“A bright light has gone out from our lives.” These words of a friend express how we all, I suspect, are feeling.
Many messages have spoken of Fiona as light. She shone. She radiated. And, just as light rarely draws attention to itself, but to its source and to that which it illuminates, so too did Fiona point to the Divine Source of the love she shared with us all.
Fiona also had fire. She was passionate, at times intense. And fire brings light too – and warmth, of which Fi had plenty.
Elisabeth my wife was one of Fi’s godmothers. Our lives were woven together with her’s and her family’s through our years in New Zealand, both in the late 70s when Fiona was a small child, and in the early 90s. Our two kids Philip and Karin, both here today, saw her as an ‘elder sister’: one memory which sticks in my mind is of a 15-year-old Fiona teasing a bunch of Leggat, Porteous and Peters kids, making them repeat ‘Silk silk silk silk silk...’ and then asking: ‘What do cows drink?’ Of course Alex was the first to answer, ‘Milk!’
Fiona was a Kiwi girl. She loved New Zealand. She displayed some of the qualities of her ‘whakapapa’ (ancestors) – we remember well her maternal grandparents, Jack and Avis, fighters through and through. And she adored Scotland too, with loving visits to her Scottish grandmother. And we all know about her Scottish dancing... She definitely wasn’t ‘English’ – and yet had the grace to accept being described as such by those who couldn’t tell the difference.
As a 16-year-old she preceding the rest of her family on their return to Europe (she always was one step ahead!). She lived with us for some months in Oxford. We shut our eyes to the state of her bedroom which thankfully was in the loft. Tidiness was never her biggest thing. Elisabeth thinks we still have some stuff of hers somewhere....
At this time we first heard her classification of people into different age groups. There was ‘young, young people’, ‘young people’, ‘old young people’, ‘young old people’, ‘old people’ and ‘old old people’! And she loved being with them all! A striking quality: she was not ageist and gave her heart equally to all ages.
After her university years at St Andrews she worked mostly with Initiatives of Change, the global trust-building network which provided a framework for pursuing the calling she felt to serve the world’s needs. She had a heart which could be stretched but without breaking.
She has been central to so many global initiatives of IofC over the past decade – the Agenda for Reconciliation conferences at Caux in Switzerland, representing IofC at UN-sponsored and other official conferences – and Tools for Change, a programme to help provide change-makers with the hard and soft skills to be effective.
The former President of IofC International, Cornelio Sommaruga, previously head of the International Red Cross, writes: “I met you in Caux at my first Official Day: you were young, beautiful, courageous, inspiring and extremely helpful for the newcomer, that I was. You were always there in the nine years of our friendship, enthusiastic, ready to show the way and encouraging... For me you were the inspiring model of what our Movement should be.”
Fiona seemed to be equally at ease mingling with heads of state at a Commonwealth leaders meeting or chairing a talk by Kofi Annan to a packed hall in Caux – or living and serving in a refugee camp, or sitting bare-footed in a Kenyan village.
She knew how to boss without appearing bossy.
Fiona had that rare gift of making you feel you were special to her. She was at times hard to catch, but once you had her you really had her!
She didn’t have an off-button. She had so much she wanted to do, and not enough time to do it all. At times I found her talkativeness a slight annoyance. Elisabeth and I often remarked, after spending time with Fiona, that she had talked so much about herself and asked so little about us. We concluded that this must be because she gave herself in listening to others so much of the time that she needed some moments – and some people with whom – she could think and talk about herself. She had her needs, as we all do.
She had an inner restlessness – it fuelled her thirst for learning, for new experiences. She was always searching.
Our last memory of Fiona was the day we spent together with her just a week before she died. We had booked many months ago for a day retreat with Jean Vanier. A spare ticket came free and we offered it by email to 20 friends. Fiona was the first to respond – so typical of her. We discovered it was her one free weekend before her wedding, but she wanted time for spiritual reflection.
She was such a happy woman that day, showing photos on her phone of her wedding dress, twittering away about bridesmaids dresses, Miheso and their future.
At the afternoon session, there was a special ceremony of 'Washing the feet' - as a symbol of service. In our little groups a bowl was passed round, with each washing the feet of the one to their right, and then receiving a blessing from that person. Fiona washed Elisabeth's feet, tenderly and prayerfully. Elisabeth laid hands on Fi’s head, held her there and kissed her lovely thick hair as she said prayers for this most lovely girl, so dear to us.
We did not know it would be our earthly farewell....
A bright light has gone out from our lives? No, no, it shines on, she shines on. “Her journey goes on,” wrote a friend. “I hope her travelling mates can keep up.” Thank you, dear Fi, for lighting the way.
English
