Do not stand at my grave and weep

Don’t panic, precious readers of my occasional blog. The title is not chosen as a personal reflection and is not the reason, either, of my silence for some weeks. I have just returned from a school inspection visit in India and the words above leapt out at me from a tombstone. Let me explain…

A passage to India

My visit to India took in the former colonial sanatorium hill station of Ootacamund (Udhagamandulam today – but everyone still calls it Ooty). ‘Snooty Ooty’ of imperial fame, sits at the top of the Nilgiri Hills at 7,500 feet altitude (twice as high as Ben Nevis https://bennevis.co.uk) in the south Indian state of Tamil Nadu. Here in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the British would retreat from the heat and disease of the plains, to rule the southern subcontinent from a mini-Surrey complete with bungalows, libraries, clubs, churches, guest houses and European schools. Many of these buildings still survive and so on a break from the rigours of school inspection I ventured up to St Stephen’s, part of the Church of South India (and pictured above).

In memoriam

The memorial plaques and graves of St Stephen’s are testimony to ‘the white man’s graveyard’, albeit on a different continent from whence that epitaph originates. There’s one to the Captain in the Bombay Grenadiers who died aged 36, ‘drowned in the Kromund river while out hunting with the Ootacamund Hounds‘. Another is to the young soldier who ‘died on this very spot – killed by a tiger‘. (I did see a tiger, my first ever in the wild, on this visit: I was ‘on a course’ for the morning – a golf course I have to admit – and there it was, bold as brass, sauntering from one hole to another: not so much playing with Tiger Woods, but playing with a tiger from the woods!) But, I digress.

Mourning great loss

The saddest memorial plaques are to the wives of colonial administrators and soldiers. There’s one to Georgiana Grace, wife of JC Wroughton, Esq., who was the Collector (of taxes) for the province. She passed away in 1847 aged 30 years ‘leaving her husband and seven children to deplore their irreparable loss‘. Alongside this stone is that of Henrietta Cecilia, wife of the founder of Ootacamund, John Sullivan. Henrietta died in 1838 aged 36 and her stone also bears testimony to Harriet, their daughter, who also passed away prematurely, aged 17 years. The plaque goes on to mention the Sullivans’ eight children who, together with their father, ‘mourn the loss of these the objects of their tenderest love’.

Great joy and hope are there, too

On the face of it these, and other tombs, are illustrative of much sadness and anguish. However, it doesn’t take long to note, too, the hope they also had. Henrietta Sullivan’s plaque concludes with this sentiment: ‘Not however as those without hope but believing that as “Jesus died and rose again, even so them also which sleep in Jesus, will God bring with Him”‘. Out in the graveyard, positioned between two ancient tombs, there is a new-looking sign which says: ‘reserved’. Poignantly alongside this, is a large headstone which bears the words at the top of this blog, ‘Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I do not sleep‘. There then follows a verse of a poem by Steven Cummins which concludes: ‘Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there, I did not die‘.

There’s a challenge here to live our lives so filled with faith and love that when we eventually die in an earthly sense, we do so knowing without any doubt that we then enter an eternal life in the presence of Jesus. Weeping at funerals and at a loved one’s death is perfectly natural – but let there be joy, too, when believers are remembered.

Unsung Heroes

SPOTY

I watched SPOTY – the BBC’s annual Sports Personality of the Year – last weekend and, like so many, was amazed by the breadth and range of sporting success (and some failure) enjoyed by British athletes of all disciplines in 2019. I was especially struck afresh by the importance of the ‘quiet word’, encouragement and ‘behind the scenes’ support given by coaches, family, friends and others – the ‘unsung heroes’. Whilst my own sporting journey to date has been modest, to say the least, compared to all that was on display in SPOTY, I can testify to something of what the writer to the Hebrews refers to as ‘the cloud of witnesses‘ (in Hebrews 12 in the New Testament).

Early sporting interest

My parents come to mind initially. We were very fortunate to live Overseas until I was 18 years of age and my Mum and Dad taught me firstly to swim (apparently I could do this before I could walk and would worry bystanders by doing most of it underwater) and, secondly, to play golf. I didn’t enjoy golf initially but their encouragement and example ensured I didn’t easily give up and then in my teens the golfing ‘bug’ stuck and I was on the course daily during the holidays. I wasn’t able to play regularly thereafter but now that I am semi-retired my youthful skills are being resurrected and I can still hear their words of exhortation.

