So many notable titles. Shall I start with the 2013 Newbery Award winner? Or the Silbert Honors? Then again, there’s the William C. Morris award winner with the tantalizing (and genetically perplexing) tagline: Seraphina conceals a dangerous secret of her own—her half-human, half-dragon heritage.

As much as I appreciate Hopkins’ performance, the more I read of Lewis’ journals and letters–not to mention the humour that laces his fantasy works–the more I’m certain that Lewis loved laughter, and loved friendship.

There is a letter that C.S. Lewis wrote in 1948 that, I think, captures the humour that infiltrated Lewis’ life and the life his friends, the Inklings. It was after WWII, and although rationing had officially ceased, some things were simply impossible to get in England. Lewis’ letters of the period include dozens where he thanks people–usually Americans–for gifts they sent him in those lean days.

One of these generous benefactors was a prominent American doctor, Warfield Firor. Dr. Firor shared an extended correspondence with Lewis, and invited him to visit in the Rocky Mountains, though Lewis could never make it. Throughout this post-WWII period, Dr. Firor sent a number of gifts. These packages of meats and sweats and fortified drinks from Lewis’ fans, friends and supporters were always gratefully acknowledged.

And they were often shared.

One ham sent by Dr. Firor, in particular, has become a ham of note in the history of literature. Here is a letter from Lewis dated March 12, 1948:

My dear Dr. Firor,

Though I have already written to thank you for your grand present of the ham, that letter was written before tasting it: and now having done so, I feel that common decency demands further and heartier thanks.

The fate of the ham was this: we have a small informal literary club which meets in my rooms every Thursday for beer and talk, and–in happier times–for an occasional dinner. And last night, having your ham to dine off, we had a meal which eight members attended. By diligent ‘scraping the bottom of the barrel’ in various colleges we got two bottles of burgundy and two of port: the college kitchen supplied soup, fish and a savoury: and we had a delightful evening. This by English standards is a banquet rarely met with, and all agreed that they had’nt eaten such a dinner for five years or more.

I enclose a little souvenir of the occasion which may amuse you.

With our very best thanks for all the happiness you gave us,

yours Ham-icably,
C.S. Lewis

Despite the hamhock pun, the reader can immediately see the light tone. This is the second official letter from the Oxford don regarding the ham–the previous one described it as “that magnificent ham.”

But there’s more.

There is also a note attached, a splendid specimen of Inklings humour. Walter Hooper includes a copy of the note in The Collected Letters of C.S. Lewis: Volume II: Books, Broadcasts, and the War (1931-1949). It is a bit difficult to capture in print, but here it is:

The note, dated March 11, 1948, says:

The undersigned, having just partaken of your ham, have drunk your health:

It then lists, in the fashion of great formality, the signatures of the Inklings as they sat at the table, with their titles, their Army roles, and their positions at the University.

Lewis adds this note to the bottom of the letter:

As some have not v. legible signatures, I had better say the list runs; C.S. Lewis, H. V. Dyson, Lord David Cecil, W. H. Lewis, C. Hardie, C. R. Tolkien, R. E. Havard, J. R. R. Tolkien. The order is just as we happened to be sitting. Tolkien père is the senior and T. fils the baby.

Dr. Firor, who has a named chair at John Hopkins, would later go on to donate his Lewis collection to the Bodleian and sponsor important work in Lewis studies. And Lewis would go on to receive more packages from supporters. I read of one, once, that included fresh eggs, bacon, and butter–betraying a confidence in the postal system that I do not have.

I think, though, that this note, written in all its false seriousness, should dispel our image of Lewis or Tolkien as brooding intellectuals or humourless introverts. After all, the great Oxford Don and Cambridge Professor C.S. Lewis, the author of works of literature, critical theory, philosophy, and poetry, was able to sign a letter, “yours Ham-icably.” It seems he was able to ham it up with the best of them.

Abstract
This paper examines the critical reception of Kevin Major’s Hold Fast, published in 1978, as a hinge event in the field of production of Canadian children’s literature. It is argued that this novel represents a Canadian version of the social realism narrative that was well established in the United States by the mid-1970s and that recognizable conventions of this type of literature augmented its positive reception. Equally important for its continued celebration as a notable work, however, were its uniquely Canadian themes and motifs. These themes are explored through a close examination of reviews and commentary published between 1978 and 2006. Questions are raised about reviewers’ refusal to situate the title against earlier publishing for young people in Canada and about the role that the professionalization of young adult literature and librarianship played in the reception of the title.

