the eulogies of catriona, iain and ruth
Anne and Murdoch's three children spoke at the Celebration and Thanksgiving for the Life of Anne MacKenzie.
Ruth went out to India still in her Silver Cross pram; Catriona and Iain were born there and Murdoch became Minister of the early 19th century St Andrew's Kirk in the city of Madras, now Chennai. After 12 years, all three children accompanied their parents on their amazing return journey to Scotland, which was overland and entirely by public transport. The bus taking them into Afghanistan broke down in the Khyber Pass and was sold to a passing tribesman - leaving the family by the side of the road.
Parents and children each wrote their own account of that journey, published on this website:
http://www.murdochmackenzieofargyll.com/madras-to-edinburgh.html
and
http://www.murdochmackenzieofargyll.com/childrens-journey-to-the-uk.html
Now leading their own adult lives, in their Eulogies the three children give a deep insight into what it was to have Murdoch and Anne as parents, as well as paying their own tributes to their parents for lives well lived.
catriona's eulogy
Born in Liverpool in June 1938, Mum was just over a year old when the Second World War began. Evacuated for only a short time, it is likely with bombs raining down on Liverpool, that she had to learn to be brave very early in life. She finished school a year ahead of her age group, was a Queen’s Guide and studied medicine at Liverpool University, followed by Tropical Medicine at Edinburgh, where she was the only woman on the course, and came first in her year. Working in Liverpool as a young doctor, she once told me about delivering a baby above a Chinese launderette with the whole family present including two siblings under 3. She loved those days. Early footage of her in the 1950s only recently accessible to us children, portrays a confident, fun-loving young woman at the very heart of a tight knit extended family. When I think back over her life it is her courage in embracing its many different chapters that really stands out.
It was in Birkenhead, just across the Mersey from Liverpool that she met my father, Murdoch, a Scot and the love of her life. She recently told me that she had never lived alone until he died, and we were aware of the chasm he left behind even though she rarely spoke of it. As young people, together, as part of the Livingstone Fellowship, they chose a very different life to the one they grew up in planning to go into the mission field.
It was on the day Kennedy was assassinated that Dad asked his future father-in-law for Mum’s hand in marriage in the Old Waverley Hotel on Princes Street in Edinburgh. The soundscape to this was the newspaper boys hailing the death of a president. A wedding in 1964 in Prenton Congregational Church, was followed by a brief stay in Scotland, where she worked at the Elsie Inglis Hospital until the arrival of my elder sister, Ruth in December 1965.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I have always been aware of how courageous and faithful she was, and this is evident in her choice to travel to India in 1966, when the world was not as connected as it is today. When she disembarked from the comfort of the ship (a world she no doubt knew well as her Dad was chief engineer of the Anchor Line) to the chaos and pandemonium of the Bombay docks in the full force of India's monsoon with her young baby - my elder sister Ruth - and her silver cross pram almost floated away, she must have paused; but being Mum put one foot in front of the other and carried on. The trauma of this moment is perhaps evident in her detailed memory of the events of that night, down to the ants, carrying orange peel up the wall of the guest room in which they were staying, and the rain hammering on the corrugated iron roof.
Later she took cod liver oil to hasten my birth as my paternal grandfather lay dying of emphysema on the other side of the world, having been gassed in the war. And once I was born, and my father returned to Scotland, she bravely navigated those first few days of my life alone, with her precious elder daughter in the care of people who at the time she could not have known very well. But as is evident today, Mum had a habit of making friends, and this was no different in Madras, now Chennai, and it is these friendships, alongside family and the church which sustained her in difficult times. The guest room in our home was in regular use, as was the dining room table. Even when Dad arrived with strangers unexpectedly met on the train, she welcomed them in.
A third child Iain, also born in India completed our family. Alongside looking after us she did voluntary medical work in the two ex-mission hospitals, in an Oxfam Project with fishermen and their families, with the Slum Clearance Board and for the Diocese of Madras. Leaving India, a country as a family we all deeply love, to return to the UK in 1978 for the sake of her children’s education, was another brave choice. Brave too, the manner in which they travelled, overland with three children aged 8, 10 and 12 through Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, Greece, Italy and France, an adventure for us children, but countries in which even then there were many uncertainties, although it was in Paris where we had our most difficult encounter with violence resulting from a stranger’s mental ill-health.