Perseverance is key

Next I recall a schoolmaster, John England, who watched me playing rugby when I was about 12 years old. As a gangly youngster I was placed in the second row of the rugby pack but was able to show a turn of speed if given space. Mr England advised me to stretch out a bit – and not give up – and suggested that with perseverance I’d confirm my first team place and gain ‘colours’ (a badge and special socks, as I recall). The very next match I remember scoring a try and, although we lost, his confident prediction was borne out. Moreover, the following term, commenting again positively on my running, he challenged me to win the school cross-country championship. Actually I came third but his belief in me ensured that at secondary school I continued cross-country running under the guidance of former Scottish Commonwealth Games runner, Fergus Murray. By then I was shortening much of my focus to middle-distance running and the highlight, aged 18 years, was to run a 400 metre race against senior opposition (including two international athletes) at Meadowbank Stadium in Edinburgh. I came last in the race but at least I had been encouraged to aspire!

Admonition can help, too!

It was at secondary school that I received another type of encouragement in my sports’ playing. This time, also aged 18 years, I was admonished by a Scottish rugby international (and later BBC commentator), Ian Robertson. It was during a 7-a-side practice when an opponent swept passed me. Instead of trying to chase him down I pulled up assuming there was no chance of catching him. Mr Robertson, our coach, ‘let me have it’ and I never forgot the importance thereafter of ‘keeping on going’ even if the odds appeared stacked against me. In fact this advice paid off handsomely that summer in the school Sports Day. My Housemaster, David McMurray – another fine sportsman who encouraged me in croquet, golf, hockey and athletics – had a quiet word with me towards the end of the Inter-House championship. Our House was lying second by a couple of points and we still had the final event to run: the 6 x 200 yards relay. I was on the final leg for my House. Mr McMurray pointed out that if I was to come in the top three then we would win overall. Despite the other final leg athletes being better sprinters, I somehow managed second place and the Cup was ours!

Throw off everything that hinders

It’s not for me to trot out more examples from my past of encouraging words and cajolements on the sports-field (and there are others who have made a great impression on me). Suffice it to say, that as the writer to the Hebrew has said, it’s vital than in all that we do – sporting or otherwise – to ‘throw off everything that hinders‘ and to run the race of life with perseverance. A kind word, a smile, an encouraging letter or card – even a carefully judged and appropriate criticism passed on in love – can make all the difference. Why not try it today and be an unsung hero?

Is every day, ‘Men’s Day’?

Tuesday this week was ‘International Men’s Day’. Nowadays there appears to be a special day for almost everyone and anything – in the same way, perhaps, that in days of yore Saints’ Days were established and promoted and, for some, holidays (or ‘holy days’) proclaimed. Not everyone approves of a ‘Men’s Day’. As Oliver Duff, Educator of i newspaper, has written: ‘I understand the criticisms of International men’s Day. Some people continue to be offended by the concept of arguing that it is the equivalent to holding a white history month, or that every day is men’s day’.

Baking your anxieties

Duff’s editorial (19/11/19 – almost a palindromic day) goes on to argue that perhaps it’s not such a crazy idea after all to put aside one day annually to consider the state of many men today owing to the high, and increasing, incidence of worryingly poor men’s mental health – and I agree. Michael Chakraverty, an unlikely star of this year’s ‘Bake Off’ tent on Channel 4, has done a great deal to champion the cause of men, our feelings, emotions and our state of mind. He underwent a panic attack on the show and has written movingly of his struggle with anxiety. Chakraverty describes himself as a ‘reluctant convert to International men’s Day’ as he had felt that men had more than enough focus and attention in our world. The aim of the day is to ‘make a difference for men and boys’ in the face of intense pressure to hide emotions and to ‘be a man’. One of the event’s founders, Jerome Teelucksingh, describes its purpose as an attempt to ‘remove the negative images and stigma associated with men‘. In the UK, suicide remains the most common cause of death for men aged between 20 and 49 years – and men are three times more likely to die by suicide than women. In the light of this, one day in 365 to focus on men’s mental health is worth the emphasis: it just might save a Father, a Husband, a Brother, a Son.

