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Not Thirteen
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I can't think of anything to say about thirteen that hasn't become a platitude, an old wives' tale or otherwise bludgeoned to death: 13th floor, Friday the 13th, lucky 13, etc., ad nauseum. If one of you has something fresh and lively to say about that much-maligned number, please enlighten me.

And I'm equally jaded in regards to cute Santas, wire reindeer, expensive lawn snow globes, endless blah Christmas carols (none of the good ones of old) and buy, buy, buy. Gimme, what is Santa going to bring, I want, I want, I want. The greatest gift the Universe could give, the gift of love and compassion, doing good unto others who do harm unto you, is lost in the virtual "ka-ching" of the virtual cash register. I'm disgusted with the whole scene.

This next week I'm off work and spending many hours at my church, helping with decorations, participating in planning meetings, attending groups of various sorts, singing carols and enjoying the company of friends. Maybe that will be the antidote to my doldrums. If not, it's my own fault for being unable to sift the gold from the dross.

Ora pro nobis. We need it.

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