Settling us into life in the UK cannot have been easy for Mum. We children struggled to adapt to the damp, grey cold of Glenrothes and a completely unfamiliar life. There followed a move to Runcorn to an ecumenical situation, closer to her parents who were becoming frail, and then later to Birmingham and Milton Keynes. In each of these different spaces Mum gave of her time and energy, making friends along the way. In Birmingham she was involved in a drop-in centre for homeless people and in Milton Keynes in MacIntyre Care.
Retirement saw my parents move to Connel, Argyll, a fulfilment of Mum’s desire to live by the sea. Together they had 10 happy years, involving themselves in church and community, with Mum singing in the Oban Bach Choir and getting involved in Oban’s emergence as a fair-trade town and more time with their grandchildren, Hana and Benjo. As Dad became frailer, they moved to Edinburgh, close to Ruth and me, and more accessible to Iain. Here they celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary. As ever, Mum entered fully into church and community with involvement in the Pastoral Team at Augustine United Church, the mental health drop-in, the City Singers, Fresh Start and the Dementia Singing Group and these are the connections that she grew, and which sustained her after Dad died.
Any reflection on Mum’s life would be incomplete without mentioning her love of gardening, birds, and all things wild. Mum was passionate about many things, but it was perhaps the garden which gave her the most pleasure. Everywhere she lived she left a portion of herself behind in a beautiful and well-tended garden. In Birmingham she was instrumental in establishing a community garden in the local folly. I have inherited this love of green things and the outdoors, and of creatures great and small as has her grandson Benjo, perhaps one of the most important parts of our generic inheritance. Her interest in plants extended to all things environmental. She prioritised caring for this wonderful earth every day in many small but significant ways. Not so long ago when she was already ill, and a little slower than she was used to being, she got very cross with me on route to the Botanic Gardens when I went to press the button at the pedestrian crossing, stating very simply that every time a car stops and starts emissions increase. Her last gift to me was a packet of environmentally friendly ‘cheeky panda’ tissues to take on my holidays.
Finally, never have I been more aware of my mother’s unyielding courage and determination as in the months since February this year. With a terminal diagnosis she chose to bravely live each day, making plans, living life as fully as she was able and only a week before she died attending our Aunty Irene’s funeral. Through living these months as she did, she gave us a final gift, teaching us how to die. Returning to her flat after this most important of funerals, we spoke about the importance of celebrating life and that is what she would wish us to do today.
Even at that late stage, she was determined that we, and she carried on, stubbornly insisting her 3 children should not change their travel plans and that we would see her when we got back. We probably should have known better and overridden her, but none of us did. Yet this provided space for her grandchildren Hana and Benjo to share precious and possibly life changing time with her as they cared for her in the days following our obedient departure; a difficult gift but an important one as for a short time they became central to sustaining her. For all of us in her family having you alongside us in these last few days has sustained us, helping to lessen the Mum shaped hole in our lives. We are grateful for all the many memories you have shared which even though she is no longer with us have deepened our understanding of all that she was, and all that she meant, and for that I say thank you.
Catriona MacKenzie
It was in Birkenhead, just across the Mersey from Liverpool that she met my father, Murdoch, a Scot and the love of her life. She recently told me that she had never lived alone until he died, and we were aware of the chasm he left behind even though she rarely spoke of it. As young people, together, as part of the Livingstone Fellowship, they chose a very different life to the one they grew up in planning to go into the mission field.
It was on the day Kennedy was assassinated that Dad asked his future father-in-law for Mum’s hand in marriage in the Old Waverley Hotel on Princes Street in Edinburgh. The soundscape to this was the newspaper boys hailing the death of a president. A wedding in 1964 in Prenton Congregational Church, was followed by a brief stay in Scotland, where she worked at the Elsie Inglis Hospital until the arrival of my elder sister, Ruth in December 1965.