High pressure

I cannot say that I have ever contemplated suicide but I have struggled in recent years from intense stress which led me to seek medical help. I was extremely fortunate – blessed in fact – to be able to offload to a doctor who shares my Christian faith. He listened to the concerns I had in my highly-pressured job as a Headmaster, carried out some mental health tests and then prescribed some light medication to help me manage my workload and the expectations put upon me – and which I put upon myself. I had half expected my doctor to prescribe time off work but he didn’t: he sought to support me in a career which I loved, encouraged me to share where I was at with my family and close work colleagues, and then to manage better my time and commitments. His care, compassion and understanding – plus the medication and a wonderfully supportive wife and family – worked and I was able to carry on productively and positively. Only this month (and a year on from retiring as a Head) I have been able, after a period of transition, to come off the medication. (In my new role as General Secretary of TISCA, I hope I can be a more empathetic person as I work alongside Christian Heads, Chaplains, Staff and Governors.)

Movember for men

I am very aware of other men around me who have been less fortunate and for this reason I have been taking part in Movember for the past four years. My pathetic attempt at growing a moustache has raised a modest amount of money for the charity but, more than this, has reminded me (and others who have asked) that men are vulnerable and not the John Wayne / James Bond / Top Gun- type macho figure that is commonly expected. Michael Chakraverty cried on ‘Bake Off’ and was blown away by the number of positive responses online (helped by the ‘#realmencry’ hashtag). There were those who called him a ‘cry baby’ and worse but I wonder how many of us would say this of Eddie Jones, the England men’s rugby coach, who clearly expressed emotion on prime-time TV this week when asked about the impact of the Rugby World Cup on his family? Eddie’s no wimp – he appears to be a ‘man’s man’ – but he’s not afraid of showing raw emotion.

It’s just possible that having an International Men’s Day allows for taboos around the image of men to be discussed more openly – and for there to be a softening in expectations and an understanding that it’s OK to cry – and to seek help. For anyone reading this who is struggling with suicidal thoughts or with mental health in other ways, then do speak to someone – and, at the very least, the Samaritans on 116123.

Nil Satis, Nisi Optimum (nothing but the best is good enough)

The longest match of the season

I attended the longest Premier League football match of the season yesterday – some 104 minutes and 52 seconds. I’d like to say that it was one of the best sporting occasions (‘nothing but the best’) I’d witnessed in recent times and that the extra minutes gave real value for money – but sadly this was not the case. There were, however, bright moments to ponder and a sense that human dignity and respect transcends a game.

I rarely get the opportunity to attend a live football match and they always bring back memories of being lifted over the turnstiles by my Father at Love Street back in the 1960s, a time when youngsters could get into matches for free if they were light enough to be lifted over the barriers. Goodison Park, where I was yesterday, whilst immeasurably swankier that the old St Mirren FC ground at Love Street, Paisley, still exhibited the traditional trademarks: the heroes of bygone eras on the walls of the stadium; the raucous programme and scarf sellers (one bearing the names of the Everton ‘Holy Trinity’); the ‘pie and pint’ deal; the predominantly male crowd; the muffled loudspeaker announcements; the chants and songs…

The rituals of the stadium

I’m always struck that for some, if not all, the football stadium is the Temple, the Church, the place of fellowship and of worship. Yesterday was no different: we had a former Everton star paraded at half-time and applauded; a photo of a young fan, whose life had been cut short several years ago, on the large screen under the initials RIP and the reverential clapping timed to coincide with his age and the time of his death; the military servicemen and women laying wreaths ahead of Remembrance Day whilst the Last Post was sounded and the crowd fell silent; the ritual with the ball on the pedestal before the start of play. ‘Nothing but the best is good enough’ – and many of these rituals are indeed ‘the best’.

So much is so very good

And so much also is good – very good. There was the focal point outside the stadium where money and foodstuffs were being collected for the hungry. A local church was open to provide refreshment and offer solace. A handicapped child was wheeled onto the hallowed turf by one of the Everton players and given a place of honour in the handshakes before the match began. The ‘Everton Remembers’ banner was unfurled as we shared solemn moments remembering our War dead. And, perhaps most poignant of all, the respectful applause by the Spurs’ supporters – all on their feet – to honour Andrew Gomes of Everton FC who suffered a horrendous ankle break following a challenge by a Tottenham player. ‘Nothing but the best’ was indeed being exhibited in some of the behaviour around the ground even if the football on it, hardly enhanced by some baffling VAR moments (and hence, along with the injury, a cause of the lengthy game), meant that in leaving the ground the conversation was not about the quality of the match but about all that had marred it – and concern for the injured player.

