Every so often I find myself up to my neck in a pile of dung. My tendency is to whine and complain and bitch and moan. Other times I just plug my nose and close my eyes and pretend that I am wrapped in a warm blanket, ignoring the fact that I am smothered in dung. Even worse is when I try to fight my way out: I end of flinging dung on everyone around me.
I am learning that even when I find myself up to my neck in a pile of dung, I can stop and pay attention. When I do, I sometimes find that there are gems buried there in the dung with me. I have to look closely and I have to be willing to dig in and pull them out. It may be difficult to see their brilliance when they are covered in dung. It's up to me to receive these precious gifts in a spirit of gratitude, in spite of the dung.
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