Science

I curled up on the couch next to my hubby after work last night, and caught the end of a program on PBS that he had been watching entitled, The History of Science: Can We Have Unlimited Power? As the title indicates, the show chronicled the time line of scientific discoveries about energy, and detailed how those discoveries led to inventions that changed our way of living.

There were two things of particular interest to me. The first was the work of scientist Alessandro Volta, who studied the Torpedo fish. By examining the dissected anatomy of this fish to learn the source of the electric charge that it emitted to stun it's prey, he was able to replicate the design and produce what came to be known as the "voltaic pile." We know it as the battery. Had this fish not been designed, but simply the result of random chaos, this replication would have been impossible. As far as I know, it is not possible to exactly replicate chaos, as it has no rhyme or reason. And, designs come from designers; even the simple ones.

The other was the discovery of radium. At first, it was thought to be producing energy out of nowhere in defiance of the first law of thermodynamics-the conservation of energy which states that, "there is no new matter or energy coming into existence and there is no new matter or energy passing out of existence." It was later understood, however, that radium's output of energy resulted in a loss of mass. As it gives off energy, it decomposes and becomes something else, like lead. That spoke to me, once again, about how the natural mirrors the spiritual. As we surrender ourselves to God, and allow the light of Christ to shine through us, we shrink away--losing "mass" and become a new creation. That is exactly what I am trying to do.

"He must become greater; I must become less." John 3:30

Quiet

Last year, I wrote that I love January for a variety of reason that I then went on to list in detail. It's still true. I love January!

After the clamor of the holidays (which I love equally) on that first day that school resumes and I send my children off to continue learning, there is a stillness and quiet that sweeps over the house and envelopes me like a warm blanket. It is luxurious and delicious; almost palpable. It never ceases to delight me. And after having filled my belly with the fellowship of friends and family, taking tours of other views from other heads, I am ready for January. For in such moments, thick will quietness, I am most present in his presence. That is the ultimate peace on earth.