A motto for life

Nil Satis, Nisi Optimum – surely an admirable motto for all of life? I hope that what’s most remembered from the unremarkable football yesterday is the obvious concern the Everton players had for their fallen comrade, the incredible distress displayed by the Spurs’ player whose harsh tackle had led to the injury and the unity, if only for a few moments, of the whole crowd in applauding the injured player off the field.

Email at your peril!

The email trail

This week I have been emailing several people to chase up responses to messages sent out in August. I was pleased to receive one automatic message: ‘I won’t be responding to emails this week as I am on holiday with my lovely family’. A great reply. (It is half-term for some teachers.) Another automated response reads: ‘I am on the half-term break but will reply as soon as I can’. Oh dear – a shame. And there was, ‘I am on my summer break and won’t manage to reply for some time’. Ho hum!

I gather it is Ray Tomlinson, a New York computer programmer in the 1970s, we have to blame for electronic communication. As Simon Kelner (The i Newspaper 23/10/19), reminds us: ‘The advent of email changed the rules of engagement for everyone and no-where has this been more consequential than in the workplace‘.

Avoid emails after 9.00 pm

When I was a Head, I tried not to email anyone after 9.00 pm – and certainly endeavoured to avoid the ‘ping’ of the email after that evening hour. Early on in my senior managing career I realised that to open a parental ‘wine o’clock’ email after I was home was likely to rob me of sleep: there was nothing I could do about the inevitable ‘complaint’ until the morning. (Besides, my wife quite rightly castigated me for checking my ‘phone after this hour and banned the device from the bedroom: very wise indeed.)

In the latter years of my Headship, I was impressed by hearing of one school which banned work emails after 6.00 pm and had a setting on the school system to ensure this was enforced. Moreover, I gather that in France it is actually illegal for companies with more than 50 employees to send emails after recognised working hours – and companies such as Lidyl and Volkswagen use software to intercept such ‘Exocet missiles’ aimed at workers during their leisure moments.

Recent research

This is all very well, but now I have heard of a body of research (from Sussex University) which suggests that prohibiting employees from checking their emails outside of normal working hours can actually harm their mental health! It seems that some people just must be ‘connected’ and feel in control of their communication channels.

Clearly, like so much in life, a balance needs to be achieved: strict policies in this area can, it appears, cause additional stress to some people. The younger worker today generally feels it’s natural to receive work emails outside of normal employment hours (and for teachers I defy anyone to classify ‘normal’ in term time). Ray Tomlinson has, in Keller’s words, ‘let the genie out of the bottle‘ and we cannot put it back no matter how hard we try. ‘The only guidance I give to work colleagues‘, Keller concludes, ‘is not to send a work email at a time you wouldn’t consider making a ‘phone call to deliver the same message‘. Wisdom indeed.

What makes you smile?

As we move into the Autumn and the nights start to draw in, the leaves turn and fall and the memories of the summer fade, what is it that cheers us up?

Flared trousers

It’s London Fashion Week from this Friday and, following a Onepoll survey of 1,000 Britons, it seems that 40% name the 1970s as their favourite decade to revisit with nearly a third of respondents hoping for the return of flares. This makes me smile! I had a pair of blue flared-trousers which became progressively lighter as they extended down to my feet (and I also had the long hair and flowery shirt to complement them)! I am not sure, however, I really want to revisit the decade of my teenage years.

Putting a smile on our faces

Another poll, this time undertaken by a holiday firm, Marella Cruises, has published a list of the top ten things which help put a smile on our faces. Right at the top is ‘a random act of kindness’. A few years ago, as the Year 11 leavers celebrated their final day in class in my school in Hampshire, they wrote personal, handwritten, notes to everyone in the two years below them – and also to every member of staff. The messages in the notes were wholly encouraging and remarked on the positive traits of their recipients. To round off these RAOKs, they managed to sneak into the staff common room the previous night and fill it with colourful balloons. This all made a lot of us smile!

Further ‘top ten’ smiles include sunshine, a holiday, good food and a funny joke. I’m not sure how well this one works on paper, but here goes: the cast of the ‘Magnificent Seven‘ were asked to do an aftershave advert at Anfield. Only six of them turned up. Yul never wore cologne…I’ll move on rapidly!

