White Pages: MORE DEAD WHITE MEN

More graves, this time C.S. Lewis (above) and JRR Tolkein (below). We went to pay our respects, and pray that a smidgen of their imagination and creativity would continue in us. How utterly unbearable to go through life being satisfied with the mediocre, to never strive to become more than I am. And yet we can't duplicate their lives. They were a gift of God, perfectly crafted for their time, though some of their contributions have become timeless. How many of us get to make a timeless contribution? Not many, though God takes what we each dedicate to Him and uses it for eternity, the very definition of timelessness. The key for me this month has been to capture the joy of making a contribution to the human race, just for the sheer joy of it, rather than for some attempt at placing myself in the historical record. I sit in the greatest library in the world surrounded by the crumbling corpus of the writers humanity has deemed worth studying. Students read some, ignore others. Yesterday I sat next to a student who had half a dozen manuscripts from the 17th century on her desk. On mine was one from 1819, written by Patrick Carey, a man who wrote poetry in 1651, that was falling apart in my hands. There is nothing else written by him, and it took 180 years for anyone to notice his work. Who knows when it was last viewed. I hope he enjoyed the process of writing it, because he didn't live to see it join other books on the shelf of accepted literature. I enjoyed reading it, some 350 years later, which I am certain he hoped for. So that's the equation I need to practice, as if preparing for a final: taking joy in a work + dedication of that work to God = a job well done. I have tasted this more here than ever, and it is a gift to me. These dead white men are speaking to me, and the Spirit that led them is alive and well in me.

WRITING UPDATE. I have completed the majority of the manuscript on Poetic Intercession I am working on, waiting for a few more watercolors from friend/artist Tiffany before I submit it to my publisher. A contact here in Oxford has also offered to set up an appointment with an Oxford Publisher. It's no Lord of the Rings, but most importantly, I've enjoyed myself.

WELCOME TO MY HUMBLE ABODE. OK, not really. It's just a manor house we visited when staying with our friends Venu and Geetha and their daughter, Sangeetha. But don't we look at home there? Fits us, right? Hmmmm.........

ACTUALLY..... the next shot is more appropriate. It's a thatched cottage that is abandoned. Hmmmm, sounds familiar. Relocation to an abandoned house. I can see a new ministry emerging.

OUR VISIT TO GEETHA & VENU's was wonderful. Their daughter Sangeetha is in her final year at Oxford (Trinity College) and is a delight. We all met 18 years ago in Oxford, and they stayed. Our boys and Sangeetha used to play in the garden of our residence hall back then. Time flies.

TINA TIME: No doubt some of you are wondering what I'm doing with all my free time while Randy is tucked away in the Bodleian. The last time we were here for an extended stay I had two little boys to care for. This time I am free to explore ..... wandering the streets of Oxford, visiting the museums (most are free, with just a donation asked for), sitting in the Blackwell's coffee shop reading my book, having lunch with Geetha weekly and then walking with her around Jericho in North Oxford where she works at Oxford Univ. Press. Some days I take the bus up to the IFES office to do some work, I sit in the sunshine outside the Clarendon Building and watch the tourists and students go by and I walk around University Parks (home to a cricket field, next to the Cherwell River and where many flowers and trees are in bloom). One day I stood in a LONG line at Moo Moo's (the milkshake shop in the Covered Market) to get my 1/2 price milkshake ..... why not ..... the price was right, I have plenty of time, and it was a real treat. Last week we both enjoyed a free lunchtime concert in the Hertford College Chapel (viola and piano). Randy and I usually meet for our sack lunch outside the Sheldonian Theater, and then, we meet again in the late afternoon to ride the bus back to Eynsham.