“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is an adventure wrongly considered.” ― G.K. Chesterton

Middle Grade

In A Glass Grimmly by Adam Gidwitz: Guts, gore, silliness, humor, and heart. The moral’s also beautifully woven into the story, not shoved down your throat.

One Year in Coal Harbor by Polly Horvath: Quirky as ever, but also happier, I liked this one even more than Everything on a Waffle because Primrose gets to be a kid and have “kid problems.” Even so, she’s quite sage when she’s not trying to help along Miss Bowzer and her Uncle Jack’s stalling romance!

The Case of the Deadly Desperados by Caroline Lawrence: Who doesn’t love a good Western-Detective-Murder Mystery that’s laugh-out-loud hilarious? Love the way our clever but oblivious narrator, PK Pinkerton, thinks.

YA

The Wicked and the Just by J. Anderson Coats: Wonderfully researched to the last vivid detail, I adore the ever-shifting relationship between the two main characters with equally strong personalities and very different backgrounds.

Bink and Gollie, Two for One by Kate DiCamillo and Alison McGhee, illustrated by Tony Fucile: a marvelous story on the edge of easy reader/early chapter book/graphic novel. Seems like a long shot for Newbery glory, but I’d love to see some Geisel recognition.

In a Glass Grimmly by Adam Gidwitz: because we need more funny award-winning books, and it has plenty of heart as well.

Cover of The Four Loves

“Emerson said ‘Do you love me’ means ‘Do you see the truth I see?’  Or at least,” C.S. Lewis added, “do you care about that truth as I do.”

I only recently tripped upon this quote from Lewis’ The Four Loves, though he is one of my favorite writers. Do you have moments when reading a book, or even just a sentence, crystallizes an idea or brings something in your life into such sharp focus that it is like you understand it for the first time? This sentence was one of those ‘ah ha’ life perspective moments. It made me think. And like many thoughts, it wasn’t totally a brand new perspective, more a clarifying confirmation.

You see Doug and I fell in love this way. And my husband, the son of an F.B.I. Special Agent, asked me that question…and a lot of others. Part of how we fell in love was by a discussion of what ‘truth’ was to each of us.

Our love story is an enduring one, a very happy one, and probably a different one. I’m not sure. Tolstoy said, “Happy families are all alike, every unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” I wonder if that is true for marriages. Do happy marriages have at root something held in common?  I am sure not everyone falls in love by spending hours discussing the meaning of life,  but to have a marriage that lasts perhaps a couple must have a shared definition of what will make their lives meaningful.

The best explanation of this may come from another quote by C.S. Lewis, “Friendship arises out of mere Companionship when two or more of the companions discover that they have in common some insight or interest or even…’vision’…which others do not share and which, till that moment, each believed to be his own unique treasure (or burden). The typical expression of opening Friendship would be something like, “What? You too? I thought I was the only one.”

You see Lewis found Friendship to be one of the Four loves. Philios. And Doug is not only my husband. He is my best friend. Those hours of discussion as we fell in love were full of ‘you too’ moments.

We met at the International Club at the University of Buffalo. The first time was also Doug’s birthday.  He came to meet a friend and ended up meeting me.  He was interested. He says he knew from the first minute he was going to marry me. I didn’t.  At least not until we met for the second time.

We come from such opposite experiences. Doug is from the quintessential American family: WASP, Scots English with a wild Irishman or two and a French Huguenot thrown in, related to John Adams and General Jubal Early, and having a grandmother in the D.A.R.  I am ethnic, 100% Polish, was Catholic, the granddaughter of immigrants who didn’t come to America until the early 1900s. Doug’s family was Leave It To Beaver, mine The War of the Roses.

But despite our seemingly insurmountable differences, what we shared was more important. Both of us felt out of place in the world; we marched to the beat of a different drum, a different truth. More important it was the same truth: that the two of us felt we were put into the world to try to leave it a better place, that God had a purpose for us, a call to reach out to others, and we wanted to live it.  To Dream the Impossible Dream… together.

