease, nothing of
struggle and of finding God in the pain. Almost all my father said depicted my
parents as hosts in relationships, giving out to others, never as guests,
receiving solace and comfort. In my brief words at the meal, before an epilogue
was given by Alastair Malcolm the minister of Inshes Church I made brief
mention of hard times in my parents’ lives.
I wonder whether my father somehow felt that
perfection was necessary in Christian life, that pain should be brushed aside
rather than acknowledged and spoken of, that he had not learned that it’s OK
not to be perfect. Perhaps that’s a lesson that my generation has taken on
board more readily than his.
Part 3 is here.
Part 3 is here.
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