Somewhere in the back of my mind, I have always been aware of how courageous and faithful she was, and this is evident in her choice to travel to India in 1966, when the world was not as connected as it is today. When she disembarked from the comfort of the ship (a world she no doubt knew well as her Dad was chief engineer of the Anchor Line) to the chaos and pandemonium of the Bombay docks in the full force of India's monsoon with her young baby - my elder sister Ruth - and her silver cross pram almost floated away, she must have paused; but being Mum put one foot in front of the other and carried on. The trauma of this moment is perhaps evident in her detailed memory of the events of that night, down to the ants, carrying orange peel up the wall of the guest room in which they were staying, and the rain hammering on the corrugated iron roof.
Later she took cod liver oil to hasten my birth as my paternal grandfather lay dying of emphysema on the other side of the world, having been gassed in the war. And once I was born, and my father returned to Scotland, she bravely navigated those first few days of my life alone, with her precious elder daughter in the care of people who at the time she could not have known very well. But as is evident today, Mum had a habit of making friends, and this was no different in Madras, now Chennai, and it is these friendships, alongside family and the church which sustained her in difficult times. The guest room in our home was in regular use, as was the dining room table. Even when Dad arrived with strangers unexpectedly met on the train, she welcomed them in.
A third child Iain, also born in India completed our family. Alongside looking after us she did voluntary medical work in the two ex-mission hospitals, in an Oxfam Project with fishermen and their families, with the Slum Clearance Board and for the Diocese of Madras. Leaving India, a country as a family we all deeply love, to return to the UK in 1978 for the sake of her children’s education, was another brave choice. Brave too, the manner in which they travelled, overland with three children aged 8, 10 and 12 through Pakistan, Afghanistan, Iran, Turkey, Greece, Italy and France, an adventure for us children, but countries in which even then there were many uncertainties, although it was in Paris where we had our most difficult encounter with violence resulting from a stranger’s mental ill-health.
Settling us into life in the UK cannot have been easy for Mum. We children struggled to adapt to the damp, grey cold of Glenrothes and a completely unfamiliar life. There followed a move to Runcorn to an ecumenical situation, closer to her parents who were becoming frail, and then later to Birmingham and Milton Keynes. In each of these different spaces Mum gave of her time and energy, making friends along the way. In Birmingham she was involved in a drop-in centre for homeless people and in Milton Keynes in MacIntyre Care.
Retirement saw my parents move to Connel, Argyll, a fulfilment of Mum’s desire to live by the sea. Together they had 10 happy years, involving themselves in church and community, with Mum singing in the Oban Bach Choir and getting involved in Oban’s emergence as a fair-trade town and more time with their grandchildren, Hana and Benjo. As Dad became frailer, they moved to Edinburgh, close to Ruth and me, and more accessible to Iain. Here they celebrated their 50th Wedding Anniversary. As ever, Mum entered fully into church and community with involvement in the Pastoral Team at Augustine United Church, the mental health drop-in, the City Singers, Fresh Start and the Dementia Singing Group and these are the connections that she grew, and which sustained her after Dad died.
Any reflection on Mum’s life would be incomplete without mentioning her love of gardening, birds, and all things wild. Mum was passionate about many things, but it was perhaps the garden which gave her the most pleasure. Everywhere she lived she left a portion of herself behind in a beautiful and well-tended garden. In Birmingham she was instrumental in establishing a community garden in the local folly. I have inherited this love of green things and the outdoors, and of creatures great and small as has her grandson Benjo, perhaps one of the most important parts of our generic inheritance. Her interest in plants extended to all things environmental. She prioritised caring for this wonderful earth every day in many small but significant ways. Not so long ago when she was already ill, and a little slower than she was used to being, she got very cross with me on route to the Botanic Gardens when I went to press the button at the pedestrian crossing, stating very simply that every time a car stops and starts emissions increase. Her last gift to me was a packet of environmentally friendly ‘cheeky panda’ tissues to take on my holidays.
Finally, never have I been more aware of my mother’s unyielding courage and determination as in the months since February this year. With a terminal diagnosis she chose to bravely live each day, making plans, living life as fully as she was able and only a week before she died attending our Aunty Irene’s funeral. Through living these months as she did, she gave us a final gift, teaching us how to die. Returning to her flat after this most important of funerals, we spoke about the importance of celebrating life and that is what she would wish us to do today.