The reality is we fulfill that call in often different ways, individually and together.  He is a minister. I am a social worker and teacher. We are both good counselors. He reads philosophy and theology.  I read novels and epic fantasy. We both read essays. He is a computer nut while I love gardening and cooking. (Well, he does love eating!) He won me over by playing the guitar and singing, I wooed him by letting him read my poetry. But both of us have an inner compass that points to the same truth.  That truth, and our shared beliefs, has been the star that has led us.

On the second day we spent together we discussed the meaning of life, and we knew in that moment we would spend our lives together. It has always seemed miraculous. It was certainly powerful, intense, and virtually instantaneous. And we both felt it was something ordained to be, a part of God’s plan for us, but not something easily understood by anyone other than us. At least I thought that until I read Lewis’ quote.  Certainly he and J.R.R. Tolkien found shared truth in their friendship, in their writing, in their faith, and as “fellow travelers” on their life journeys.

So if you have read this far at least some of this must make sense to you as it does for me, whether about the loves or friendships in your lives.  For those of you who haven’t read this book, I’ll close with a final quote from The Four Loves: “Friendship is not a reward for our discriminating and good taste in finding one another out. It is the instrument by which God reveals to each of us the beauty of the other.” If you are one of my friends, I thank you for sharing your beauty with me. If you are an as yet unmet acquaintance, this may be the moment we discover a shared truth. And for all of you reading this, I wish that in the year ahead you find friendship and love, shared truth and blessings.

Related articles

• 30 Quotes on Friendship (psychologytoday.com)

I like to think that I read a wide variety of YA (if that is even possible), and I like to think that girls don’t need to be an incredible beautiful new kid who moves to a new school because of a tragic (most probably paranormal) past, and the most popular guy at school (who probably saves her life somewhere along the way) is instantly struck by her beauty inside and out. While I have no reservations towards these plots (I certainly read them often enough), books including a strong, intelligent, confident heroines do tip the scales a little. And when the author can make the story good even if the romance is just in the background, that’s even better. In the end, I like to think that girls don’t need a hero to be a heroine, and they can save the world by themselves.
I think every now and then YA needs a little bit of Kim Possible.

WARNING! SPOILERS AHEAD!

#1. Rose Hathaway (Vampire Academy by Richelle Mead)
She has to kill the guy she loves..and then tell his family she’s going to do it! She deserves number one, hands down.

#2. Bryn (Raised by Wolves by Jennifer Lynn Barnes)
Going against her ‘dad’ and watching the guy she loves die because she’s Alpha and she’s gotta do it for her pack? Although Barnes doesn’t explain their background very much, the bond between Bryn, Devon and Lake are just amazing. They would do anything for each other, yet they know they must put the pack before them.

#3. Faythe Sanders (Shifters by Rachel Vincent)
For taking on her father’s pack when he dies and then going through a battle she know she can’t win for her pride. Also for standing up to obnoxious tomcats who’ve got like 200 pounds on her.

#4. Six (Lorien Legacies by Pittacus Lore)
Even with Legacies aside, Six is the most eccentric, kickass heroine I have ever read. Most main characters in Sci-fi can all fight but this girl- she’s crazy. My definite fave Six moment of all time…
“Sam likes you, too, you know,’ I say.
‘And I like Sam.’
I cock my head. ‘But you just said you like me.’
She pushes me on my shoulder. ‘You like me and Sarah. I like you and Sam. Deal with it.’
I still can’t believe her name is Maren Elizabeth!

#5. Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games)
Standing up to an entire government army takes a lot…but then again she wouldn’t be the face of a rebellion. Not to mention she’s in the whole mess in the first place because she volunteered to take her sister’s place!

#6. Tris Prior (Divergent by Veronica Roth)
She’d let her boyfriend think she was a traitor even though she was actually saving her faction. And for not being afraid to call on his factionless mom’s BS.

#7. Alex Andros (Covenant by Jennifer L. Armentrout)
She let herself be tagged and left with scars to save Caleb. Then she fought with him, and watched him die for Lea. Saw hope in Seth up until the point he started draining her aether. Oh and crazy daimon killer.

