Paul writes – I’ve reflected on the sad news of Tom Allen’s recent (and sudden) death. Tom was an Anglican Priest in Edinburgh. He’s blogged for a number of years as “the big bulky anglican” (here). He’s been described as a “lovely gentle giant”. Steve Taylor makes some good points here, and I’m reminded of a recent post written by Maggi Dawn (here). In that post Maggi reflects that:
“…[She] was musing this morning about the way the internet is perceived as being real or not-real... to what extent can you say it's "real life" or that you have "real" interaction with people via the screen?…”
I reflected too on what it means, what it feels like, what many of us experience as part of the online communities we belong to; communities into which we both invest something of ourselves, and receive something of others (and their journey’s, discoveries etc) as they share. We are affected by the death of one of our community. We are affected when members of that community decide to stop blogging. Tom’s death touched me. It touches us because we’ve shared something (no matter how small) together; we’ve all seen and experienced things growing amongst us… other’s learning and experience shapes us and is often given new expression in markedly different contexts. How many times have I been blessed and encouraged by e-mail, a comment, or a phone conversation…?
Many of us actually get to meet face-to-face. Maggi reflects on this above. I would echo her comments. Many of us develop wonderful life-giving friendships. Many of us who haven’t met will meet… We’ll share conversation, a cup of coffee, maybe a meal, maybe a beer, and maybe some of those points of initial contact will grow into ongoing contact and friendships will bloom. The commonalities and overlaps will become the basis for a shared journey and shared lives. As I’ve reflected before, the virtual gives way to the incarnational…
I’ll miss Tom’s reflections. I’ll miss the occasional e-mail. I’ll miss the occasional comment that Tom has left on this blog. I miss that I won’t get the chance to share a meal with him.
I want to finish by sharing a poem, written by New Zealander Alistair Campbell.
Now grace, strength and pride
Have flown like the hawk;
The mind like the spring tide,
Beautiful and calm; the talk;
The brilliance of eye and hand;
The feet that no longer walk.
All is new, and all is strange –
Terrible as a dusty gorge
Where a great river sang…
Recent Comments