Ringing out the old year

There are only a few hours left in 2010, and as I did last year, I'm taking a look back using a word cloud. What's here that wasn't last year? Time is more on my mind, but silence and prayer are still frequent touch points.

The numbers: 157 posts. Word counts: 65,299 words total; God 314 times; pray (and words stemming from it) 258 times; silence 96 times. Weirdest word? pre-rhotic (see here)

Clap on, clap off

Favorite Facebook Nephew was sprawled on the sofa this morning, his mother, No No Nannette, needed the table set. When there was no response to an audio prompt, she clapped her hands loudly, eliciting a groan and creaky movement from the body on the sofa. "Clap on, clap off" - a new device to activate your teen.

No No's comment: "If only it really worked."

Podcast: Episode 7 Christmas, Through the Cross, Joy

We're enraptured by the gentle baby, not to mention the angels singing in the heavens and the wise men bearing gifts, but do we really grasp the enormity of this first sacrifice, where God pitches His tent among us? One Christmas, an elegant marble carving of Mary holding the infant Jesus in her arms as they flee for their lives resting for a moment on the altar brought into sharp relief for me the connection between the Nativity and the Cross.

Merry Christmas!

The ornament was made by my mother, for her first Christmas tree, when she and my dad were grad students. She cut out bells and hearts and start from foil, then sewed them in threes, opening them into three dimensional shapes and twisting the thread to hold them onto the tree. She stored them in the pages of an old Good Housekeeping from 1957. Browsing the magazine each year became as much a tradition for me as did the ornaments.

Merry Christmas!

Making do

I take pleasure in a universe that flows smoothly, without turbulence or chaos. One where I can reach into a drawer and find the measuring spoons — not have to hunt them up. Or where the pretzels and trays stashed on top of the refrigerator do not fall on my head when I open the door. Unfortunately I live in a "make-do" household, populated by pragmatists who live by the principle: "if all you have is a hammer, everything is a nail." When we're camping or sailing, or snow bound, I love the derring-do of it all. But there are times at home when I'd rather just use the right tool for the right job.

Alas for me, the second law of thermodynamics (or original sin, if you prefer a Catholic theological lens) prevails. There will be chaos and disorder, it is the way of the universe. In the natural order of things, the wooden spoon should not be in the jar next to the stove — so why do I rail when it's not? Sometimes I can ride the flow, not fighting the entropic currents, threading the rapids with ease. Other days it's a struggle, as I forget that trying to paddle upstream is a poor strategy - not to say energetically very expensive.