At the end of the secret week

I have no intention of publishing this post today.  I'm not even sure when I will publish it.  The exact date depends upon the speed of the combined efforts of the Royal Mail and the United States Postal Service.

Let me explain.

You see, there's a letter on its way to my parents' house right now, maybe somewhere over the Atlantic, explaining that I've been accepted into the DPhil program at Oxford.  And I want a few days to live with my secret news before I make it public.  The arrival of that letter will be my cue to share this with everybody.

Here are some animals who feel the way I do about this news.

I've been waiting for this answer ever since I found out last March that I was coming here for the one-year MSt course.  It's been a year of learning to live in a state of uncertainty without being afraid of it; of learning to wait and trust and listen and follow and put down roots knowing that they might be torn up.  Of doing good work not because it will earn you a prize, but because it is good to do good work.  Of enjoying gifts like carol services and nights in the pub and the smell of ancient buildings without knowing if these things would be repeated or if they would remain little fixed gems in my memory.  Above all it's been a year of living in the present and getting into the habit of saying thank you for today.

I have felt a little like a balloon, floating around in this amazing place, not knowing if I was allowed to actually stand on the ground or if I would simply drift away.  In past situations I've joked that "all that worrying paid off."  But that is one thing I will not say now.  Nothing has paid off; nothing has been earned.  I have been given a gift that just about knocks me over, and I will respond with gratitude and good work and an ever-deepening trust.  And I will say over and over for the next three years,

Thank you for today!