#8. Low (Because of Low by Abbi Glines)
She can’t actually ‘kick ass’ as in fight, but I still  think she’s the epitome of staying strong. She’s got her own crap to handle but somehow her mess gets tangled in with Marcus’s and it’s hell in a hand basket. She cares about Larissa so much and doesn’t want her niece to end up like her, but she can still kick her sister’s butt when needed. Oh and the way she totally kicked Jess’s ass in the bar when Marcus was too drunk to do anything.

Reblogged from Mallorca Observed:

The traditional white paper doilies in Mallorca used as a Christmas decoration are called Neules.

Many moons ago, neules were hung in churches from a main lamp called the Solomon. Then, neules functioned as a kind of religious calendar helping the priest to let the poblers (villagers) know how many weeks and days would pass in that particular year, from Christmas Day to…

Read more… 266 more words

3. He never learned to drive.

8. He had dreams of lions. Prior to writing The Chronicles of Narnia he had strange dreams of lions and pictures in his head of a faun carrying parcels.

11. He often addressed Jesus as Aslan in prayer.

13. His conversion to Christianity was not when he wrote in Surprised By Joy: …This was simply his conversion to theism from atheism in 1929. It wasn’t until 1931 that he and his brother went to Whipsnade Zoo. Warren drove the motorcycle while Jack sat in the sidecar! He wrote, “When we set out, I did not believe that Jesus Christ was the Son of God, and when we  reached the zoo, I did.” The evening before this trip, Lewis had a long discussion with Hugo Dyson and J.R.R. Tolkien about Christianity.

14. He did not affirm the inerrancy of Scripture. To be clear, he highly regarded the Bible and its authority. He read the Bible constantly (Authorized Version). But he would not have used the same language about the Bible as evangelicals do today.

21. A Grief Observed was originally published under the pseudonym N. W. Clerk. Lewis wrote this work after Joy died in 1960. Many who read the book sent Lewis copies hoping it would help him in his plight!

Anyway, you can click the link for all 30, but this is the one that intrigued me:

25. He wrote to Kathy Keller. Kathy Keller is Tim Keller’s wife [author of The Reason for God and Prodigal God and pastor of Redeemer Presbyterian in New York City]. She wrote to Lewis when she was 12. There are four letters from him to her in Letters To Children and volume three of Letters of C.S. Lewis.

When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up.  Psalm 27:10

At about the age of ten, Margaret and I were moved from the foster home with the Wingate’s to Thompson Orphanage.  I became deeply depressed soon after we got there, because my father had written a letter to my caseworker several months before, saying he might come for us soon, so we could live with him.

But then I learned that he had moved to Mallorca, Spain to live with his new wife. I knew we would never be going home. I wanted to know why no one loved us or wanted us, and I would cry in my little room when no one was around.  I suppose that my plight was better than the real orphans who had no living parents, but I really never thought upon that at the time.

I remember one occasion when all of the children at the orphanage were taken to the theater to see a movie called “Oliver!”  The staff told us that we should appreciate how good we had it by comparison to Oliver in the film. In retrospect, I view it as an attempt to somehow legitimize the insensitivity of the adults working with us and to make us feel foolish if we were in anguish.

I had a roommate in the orphanage and she loved the Beatles, and introduced me to their new album “Let It Be.”  There were two songs on that album that made me cry.  One was the title song “Let It Be” and the other was “The Long and Winding Road.”

I played them over and over again on my roommate’s little red record player and wept from the depths of my soul.  I felt that I was on a long weary road in the wilderness of despair, and that music was speaking to me.

I tried to lock my heart up inside a cast iron gate with spears on top.

Although I was recognized by my teachers at school for being powerfully creative and maintaining high grades, this validation was no longer enough.  I became more and more withdrawn and would go into the bathroom during breaks and cry.  I felt more and more like an outcast, because I had only one friend, and I had been moved around so often that I could never sustain a friendship.  I lived in a clouded glass bubble and could not see or hear other people anymore.

I felt that God had forsaken me.  So one day, I decided one day to kill myself.  We lived in Christ Church cottage with about twenty girls at the time, and there were two of us to each room.  Every two rooms had an adjoining bathroom between them, so that the four girls would take turns with showers and such each day.  I entered the bathroom that day and locked the doors on both sides of the bathroom securely.  I opened the medicine cabinet, and pulled out a package of razor blades that a teenage girl from the next room had placed there for shaving her legs.

