On Española Island in the Galapagos, the giant tortoise population had dropped to just 15 animals. A breeding program begun in the 1960s brought together two other males and 12 females with a tortoise named Diego, who had spent decades at a zoo. The program worked so well that Española now has a stable population of around 2,300 tortoises. Diego alone fathered at least 800 offspring. On June 15, 2020, when he was over 100 years old, Diego and 14 other tortoises were carried back to Española and released into the wild. One faithful old tortoise helped bring a whole species back from the edge. Faithfulness over a long life can bless generations.
In 1925 Gertrude Ederle tried to swim the English Channel. After eight hours and 46 minutes her coach made her stop because he feared she was swallowing too much saltwater. She disagreed, fired him, and came back the next year. On August 6, 1926, she entered the water in France at 7:08 in the morning. Twice that day squalls hit, and her new trainer urged her to quit. Her father and sister, riding in the boat, agreed with her that she should keep going. At 9:04 that night, after 14 hours and 31 minutes, she reached England. She became the first woman to swim the Channel and beat the previous record by two hours. Sometimes the voices that tell you to keep going are the ones worth hearing.
As a girl in West Virginia, Katherine Johnson counted everything: the steps to the road, the steps up to church, the dishes she washed. Her father was so determined she would reach her potential that he moved the family 120 miles so she could keep going to school. She finished high school at 14 and college at 18. Later, as a NASA mathematician, her calculations helped send Americans into space. Before astronaut John Glenn orbited Earth, he wanted her to check the numbers. He said, “If she says they’re good, then I am ready to go.” In 2015 she received the Presidential Medal of Freedom. Quiet faithfulness in the details builds the kind of trust others can launch on.
As the Brooklyn Bridge project got underway in 1869, designer John Roebling died, and his son Washington became chief engineer. Then Washington was struck down by caisson disease, what we now call the bends. It damaged his sight and hearing and left him partly paralyzed. His wife Emily stepped in. She wrote his letters, kept his notebooks, reviewed plans, visited the site and met with contractors, who were stunned by her engineering knowledge. Historian David McCullough said she was literally his eyes, his legs, his good right arm. Washington wrote that he had a strong tower to lean upon, his wife. The day before the bridge opened in May 1883, Emily had the honor of driving the first carriage across it. Faithful partners build great things.