Even at that late stage, she was determined that we, and she carried on, stubbornly insisting her 3 children should not change their travel plans and that we would see her when we got back. We probably should have known better and overridden her, but none of us did. Yet this provided space for her grandchildren Hana and Benjo to share precious and possibly life changing time with her as they cared for her in the days following our obedient departure; a difficult gift but an important one as for a short time they became central to sustaining her. For all of us in her family having you alongside us in these last few days has sustained us, helping to lessen the Mum shaped hole in our lives. We are grateful for all the many memories you have shared which even though she is no longer with us have deepened our understanding of all that she was, and all that she meant, and for that I say thank you.
Catriona MacKenzie
iain's eulogy
Thank you all for being here today to give thanks for the life of dear Mum. Mum lived a deeply fulfilling and wonderfully active life, and so there is much to be thankful for.
Anne Freda Capey MacKenzie. Mum’s middle name, Freda, came from her father, Fred, who worked his way through night school to become a marine engineer and eventually managing director of his company. Growing up during the war as Mum did, perhaps bonded families and communities even closer together than normal, and I think it is true to say Mum had a very happy childhood, with her dear sister Jean and her Mum and Dad, first in Liverpool and then, from age 13, across the Mersey in Birkenhead.
From her father Fred, and no doubt from her mum too, she inherited her fine technical and scientifically gifted mind. She was, you might say, a smart cookie, although of course this is the last thing Mum would ever have said about herself. A year ahead of her class at school, winning the Proxime Accessit Prize in medicine at Liverpool University, and awarded the Greig Medal after coming top of her year in Tropical Medicine at Edinburgh.
When Mum and Dad set out on their biggest adventure of all, setting sail to India in 1966, their first stop was language school in Bangalore. And once again Mum excelled in the exams there, gaining distinctions. Dad did not quite reach the same heights, and our family joke was that he had spent most of his time on the tennis courts outside their room. This was probably true, but also true was that Mum would have been hard to beat at exams whatever the circumstances. I remember my dear Uncle Kenneth once took the time to specifically impress upon me how gifted and able Mum was as a medic; and no doubt had she devoted herself fully to it, she could have had a very distinguished medical career indeed.
But Mum and Dad were inspired by a broader vision for what they could achieve in their lives, by devoting themselves to serve the Church in Christian mission, sharing the Good News of the Christian gospel. As teenagers at Prenton Congregational Church in Birkenhead, and through many London Missionary Society gatherings at Swanwick in Derbyshire, they heard the stories of, and were inspired by, figures such as Gladys Aylward in China, Albert Schweitzer in Africa, and indeed Eric Liddell. And by the young age of 16 they had already set their minds towards fully preparing themselves for that path. And this choice to devote their lives in this way, yielded a rich harvest indeed.
Through their lifelong faith and service they supported and encouraged an extraordinary number of people across many congregations and communities in India, across the UK and beyond. And it also brought them personally the rich blessing of a large number of deep and enriching friendships with people from around the UK and the world. Quite a number of dear friends are here with us today, and many others are with us online, from points around the globe, and particularly in Chennai.
Throughout their lives, a steady stream of friends made the pilgrimage to visit Mum and Dad’s home, whenever they were nearby — and often even if they were just briefly in the country. And Mum welcomed them all with gracious, warm and generous hospitality, making countless delicious meals and homemade fare, seemingly effortless but really a lot of hard work and good planning. And her ready laugh would ring out at some amusing anecdote or other, and she delighted in hearing the news of her visitors and spending time with them.
And through all their postings, Mum was a superb support for Dad in their shared mission, while at the same time raising three children — and the latter, from personal knowledge, I can confirm was not always an easy task. Alongside this full life, Mum took on other roles whenever she could, sometimes drawing on her medical training — such as running clinics for Oxfam and a slum clearance programme in Madras, and later serving as Convener of Madras Diocesan Medical Board. She took on many leadership roles particularly in women’s groups, founding the Women’s Fellowship in Madras, running the Girls’ Brigade in Runcorn, and as an officer in the Girl Guides earlier in life. And whatever Mum took on, she did well and very thoroughly, as I am sure those of you from Augustine United Church — where she found such a happy home in recent years — can attest.