Two of my favourite ‘smilers’ in the ‘top ten’ are the unexpected: receiving a ‘thank you’ from a stranger and, receiving a smile from a stranger. These latter two cost nothing at all except, I suppose, overcoming the fear of embarrassment or possible rejection should these gestures be rebuffed. I suspect they very rarely are – so why not try one today? Just last week I received a handwritten letter from a former pupil of mine who was about to enter her final year in school in a position of some responsibility. It was a massive encouragement, and brought much joy, simply to receive such a personal note. I’m still smiling!

Smiling – for eternity

I was struck just this morning by two Bible verses which were put together in a ‘thought for today’. The first comes from that Old testament book of wisdom, Ecclesiastes: God has planted eternity in the hearts of man (Ecc.3:10 TLB). The second verse, from the New Testament and Paul’s first letter to the church in Corinth, is this: No one has ever imagined what God has prepared for those who love Him (1 Cor.2:9). These are smile-inducing, breathtaking, verses! In our most creative moments, in the heights of our happiness on earth, we learn that heaven (eternity) is beyond the imagining of those who love God. How good is that? Surely, worthy of a smile at least…

When words and numbers are inadequate

Mere numbers

I wonder if the following sequence of numbers will appear in a future sports’ quiz with the corresponding question being, what do these mean: 601000216000610120621466210000104410060004? Perhaps a clue will then be given, as follows: 74 off 42? 1 off 17? Any ideas? One last clue: 67 for 10 and then 362 for 9…

These numbers, as you may now have guessed, even if you are not a sport lover let alone a cricket fanatic, relate to England’s amazing / historic / unbelievable / superhuman (you choose the adjective) Ashes’ Test match victory over Australia at Headingley this past weekend. (The figures above, in order, relate to: firstly Ben Stokes’ ball by ball display after the ninth and penultimate English wicket had fallen; secondly, he scored 74 runs off the final 42 balls (having managed only 2 runs off 50 balls the previous day); thirdly, Stokes’ final partner at the crease, Jack Leach, scored only 1 run off 17 balls he faced; and, finally, England’s woeful 67 all out in their first innings and then their 362 for the loss of all but the final wicket in their second innings which saw them pull off probably the greatest sporting ‘Houdini’ trick in history.)

These heroics are all the more remarkable given how badly England had played in their first innings – their worst score in Test cricket for nearly 70 years. Understandably, they were being written off as ‘humiliated’, ‘inept’, ‘woeful’ (etc.) – until, that is, the extraordinary display by Ben Stokes and Jack Leach under a cloudless sky on the afternoon of Sunday, 25th August 2019.

Mere words

Clearly, I don’t need to add to the many wonderful summaries in the Press of this fine sporting achievement. I do, however, want to pick up on a few, wider, observations. Ben Stokes himself was lost for words when first interviewed after the match. His England team were elated but also appeared shell-shocked. I need not comment on how the Australians were feeling. The sports writers in the Press also seemed speechless but it didn’t take long for their craft to kick in. Kevin Garside in the iNewspaper, writes: This was not just England’s moment, or cricket’s. This was one for the whole world of sport to savour, demonstrating the capacity of an ostensibly trivial pastime to say something profound about humankind…Stokes gave expression to genius and might rightly be considered as accomplished in his field as Ludwig van Beethoven, Leonardo da Vinci or Vincent van Gogh were in theirs. Garside, and others of his ilk, then invoke the language of faith to try and sum up Ben Stokes’ exploits: not a mere mortal, a worker of miracles, someone who has achieved the impossible – the person who resurrected English cricket in its darkest hour. Mere words, indeed, are inadequate, even meaningless – as are the statistics.

My simplistic ‘take’ on all this is: Stokes couldn’t have achieved what he did without the rest of the team and especially Jack Leach (and to Stokes’ credit, he did so acknowledge this); the Test-match crowd at Headingley also played an incalculably important part in exhorting Stokes et al; this achievement was also made possible by Stokes’ hard work (apparently without match in the current England team) – as well as his skill, self-belief and never-say-die attitude; if was also made possible by Australia, the opponents, faltering and eventually falling short themselves.

