When I was in primary 1, my first report card said that I was a “chatterbox”. In primary 2, I got the same report. Same again in primary 3 and primary 4. In fact, it seems that I spent a lot of my life chattering away. Remind you of anyone?
Dave was one of those people who truly had “the gift of the
gab”. He’d prefer to say he could talk the hind legs off a donkey. He had a way
with words that I loved and respected and he thoroughly enjoyed telling puns.
He was a storyteller if ever there was one, telling bedtime stories to his
grandkids that would have lasted until morning if their mother had let him.
But he also used that gift of words to witness to what God
had done in his life and never missed an opportunity to share his faith. I
remember once how he excitedly told me how he’d talked to the couple sat
opposite him on the train ALL the way from London to Edinburgh, distributing
the Christian literature that he always seemed to have with him in a backpack
or caddy.
Those backpacks were like Mary Poppins’ bag from the film – bottomless and
full of goodies – books, fizzy drinks, sweeties, chocolates, biscuits, and
always wine gums and Bassett’s Licorice Allsorts. Something for everyone, and
usually everyone got something.
As much as he loved talking, he also loved singing meaningful words.
He was a huge fan of music (but only when it was played through a quality sound
system, of which he had many) and sang with Christian choirs throughout his
life, which brought him a lot of joy.
He was a curious person with an enormous thirst for knowledge
and desire to impart it. He could never find out enough on any subject but also
wanted to learn what you thought about it. He spent a lot of his time at the
library and there were few subjects that he couldn’t talk at length on.
So he could talk the talk. But he also walked the walk.
Literally. How many people do you know would regularly choose to walk from
Fallin to Stirling and back? In all weather? Even when they know the local bus
timetable off by heart?!
He loved that walk through fields, with the Castle ahead and
the hills to the side. I’ve travelled that road many times over the past week,
and the view is always slightly different depending on light or weather. I get
why he loved it, although I still wouldn’t walk it myself mind, but I know that
he would lift his eyes up to our local hills and marvel at the beauty of God’s
creation.
He also did something about it – becoming involved in climate
change, international justice and poverty issues, and green energy. He
contributed to national wildlife surveys by counting butterflies and squirrels
in his local area for a number of years.
When we were kids, he loved taking us out for walks and epic
cycle rides, starting over the back of the fence at Queen Victoria School and
then heading through forests, over hills, past reservoirs and generally miles
from home. We even unofficially named the places we walked through like Echo
Lake, Silent Wood and Secret Beach - areas I still wouldn’t be able to find on
a map now.
He photographed so much of what he saw. Some of my earliest
memories are of him behind the camera. As I got older it sometimes became
annoying to pose mid-meal for a photo, but now I am grateful for these mementos
of our time together.
He talked the talk and he walked the walk, but he would be
the first to tell you that he wasn’t doing so alone. He came into contact with
all sorts of people and popped up in all sorts of unlikely places. But wherever
he went, he left a mark. Just this week even people on his local bus route were
asking after him as he’d started to use the bus more often as his health
declined.
On behalf of the whole family, we want to thank all those who
walked that journey with Dave, who enabled him to do all the things that he
enjoyed, encouraged him on his Christian walk, and cared for him in so many
ways. Thank you to all of you who have made it here today, especially from far
away, and who may not be in good health yourselves. Thank you to those who
couldn’t make it but who posted messages of support via facebook and through
personal messages. Thank you especially to the nursing staff who looked after
him in hospital, people who visited or prayed for him from around the world,
the GP in Fallin who showed exceptional service, and to the fine work of the
Strathcarron Hospice staff who made him – and us his family - as comfortable as
possible in his final week. And thank you to the members of Stirling Baptist
Church who loved him so dearly, and who made this service of commemoration and
thanksgiving possible.
Ultimately, Dave knew that he was not walking alone because
he knew that God was with him. Death is something we will all face, but it’s
only scary if we believe that this is all there is. For Christians, death is
but the first breath the spirit takes as it enters Life. This is our hope and
this is our comfort.
In another sense, Dave lives on, through the relationships,
values and insights he gave each of us and that we pass on to others. If I,
like my siblings, am ever a talker, ever have a way with words, ever love
nature, am ever determined to be a good friend, to be wise, to be curious, to
love music, travel and share my faith, then it comes in part from him. Cancer
cannot take that from us. In the words of Philip Yancey, a well-known Christian
author:
Cancer cannot cripple love, shatter hope, corrode
faith, eat away peace, destroy confidence, kill friendship, shut out memories,
silence courage, quench the spirit or lessen the power of Jesus.
The name David means ‘Beloved”. He was loved. He will be
missed. But we believe that we will see him again. This is by no means the end.
It’s a new beginning.