As Catriona mentioned, another whole side of Mum’s life was that she created beautiful gardens wherever she went, and a blessing of retirement in Connel was that she could finally have a settled garden. [In Birmingham, they had a small yard which she beautified. But Mum also found a nearby listed building, Perrott’s Folly, and gained permission from the charity running it to create a small garden in the grounds — a beautiful space that then benefited the local area and enhanced the experience of visitors.]
In many ways, the allegory of a good and constant gardener also very aptly captures how Mum cared for people who crossed her path. She was always gently nurturing, wanting to see people thrive, and blossom, and supporting them with TLC and a good dose of practical help where needed. Her heart was always moved by those she saw as particularly vulnerable, and she would immediately go out of her way to help them. In recent years, she got great pleasure from working at Fresh Start, and the Dementia Singing Group; and yet again through these, she made a whole series of new friends.
To conclude, Mum truly made full use of every moment of her life. It began with a very happy childhood and continued with the deep blessing of a loving marriage to Dad. Together with him, and aLer his death, Mum strove every day to put some good back into the world, and make it a better place, never cynical, and all rooted in her firm Christian faith. We will miss Mum terribly every day, but we can also look back on so many happy times because of her. We are deeply grateful for everything she has given us; and we can try to follow her wise and kind example of how to live a good life, at which I think she truly succeeded.
Iain MacKenzie
Anne Freda Capey MacKenzie. Mum’s middle name, Freda, came from her father, Fred, who worked his way through night school to become a marine engineer and eventually managing director of his company. Growing up during the war as Mum did, perhaps bonded families and communities even closer together than normal, and I think it is true to say Mum had a very happy childhood, with her dear sister Jean and her Mum and Dad, first in Liverpool and then, from age 13, across the Mersey in Birkenhead.
From her father Fred, and no doubt from her mum too, she inherited her fine technical and scientifically gifted mind. She was, you might say, a smart cookie, although of course this is the last thing Mum would ever have said about herself. A year ahead of her class at school, winning the Proxime Accessit Prize in medicine at Liverpool University, and awarded the Greig Medal after coming top of her year in Tropical Medicine at Edinburgh.
When Mum and Dad set out on their biggest adventure of all, setting sail to India in 1966, their first stop was language school in Bangalore. And once again Mum excelled in the exams there, gaining distinctions. Dad did not quite reach the same heights, and our family joke was that he had spent most of his time on the tennis courts outside their room. This was probably true, but also true was that Mum would have been hard to beat at exams whatever the circumstances. I remember my dear Uncle Kenneth once took the time to specifically impress upon me how gifted and able Mum was as a medic; and no doubt had she devoted herself fully to it, she could have had a very distinguished medical career indeed.
But Mum and Dad were inspired by a broader vision for what they could achieve in their lives, by devoting themselves to serve the Church in Christian mission, sharing the Good News of the Christian gospel. As teenagers at Prenton Congregational Church in Birkenhead, and through many London Missionary Society gatherings at Swanwick in Derbyshire, they heard the stories of, and were inspired by, figures such as Gladys Aylward in China, Albert Schweitzer in Africa, and indeed Eric Liddell. And by the young age of 16 they had already set their minds towards fully preparing themselves for that path. And this choice to devote their lives in this way, yielded a rich harvest indeed.
Through their lifelong faith and service they supported and encouraged an extraordinary number of people across many congregations and communities in India, across the UK and beyond. And it also brought them personally the rich blessing of a large number of deep and enriching friendships with people from around the UK and the world. Quite a number of dear friends are here with us today, and many others are with us online, from points around the globe, and particularly in Chennai.
Throughout their lives, a steady stream of friends made the pilgrimage to visit Mum and Dad’s home, whenever they were nearby — and often even if they were just briefly in the country. And Mum welcomed them all with gracious, warm and generous hospitality, making countless delicious meals and homemade fare, seemingly effortless but really a lot of hard work and good planning. And her ready laugh would ring out at some amusing anecdote or other, and she delighted in hearing the news of her visitors and spending time with them.
