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Boston Strong. Image from www.tauntr.com

Boston Strong. Image from http://www.tauntr.com

I’ve always had a lot of affection for the city of Boston.

Since I was a child, I have been a fan of the Boston Celtics as Larry Bird, Kevin McHale and Robert Parish led them to multiple championships in the 1980’s.

It’s a beautiful city and is one place that I would love to visit one day, but my heart was lifted even more when I watched the city respond with such resilience in the lead-up to the one year anniversary of the Boston Marathon bombing.

To see the way the Boston Red Sox organisation and fans honoured the survivors of this tragedy was wonderful.

To see runners from all over the world determined not to be kept away from Boston by fear is magnificent.

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Little Jimmy’s family was sitting around the dinner table having a polite conversation, when little Jimmy asked his dad, “How does fear grow?”

“What do you mean son?”

“Well, I can see that it makes sense to be afraid when you are standing on a cliff top and don’t want to fall over the edge, but my friend at school is terrified of asking or answering questions in class.  He told me that even the thought of raising his hand and having everyone look at him makes him shake and he wants to crawl under the table and cry.  He wasn’t always like that, he used to be so confident.  How does someone become so afraid of something like that?”

“Why do you ask?”

“He doesn’t seem to mind, but I heard the teacher say to his mum that she was worried about him.  Why should she worry?  Surely being afraid of raising your hand in class isn’t a big deal.  I don’t understand.”

The father pushed his chair back from the table and looked into the distance for a moment.

“Do you remember your Uncle Billy?” he asked.

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