I nervously lifted one new blade out of the plastic package. Just as I touched the blue veins of my wrist with that cold razor blade, my roommate Crystal walked in.  Her eyes grew wide and her mouth opened as if to scream, then she ran out of the room.  I was so sure I had locked the doors. I knew that I was in big trouble, so I quickly put the razor back into the cabinet and ran out of the bathroom.  The cottage mother came running in to see what I was doing, and I tried to act like nothing had happened.

That evening, it was very quiet at the dinner table.  The girls usually talked and giggled during meals, but not this time. Everyone seemed afraid to say a word.

The next morning, I was told to go and see my counselor instead of going to school.  I walked past the gigantic dinner bell and the playground, to the old two-story building across from the cafeteria.

I walked into the office of Miss Storozuk.  She sat at her oversized wooden desk, a petite lady with short brown hair trimmed neatly around her ears and just above her collar, wearing an olive polyester suit, and small oval glasses. She asked me to sit down and to talk about my feelings, and she placed a box of Kleenex on her desk.  My knees began to shake and I tried to keep my feet from quivering on the wooden floor.  I began to wring my hands and cried, “I haven’t heard from my mother in a long time and I am wondering if she is dead or if something happened to her. I don’t get any letters from her anymore. No one seems to care about me or what happens to me.  I cry all the time, because I don’t know why my parents don’t want me…”

I never used the Kleenex box, but my counselor did.  Her glasses kept fogging up, and she kept taking them off and wiping her eyes. She seemed speechless and terribly upset. I had hoped she might have a magical way of healing my pain, but she didn’t.

The next day, there was a pile of letters in my mailbox from my mother.  Had someone been hiding them so that I might forget about her?

The only consolation in the meeting with my caseworker was that someone cared enough to shed tears for me. It really affected me.

Later, I heard a rumor that Miss Storozuk was fired for becoming too emotionally involved with the children. My new caseworker was a stiff expressionless lady named Miss Parish.

But the thing that still amazes me about the bathroom incident is that I locked those doors securely before I attempted to cut myself.  I was sure of it.  Yet my roommate just walked right in, which I could not figure out.

I had forgotten all about my covenant with Christ, and about His promises to take care of me. But He didn’t forget me. This may sound unbelievable, but I still believe that God unlocked the door that day.

“I know thy works; behold I have set before thee an open door, and no man can shut it.” Revelation 3:8

At daily Mass on Friday, the priest made a reference to this article in the Wall Street Journal.  The idea was that modern fiction is not, in fact, faithless, but contains faith in but a whisper–as opposed to the literary giants of the 20th Century whose faith was quite prominent: figures like G. K. Chesterton and Hilaire Belloc, like the Inklings, the literary circle of J. R. R. Tolkien and C. S. Lewis, or like the poet Roy Campbell and the novelist Evelyn Waugh.

The Inklings

This sort of a lull in strong Catholic writers hearkened back to something which we both said and heard while playing a new game we got for Christmas: Uncle Chestnut’s Table Gype.  Each of us has a copy, so we are hoping to share the joy of the game with others.  However, one of the special things about this game is that pieces can jump other pieces, Chinese-Checkers-style.  And when one player gets a phenomenally good series of jumps (often landing in the other home row), the next player whose turn it is hangs her head in her hands and goes, “How on EARTH do you expect me to follow THAT up?”  After a series of smaller, subtler moves, she may end up with a monumental jump, prompting the cycle to repeat again.

Such is the way of the world in the literary field now, it seems.  Greats such as G.K. Chesterton (whose writings about Table Gype are actually the basis of the game), J.R.R. Tolkien, and Flannery O’Connor have just gone before us.  We have hung our head in our hands and asked how we are supposed to follow that up.  And we are quietly moving our pieces around, setting the board for a most phenomenal move.

I find it sad that letters written by hand are becoming obsolete in our modern world.  It is difficult to find beautiful quality stationary these days.  Many stores sell cards for certain occasions, but there are few tools for real letter writers who enjoy mailing sentiments to people.

I have thought a great deal about dying traditions like letter-writing, and ways that I might help to restore some of the beauty and meaning that is being lost in our technological society.

Instead of just pecking out quick emails, I want to slow down and put forth the effort to buy or create pretty stationary, take out a fancy pen and write a letter by hand in my best cursive writing, seal it into an envelope with a charming sticker or two on the outside, and lick an artistic commemorative stamp to place upon it.  Then I’ll drive to the post office and slip it into the big blue mailbox. It’s the least I can do for people I love who have enriched my life.