The truly unique moment in history

And so, what do we ‘mere mortals’ learn: it’s good to utilise inherent strengths and skills – and often this is only possible with dogged hard work. It’s vital, also, to share a responsibility with a team, a family, colleagues, a church – and to give credit where it’s due. We need to embrace the difficult task – even welcome it – as a means of strengthening ourselves and learning humility when we have to pick ourselves up yet again. Ultimately, as a Christian, I should be aware of the cheers and encouragement of the ‘cloud of witnesses’, seek to throw off anything impeding me and push on to reach the goal of completeness in Christ Jesus (cf Hebrews 12:1-3). That is the true miracle based on the most amazing event in history – ever: the Resurrection. No words, no numbers, can sum up that singular, unique, ultimate event.

Retiring without retreating

I was interested to read in yesterday’s i Newspaper that more than a quarter of retired over 65s said they gave up their careers too soon – and a fifth were disappointed by their retirement. Very sadly, 33% of respondents said their ‘grand dreams’ for retirement had not come to fruition. (All part of a survey of 1,000 people conducted by the home care provider, Home Instead Senior Care.)

Social care survey

As someone who has ‘retired’ in my early 60s, there are some survey findings with which I can empathise: 25% said their day no longer had a routine – and I had ‘enjoyed’ (and now appreciate more than ever) a very regular school, term-time and holiday routine for 38 years; 45% of those polled said that what they missed most about their work was the time spent with colleagues – and it’s this I miss the most. I would also add to this the loss of opportunity seeing young people flourish, all part of my vocation as a Schoolmaster.

I am, of course, adjusting and there’s much I don’t miss – especially the stress of exam results at this time in the year and the inevitable pressure from those parents of the few pupils who have fallen short in their aspirations. Further pressure to maintain the pupil roll and to answer the angry (and often unrealistic ‘wine o’ clock) email are also features of school life that I don’t harp back to.

Keeping on working as long as you can

Interestingly, in another feature in yesterday’s Press we read of Nicholas Parsons who, aged 95, has missed only his second recording of BBC4’s ‘Just a minute’ in 50 years of broadcasting. If you ever listen to the programme, you can tell that this is someone who never wants to retire from his ‘day job’ – and good for him, too. (I should add that whilst my parents are in their 80s and 90s they still enjoy some regular paid employment – which they also enjoy!)

Doing nothing?

A further article, by Siobhan Norton in the i Newspaper, extolled the virtues of ‘fjaka’ – the Croatian art of doing nothing. This is the perfection of the art of siesta without sleeping – a sort of meditation, even lethargy, as one stares off into the middle distance; ‘look on and make no sound’. This writer realised that when on holiday it might be a blessing to go off-line, at least for a time, and so escape the tyranny of ‘just checking my device’ – again and again. But then, of course, this is not retirement but, perhaps, preparation for it.

A productive retirement

Whilst I find echoes in my own semi-retired situation of some of the traits mentioned above in the survey, I cannot say that I fully concur. As I have just noted, I am only semi-retired: I retired from schoolmastering (and headmastering) full-time last summer but since this April I have taken up a part-time post, using my school experience, to support Christian Heads, Chaplains and Teachers in the independent sector. I was fortunate to be able to plan to retire rather than have it thrust upon me owing to ill-health, dismissal or redundancy. I do still miss my old routines, the camaraderie of the staff room and the excitement of young people learning and gaining fresh insights. However, I have tried to ‘Retire without retreating’ (and can recommend a book of this title by Johnnie Godwin). Taking a sabbatical off paid work has helped and I am trying to ‘age with grace’ by keeping active through sport and gardening, spending time with family (aged from a few months to the mid-90s) and enjoying getting to know my wife all over again. These adjustments are rarely easy and are never fully mastered but I would urge everyone to plan early for a productive retirement – and that’s not just by paying into a pension scheme!

For such a time as this

I was privileged this past week to be a guest on United Christian Broadcasters’ UCB1 radio programme, Friday Round Up. This was an opportunity to comment on some of the week’s news items and to relate them, where appropriate, to my experience and also to the work of TISCA, The Independent Schools Christian Alliance (of which I am General Secretary).

Radio broadcast

Vicky Gibbens was the Presenter of the programme and we were able to comment on news items ranging from public exam league tables to Wayne Rooney and gambling’s sponsorship of sport, from the full bursary offered to a young Ugandan boy, Julius, to Greta Thunberg and climate change activism, from re-usable coffee cups to a smartphone app for parents to track their children. I enjoyed the ‘banter’, the opportunity to talk about TCKs (third culture kids) and also the chance to say something of TISCA’s work in reaching out in fellowship to Christian Heads, Chaplains, Teachers and Support Staff. One thing in particular, however, stood out for me.

