A quiet encounter in Glasgow’s cloisters becomes a reminder of the everyday kindness that runs through Scotland, says Ian Houston

I was recently walking alone one Sunday night in the West End of Glasgow. The evening before, I had been in the iconic Bute Hall at the University of Glasgow for a joyous Burns Supper. Guided by the darkened silhouette of the Gilbert Scott Building, I returned to the cloisters, searching for a Robert Burns stained-glass window I had seen only in photographs.

In the winter quiet, with not another soul in sight, I paused—unsure where to look next. It was then that a kind security guard noticed me and took me under his knowledgeable wing. He called an equally friendly colleague, and together the three of us set off in search of the window. In the end, we found it. We would not have achieved that small goal without one another.

Standing there, looking up at the inconspicuous glass, we spoke a little about Burns, but more about our journeys—our paths, where we had come from, and what had brought us to that moment. As I gazed upward, I noticed another........

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