Reflection on Refraction

In the interests of good writing, those who know me well might advise that I not type out a blog post while I am hungry and annoyed. Maybe. But none of you are here, so here I am.

There are moments in life that you wish you could fast-forward, you know? The mundane, the trivial, the I-just-want-to-get-this-over-with-so-I-can-do-something-fun. I guess it's a good thing you can't--you'd miss out on all the character-building moments of life. You'd also miss out on the treasures that can sometimes be found in the everyday.

Like how a simple walk with your kids can turn into a game of jungle tag in grass as tall as they are... Or how a simple van ride to do errands can turn into a discussion about life, the universe, and everything... Or how "dead space" in a day is suddenly filled up with little voices singing at the top of their lungs, off-key but full of enthusiasm...

But what about those things that are down-right irritating? Like the child whose first reaction to an offense is to scream at the top of his lungs instead of using words? Or the wrestling that never stops until someone gets hurt? Or the extra clean-up you get to do because of someone else's carelessness? (Or even your own?) Or the extra task someone piles on you unexpectedly, despite your already-overburdened "to-do" list? Wouldn't it be nice if we could fast-forward those?

Where is the treasure in the irritating? Where is the diamond in the dust?

Or perhaps the irritation is not the dust, but the chisel--slowly chipping away at the rough diamond of our own characters to reveal something beautiful, pure, reflecting light and love, refracting patience.

Because even though the diamond itself was formed after a lot of time and pressure, it still needs to be shaped and polished before it is ready to display.

As, I suppose, do I.