And through all their postings, Mum was a superb support for Dad in their shared mission, while at the same time raising three children — and the latter, from personal knowledge, I can confirm was not always an easy task. Alongside this full life, Mum took on other roles whenever she could, sometimes drawing on her medical training — such as running clinics for Oxfam and a slum clearance programme in Madras, and later serving as Convener of Madras Diocesan Medical Board. She took on many leadership roles particularly in women’s groups, founding the Women’s Fellowship in Madras, running the Girls’ Brigade in Runcorn, and as an officer in the Girl Guides earlier in life. And whatever Mum took on, she did well and very thoroughly, as I am sure those of you from Augustine United Church — where she found such a happy home in recent years — can attest.
As Catriona mentioned, another whole side of Mum’s life was that she created beautiful gardens wherever she went, and a blessing of retirement in Connel was that she could finally have a settled garden. [In Birmingham, they had a small yard which she beautified. But Mum also found a nearby listed building, Perrott’s Folly, and gained permission from the charity running it to create a small garden in the grounds — a beautiful space that then benefited the local area and enhanced the experience of visitors.]
In many ways, the allegory of a good and constant gardener also very aptly captures how Mum cared for people who crossed her path. She was always gently nurturing, wanting to see people thrive, and blossom, and supporting them with TLC and a good dose of practical help where needed. Her heart was always moved by those she saw as particularly vulnerable, and she would immediately go out of her way to help them. In recent years, she got great pleasure from working at Fresh Start, and the Dementia Singing Group; and yet again through these, she made a whole series of new friends.
To conclude, Mum truly made full use of every moment of her life. It began with a very happy childhood and continued with the deep blessing of a loving marriage to Dad. Together with him, and aLer his death, Mum strove every day to put some good back into the world, and make it a better place, never cynical, and all rooted in her firm Christian faith. We will miss Mum terribly every day, but we can also look back on so many happy times because of her. We are deeply grateful for everything she has given us; and we can try to follow her wise and kind example of how to live a good life, at which I think she truly succeeded.
Iain MacKenzie
ruth's eulogy
As Catriona and Iain have already said, we are very grateful to have you all with us here today to celebrate and give thanks for our joyful Mum. As we know she lived an inspiring and very full life, one that is definitely worth celebrating. Catriona, Iain and I - and all the family - are very grateful for the many moving messages and thoughtful sympathy cards we have received, bringing us so many insights and memories of the lives of our parents, Anne and Murdoch. A favourite Bible verse of Mum and Dad’s was: John Ch.3: v.8 “The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither it goes; so it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit”.
Winds change things. They have an effect. They make a difference. Mum made a difference to the lives of so many. Often in a very quiet and unassuming way. More often like a gentle cooling breeze, rather than a rushing mighty wind. When I think of Mum, three words immediately come to mind: Faith, Hope and Love:
FAITH Mum’s was a life well-lived which entirely reflected her strong, quiet and gentle faith. She began and ended each day with Bible readings, and prayers for family and friends, for those in need and for troubled places near and far.
She showed her ‘faith in action’ in so many ways, including through her commitment to the environment, global peace and justice, fair trade and in her many church activities, both in Edinburgh and in all the places where she lived. Here, amongst her AUC family, Mum loved participating fully in the worship, mission and life of the congregation. She was a compassionate and committed volunteer with the charity Fresh Start, as well as with the North West Edinburgh Singing with Dementia Group, where she had many special friends. While in Connel with Dad, regular activities included the Mary’s Meals Craft Group, as well as the Tuesday Summer Lunches Team. During her recent illness, Mum’s unwavering faith, resilience and determination helped her bravely face new difficulties, as she continued with her activities.
HOPE Mum always encouraged us to count our blessings and to look for the good in everybody and everything. She was full of energy, hope and positivity; she was an inspiration to me, showing by example how to live a good life and encouraging me to keep hopeful through some challenging times of my own. One of the sympathy messages we received, said that: ‘Anne was visible proof that the world can be a good and beautiful place’. I think we would all agree with that….
Mum remained optimistic, even in times of difficulty for herself, for her family or for the wider community and world; RARELY did I hear her complain; she made light of her recent illness and faced each day so brightly, bringing happiness and hope to everyone, right up until her last few days. She was always such wonderful company.
In my mind I often picture and hear her singing ‘All things bright and beautiful’, or ‘Oh what a beautiful morning’, as she worked away in her homely kitchen, perhaps while listening out for a blackbird’s song. Singing was one of her great passions: she was in the choir in St Andrew’s Kirk, Chennai; in Milton Keynes she belonged to the Milton Keynes Chorale; in Connel she enjoyed being a member of the Oban Bach Choir and she loved being part of the Edinburgh City Singers.