Word for Today

My wife and I have been supporters of UCB since the 1990s. We have made use of their superb daily devotion, Word for Today, since that time when we were teaching at Glenalmond College in Scotland and then at Dean Close School, Cheltenham. It was in the late 1990s, whilst a Deputy Head at Dean Close and applying for Headships, that a UCB devotion spoke to us as a family, and not for the first time. I had applied for several posts, and been interviewed a number of times, but without being appointed as a Head. A friend of ours (who was to become the General Secretary of TISCA) directed me to an advert for Hebron School, Ooty, in south India. This friend wondered if I’d be interested in teaching and serving overseas. As someone who had been brought up in Africa, I warmed to the idea and was somewhat surprised that my mono-cultural wife was even interested!

I duly applied to be Principal of Hebron School in India but heard nothing for many weeks. On the same day, but separately, my wife (Rosalyn) and eldest daughter (Alix) were struck by the Bible passage for consideration in Word for Today that day: Humble yourselves, then, under God’s mighty hand, so that he will lift you up in his own good time 1 Peter 5:6 GNT. Rosalyn and Alix came to me and said that they believed this was God’s word for me at that time. Very shortly afterwards, Hebron got in touch and the process began for our move to India in 2000.

God’s own good time

I believe that this was indeed God’s ‘own good time’ for us. More than that, however, it was soon to be UCB’s time, too. We traveled to India with a UCB cassette tape which had been produced as part of the radio station’s drive to gain a license to broadcast freely in the UK. The song on the cassette tape spoke to us as well as to UCB (which received its analogue license a little later): ‘For such a time as this‘ (a text from the Book of Esther), sung by Wayne Watson. The chorus in the song runs as follows –

For such a time as this

I was placed upon the earth

To hear the voice of God

And do His will

Whatever it is

Several times in my life I have reflected on this. We can desire something with all of our hearts – we can even pray for it to be God’s will for us – but it’s only in His time that we are equipped, and remaining reliant on His strength, launched into new beginnings of His choosing. What is it you desire at present? Take heart from a concluding verse in the song:

Can’t change what’s happened till now

But we can change what will be

By living in holiness

That the world will see Jesus

‘The past is for reference and not for residence’

I have just returned from an exhausting but exhilarating week with nineteen teenagers as part of a Rekonnect Camp run by a Christian organisation called Global Connections. I first started helping three years ago and have found it to be as much a help for myself as it is for youngsters today.

TCKs

Kriss Akabusi, the Olympic athlete, made the statement above and this resonates with me. I was born in Nigeria, brought up in Ghana and educated in Scotland at boarding school. In recent years I have come to call myself a TCK – a Third Culture Kid – and this has helped to add further meaning to my early years. As an historian I can also relate to Akabusi’s statement: we need to understand the past, even enjoy its study, and to learn from it where applicable – but we mustn’t live in the past.

Hidden immigrants

At my first official ‘date’ in 1976 with the lovely lady who became my wife, I wore a long, flowing, Nigerian robe. It says a great deal for my wife that she wasn’t immediately put off. It could so easily have been our first and last ‘date’! Without being able to express or articulate it then, here I was aged 19 years trying to ‘say’ that I have a past that was significant and worthy which helped to define who I was. To be more technical, I was (in the words of the Pol Van identity model) a ‘hidden immigrant’: I looked like I was white Caucasian British (apart from when I was wearing my Nigerian robes!) but inside I thought differently.

Many of the teenagers with whom I have lived alongside this past week are also ‘hidden immigrants’. To look at they seem wholly British: they have a British passport and speak perfect English. However, look more closely and you see the African and Asian bangles; listen more acutely and you can identify traces of the Hindi / Swahili / Mandarin / Thai / Japanese which they grew up speaking; ponder on their stories and you start to realise that they are actually global citizens – complex but genuine, needy and yet so able to give and to serve wholeheartedly.

Listening

Let’s not be so quick to judge from the outside – to see someone’s skin tone, hear their intonation and observe their ‘strange’ habits. Take time to listen and to learn, to understand and so to appreciate. Our society too readily rushes to separate and divide. The life experience of the TCK should help us to embrace and celebrate differences, not to dwell in the past but to acknowledge its impact and so to draw the best from it for the future.