Diamond in the rough

March 2009

I am a creature of habit.

I still leave the tastiest morsel on my plate as the last bite to be eaten. Baking cookies is still one of the most therapeutic tasks I can ever do. Without my morning coffee I am a much less likeable person. Cracking my knuckles is still an irresistable vice. Give me a carrot, and I will skilfully nibble around it until only the stalk remains (the sweetest part too, if you were wondering). When the benediction is said or sung in a church service, I continue to rest three fingers on the pew in front.

Some of these habits have become so ingrained they have become more, even eccentricities of character. They are who I am. Part of who I have become. Most of the time, there is nothing wrong with the trivial things I do without reason, without thinking of the why or the how. Others times, it´s important that I do.

In this process I now find myself in, working on the foundations of building a new and genuine faith, I am faced with what looks like a small heap of apparent spiritual rubble. Amongst the sand and grit of disillusionment, and the crumbling bricks of anger, grief and doubt, I manage to withdraw a few choice treasures. A grubby pebble of faith perhaps, or a twig of prayer, a misshapen quartz stone that is belief. Love reflected in a shard of glass. Bits and pieces of my shattered spiritual hope. Broken, but not by any means broken down.

I can still gingerly pick up that pebble of faith, warm it in my hand, contemplate its smoothness and scrape off the thick layer of muck and dirt. I can still recognise it even in its current poor state. I can analyse it, turn it over in the palm of my hand, recall when I last held it, admire its colour and shape. Do I value it? Does it have meaning in my life? What have I learnt from it? How can I best preserve it? And eventually, after pondering these questions, becoming familiar with its contours and weight in my hand, I can place it in a new spot, away from the former rubble in the back garden, and closer, much closer to home.

The same applies to that twig of prayer that I can examine for fresh buds or peeling bark, to that quartz stone of belief that I can polish and scrub beyond the need for too much contemplation, the shard of glass I can buff up until the reflection sparkles through the nicks and scratches, glinting with a unique and new light.

And handling each in turn, I will ask the same or similar questions, resurrect them to resemble their original state, and painstakingly gather together my new collection.

To the untrained eye it will just look like a heap of insignificant rubbish. To those who wish to look closer, they may see there is more to this seemingly meaningless pile of junk, that care and thought have been taken to place them in this special place. Prolonged observers may come to realise that this collection is slowly growing, arranged and rearranged in different ways, constantly revisited, each object dusted and caressed, turned over and over and over to appeal and challenge in unexpected ways. To the casual onlooker, yes, a useless pile of trinkets.

To me, a thoughtful compilation of the person I am, the person I continue to be, and the person I will become, insha´Allah.