As most of you will know, Mum delighted in offering hospitality to anyone and everyone, from all walks of life. Each of her many homes, whether in India, England, Scotland, or briefly at Bossey in Switzerland, were always welcoming, comforting and inspiring; she took great pleasure in providing home-baking such as shortbread or coffee cake, or delicious Indian meals, when she hosted friends and family including her Iona Family Group. Catriona, Iain and I are blessed with happy memories of some of our childhood days spent at school on Iona.
LOVE Through all the changing scenes of life, Mum’s love for each member of the family was unfailingly unconditional. It was the gentle but strong glue which held us all together. She had a kind listening ear, gave wise advice and made the world a better place by her loving actions. She was interested in our lives, and in the world at large; she was happy to share laughter and she was always a kind and caring neighbour.
She loved nature, especially birds and flowers, and I will forever be grateful to her for nurturing and encouraging me with my interest in the same. In the gardens or on the balconies of every manse and home, of which there were at least seven, in no time Mum miraculously nurtured and transformed what was often quite a barren place on arrival, to, as dear Dad said: ‘a glorious little bit of Heaven on Earth’. And as one of her friends said in a sympathy message, when in Birmingham, Mum ‘transformed a tiny backyard into a botanical wonder’. One of my favourite flowers were the blue Himalayan Poppies she grew in Connel, in what Dad called their ‘Amazon garden’.
I was born in Edinburgh’s Elsie Inglis Hospital, where Mum had worked in her early years as a doctor; Elsie Inglis said: ‘I won’t sit still’; when Mum sat still, she rarely did nothing, but instead she might sew or knit, often for others; lovingly write emails or cards; telephone family or friends, remembering special occasions (happy or sad); read one of the many church newsletters or magazines she received each month; reflect on what she had read to then write an interesting article, or make use of it in an Advent letter; in the sympathy messages we’ve received, several mention looking forward to receiving Mum’s annual ‘reassuring Advent letters, full of wisdom, deep faith, encouragement and challenge, offering hope and love for the year ahead’.
Mum’s shining example of courage, faith and cheerfulness, reminds me of some words in Richard Carter’s Book ‘100 Reasons for Living, the Diary of a Grateful Heart’, copies of which were one of her last thoughtful gifts to Catriona, Iain and me: “in every small action and encounter of each day I should be filled with a greater love for all humanity, for the wonder of the world, for the gifts of the poorest, for the wounds that need healing, and for the blessings all around us”.
And, as another friend wrote in a sympathy message, “we must all keep on making a difference so that the ripples from the wave of goodness in Anne’s life will continue to spread out through her family, friends and acquaintances, and will never die away”. Our next hymn, Lord, for the Years, was one of Mum’s favourites; it reflects so much of how she lived and the way in which she would wish us to continue living. She said that she found the words helpful, moving and challenging; Mum and Dad had sung this at significant points in their ministry. Dear Mum has left such a huge hole in our lives, but I know she would want us to make sure that new shoots begin to grow, new tunes begin to play, and new patterns and hopes lead us on.
Ruth Dale
Winds change things. They have an effect. They make a difference. Mum made a difference to the lives of so many. Often in a very quiet and unassuming way. More often like a gentle cooling breeze, rather than a rushing mighty wind. When I think of Mum, three words immediately come to mind: Faith, Hope and Love:
FAITH Mum’s was a life well-lived which entirely reflected her strong, quiet and gentle faith. She began and ended each day with Bible readings, and prayers for family and friends, for those in need and for troubled places near and far.
She showed her ‘faith in action’ in so many ways, including through her commitment to the environment, global peace and justice, fair trade and in her many church activities, both in Edinburgh and in all the places where she lived. Here, amongst her AUC family, Mum loved participating fully in the worship, mission and life of the congregation. She was a compassionate and committed volunteer with the charity Fresh Start, as well as with the North West Edinburgh Singing with Dementia Group, where she had many special friends. While in Connel with Dad, regular activities included the Mary’s Meals Craft Group, as well as the Tuesday Summer Lunches Team. During her recent illness, Mum’s unwavering faith, resilience and determination helped her bravely face new difficulties, as she continued with her activities.