It’s time to look for ways to slow down and enjoy moments and people more, to dig a little deeper for meaning.  Writing letters will be one of my contributions to this cause.  And maybe I can help save the post office too.

~♥~

(I am working on a series of editorials called “Dying Traditions” to be posted here as time permits.) 

A reflection about reading that ties with some issues raised by Snowball.

A quote: “The thought of losing this aspect of my life [reading] that I deem to be important made me slightly depressed over the winter break, and so I decided to take action and let the words of fiction wash over me like they hadn’t since I was just a young boy. I felt refreshed afterwards, like I had gained wisdom merely by reading 300 pages of Chuck Palahniuk fiction. Since that point I have begun reading more intensively, and because of it, I feel a greater sense of self…”

Next Monday/Tuesday I will make available a personal copy of the novel at the GRC. It seems that it has been harder to access for reading.

I was originally thinking to do a post on my top picks from 2012, but then I thought, hey, it’s 2013! What better way to kick off the new year than to do a post on my guilty pleasure all time faves- the ones I turn to when I’m looking for excuses to do my work seconds before it’s due? So here it is (well, the ones I have in printed text and not Kindle edition). My not-so-secret- anymore procrastination stash.

Whoa. It’s all YA.
Better work on that.

Love always,
The Permanent Monday

I found, while looking for my true self, that I was

NOTHING

I’ve been trying to figure out what life is. What can I liken life to? Where can I find a representation of it?

And the truth is life is a cat. Plain and simple.

It sees you standing there, doing nothing. Then, for no other reason other than because it can, it reaches over and “boop”.

Life is a stupid @#$%ing cat.

]]> http://hiddeninjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/02/in-addition-to-the-ceremony-in-westminster-abbey/ Wed, 02 Jan 2013 19:55:59 +0000 Jessica http://hiddeninjesus.wordpress.com/2013/01/02/in-addition-to-the-ceremony-in-westminster-abbey/ (see http://anglicanink.com/article/cs-lewis-be-added-poets-corner-westminster-abbey) there are a host of Lewis-related events taking place this year and next–like the Inklings conference July 14-19 at St Aldates in Oxford. Hal Poe at Union U in TN is contact person. And all these:

C.S. LEWIS FOUNDATION TO COMMEMORATE THE 50TH ANNIVERSARY OF AUTHOR C.S. LEWIS’S DEATH

The C.S. Lewis Foundation of Redlands, California, will present a series of events in the United States and England over the next two years to celebrate the ongoing legacy of the celebrated British scholar and writer, C.S. Lewis (1898-1963). . .

The C.S. Lewis Foundation will host events in San Diego (CA), Houston (TX), Oxford (UK), and Cambridge (UK). The first event in the series will be the C.S. Lewis Summer Conference in San Diego, June 19-23, 2013. Taking place at the University of San Diego, the conference will feature a wide range of noted C.S. Lewis scholars and performing artists. The theme is “Living the Legacy: The Vision, Voice, & Vocation of C.S. Lewis.”

In the fall of 2013, in Houston, the series will expand to include a commemoration of Lewis’s friend and colleague, J.R.R. Tolkien, author of The Lord of the Rings, who died 40 years ago in 1973. Both men were members of the famed literary group the Inklings. The theme of the event – “The Forge of Friendship: Tolkien, Lewis, & the Creative Impulse” – will explore the close friendship between these two men and how it influenced their lives, careers, and writing. The C.S. Lewis Regional Conference will take place in November 2013.

The culminating event of this celebration of Lewis’s life and legacy will be the 2014 C.S. Lewis Summer Institute. Also known as “Oxbridge,” this event is held every three years at distinguished colleges in Oxford and Cambridge, England. The conference will explore important contemporary themes with renowned scholars from the arts and sciences, leaders in ministry and the major professions, and literary, visual and performing artists. The ninth Summer Institute will take place in late July 2014, on the theme “Volumes of Vision: Human Excellence in the 21st Century?”

For further information, visit www.cslewis.org, call (909)793-0949, or contactSteven Elmore, Director of Communications, at selmore@cslewis.org.