Refinement

There’s a meme which begins, “I was today years old when I learned…” and then proceeds to reveal some seemingly basic information the meme writer apparently just discovered.

It’s a means of showing vulnerability at only now recognizing something sort of obvious, but also a way to share this knowledge and connect with other people who probably haven’t learned it yet either. It’s hashtag relatable.

I would include some examples, but they’re mostly visual and I’m super lazy about uploading images on this blog. You can google it (see, I’m hashtag helpful).

I’ve been thinking about this meme as I’ve recently had a few personal epiphanies of my own. These realizations have struck me with their simplicity.

For instance, as I vacuumed the stairs this week (one of my least favorite tasks—the kind I put off far longer than I should), I realized two things. First, vacuuming the stairs takes roughly five minutes, and really isn’t worth the weeks of procrastination I assign this household chore. I mean honestly, I spend more time lamenting the fact that I don’t want to vacuum the stairs than I spend actually vacuuming them.

And second, I began to see this job (and other tasks I don’t exactly love) as transformative in that they a) give me space to think while doing something repetitive and b) reinforce in me a sense of responsibility and gratitude for the things which my Heavenly Parents have provided for me.

In other words, cleaning my dirty floors and toilets makes me thankful for a house to clean.

In Sunday School this week, our teacher told the class about a work trip he’d recently taken to Kenya to a resettlement camp where 60,000 people are living. The camp has four portable toilets. Four toilets, total. He described a sanitation initiative which increased the number of toilets to ninety, which is surely an improvement, and yet…60,000 people.

You could say that this story gave me a perspective shift, and you would be right. But it was more than me feeling glad for my house.

The other Big Realization came while I was folding laundry and matching socks, which is another chore that my entire being seems to resist. I like producing clean clothes for my family, but the process of making that happen is so…boring. And endless. It’s truly a job that’s never done, and that’s just the nature of laundry. Ugh.

As I folded endless piles of boys’ pants, tees, and socks with dogs on them, I had questions and time to mull them over. Questions like, why in the year 2019 have we not invented technology to automate laundry from start to finish, including folding and matching socks? (Before you suggest that I delegate more chores to my kids, please note that they do have household jobs, but due to their ages and special needs, they can’t do everything).

A bigger and more important question is this: why do 60,000 people have to live in a resettlement camp in Kenya with inadequate sanitation, while I get to live in a house in the U.S.?

I mean, seriously. Answer me that.

And while we’re asking questions, why did we have to have three-hour church for 10,000 years when two-hour church is clearly far superior? And why did the temple language have to be as it was for so long when now it is different, glorious, better?

Why???

At this point in my laundry-induced ennui, I had a clear impression. As I was surrounded by piles of clean clothes and mentally meandering through a day-dreamy state, the Holy Spirit pressed upon me this phrase: It’s refining.

Refining. That’s the Holy Spirit’s word, not mine.

The parts of life that aren’t fair and aren’t pleasant are refining.

I am given circumstances in which I can learn, line upon line.

We are all given opportunities for growth, one piece at a time. These opportunities look different for everyone, but will likely employ repetition, dirt, boredom, frustration.

And yet, the undesirable things we face open up a space for subtle, steady spiritual refinement.

I believe it, though I can’t adequately explain it, just as I can’t effectively compare the hardship of living in a temporary camp in Kenya to suffering through three-hour church with three boys with autism for the last fourteen years. They’re not the same thing. Perhaps the commonality is that somewhere in facing the hard thing comes transformation.

I’m learning to accept that growth comes with sitting in that uncomfortable, tedious, telestial space.

I guess what I’m saying is, I am willing to engage with discomfort while I work at and wait for refinement.

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