Mysterious Ways

Yesterday I was ruminating about the Greek alphabet. It made me think of another Greek word from my youth and seminary days, metanoia. It’s a transliteration of the Greek word μετάνοια. There’s a dictionary definition, but I’m going to tell you what it means to me. It’s that moment when change comes after thinking about something, meditating even. For me it always called to mind St. Paul on the road to Damascus. Keep in mind, however, I was fourteen when this hit my young brain.

Well, yesterday, I, too, had a revelation. There was no bright light and I didn’t fall from my horse and the course of the world will not hinge on my revelation, but it was a moment of clarity. I’m going to tell you what it is, and you will understand instantly why it compares not at all to St. Paul. We have three sets of fine china and two sets of everyday. That’s at least forty dinner plates. Here’s the revelation. I only need to use one of those plates. One. I can use it. Wash it. And use it again. It’s the same with my coffee cup. A bowl. A knife. A fork. And a spoon. There’s no reason to stuff a dishwashing machine full of plates and knives and forks as I eat my way through our collection.

I have no idea what this means, except it sure seems simple, and rather easy. Maybe it came about because I’m just one now and how much stuff does one person need. Granted, I still have company and they need plates, and you can’t really expect your guests to bring their own. But on an everyday basis, it seems perfectly okay to use the same coffee cup every day. So, today is the first day of the one dish one cup plan, and my cup of choice is the cup from Crystal Beach where I spent the night of my honeymoon. And I think this kind of weird logic may be one of the reasons why my wife loved me. But that’s only a guess.