HOPE Mum always encouraged us to count our blessings and to look for the good in everybody and everything. She was full of energy, hope and positivity; she was an inspiration to me, showing by example how to live a good life and encouraging me to keep hopeful through some challenging times of my own. One of the sympathy messages we received, said that: ‘Anne was visible proof that the world can be a good and beautiful place’. I think we would all agree with that….
Mum remained optimistic, even in times of difficulty for herself, for her family or for the wider community and world; RARELY did I hear her complain; she made light of her recent illness and faced each day so brightly, bringing happiness and hope to everyone, right up until her last few days. She was always such wonderful company.
In my mind I often picture and hear her singing ‘All things bright and beautiful’, or ‘Oh what a beautiful morning’, as she worked away in her homely kitchen, perhaps while listening out for a blackbird’s song. Singing was one of her great passions: she was in the choir in St Andrew’s Kirk, Chennai; in Milton Keynes she belonged to the Milton Keynes Chorale; in Connel she enjoyed being a member of the Oban Bach Choir and she loved being part of the Edinburgh City Singers.
As most of you will know, Mum delighted in offering hospitality to anyone and everyone, from all walks of life. Each of her many homes, whether in India, England, Scotland, or briefly at Bossey in Switzerland, were always welcoming, comforting and inspiring; she took great pleasure in providing home-baking such as shortbread or coffee cake, or delicious Indian meals, when she hosted friends and family including her Iona Family Group. Catriona, Iain and I are blessed with happy memories of some of our childhood days spent at school on Iona.
LOVE Through all the changing scenes of life, Mum’s love for each member of the family was unfailingly unconditional. It was the gentle but strong glue which held us all together. She had a kind listening ear, gave wise advice and made the world a better place by her loving actions. She was interested in our lives, and in the world at large; she was happy to share laughter and she was always a kind and caring neighbour.
She loved nature, especially birds and flowers, and I will forever be grateful to her for nurturing and encouraging me with my interest in the same. In the gardens or on the balconies of every manse and home, of which there were at least seven, in no time Mum miraculously nurtured and transformed what was often quite a barren place on arrival, to, as dear Dad said: ‘a glorious little bit of Heaven on Earth’. And as one of her friends said in a sympathy message, when in Birmingham, Mum ‘transformed a tiny backyard into a botanical wonder’. One of my favourite flowers were the blue Himalayan Poppies she grew in Connel, in what Dad called their ‘Amazon garden’.
I was born in Edinburgh’s Elsie Inglis Hospital, where Mum had worked in her early years as a doctor; Elsie Inglis said: ‘I won’t sit still’; when Mum sat still, she rarely did nothing, but instead she might sew or knit, often for others; lovingly write emails or cards; telephone family or friends, remembering special occasions (happy or sad); read one of the many church newsletters or magazines she received each month; reflect on what she had read to then write an interesting article, or make use of it in an Advent letter; in the sympathy messages we’ve received, several mention looking forward to receiving Mum’s annual ‘reassuring Advent letters, full of wisdom, deep faith, encouragement and challenge, offering hope and love for the year ahead’.
Mum’s shining example of courage, faith and cheerfulness, reminds me of some words in Richard Carter’s Book ‘100 Reasons for Living, the Diary of a Grateful Heart’, copies of which were one of her last thoughtful gifts to Catriona, Iain and me: “in every small action and encounter of each day I should be filled with a greater love for all humanity, for the wonder of the world, for the gifts of the poorest, for the wounds that need healing, and for the blessings all around us”.
And, as another friend wrote in a sympathy message, “we must all keep on making a difference so that the ripples from the wave of goodness in Anne’s life will continue to spread out through her family, friends and acquaintances, and will never die away”. Our next hymn, Lord, for the Years, was one of Mum’s favourites; it reflects so much of how she lived and the way in which she would wish us to continue living. She said that she found the words helpful, moving and challenging; Mum and Dad had sung this at significant points in their ministry. Dear Mum has left such a huge hole in our lives, but I know she would want us to make sure that new shoots begin to grow, new tunes begin to play, and new patterns and hopes lead us on.
Ruth Dale
