Puzzles

Recently I was blessed to get away to the beach and celebrate one very beautiful 40 year old. Yes, so beautiful in fact that she saved up enough money to rent a gorgeous beach house and invite her friends from all over the country to stay with her. It was a special weekend meeting new friends and having peace and quiet to connect with old ones, all while listening to the waves crash on a beautiful stretch of sand.

Before you get too jealous, there was one very low point. On the final night of our stay just before I trudged off to bed, my sister Sara opened the doors to a whitewashed entertainment center and discovered the sad news. She tried to break it gently,  "Awe, Jen, there were puzzles."

No!!!! My jaw dropped.  My heart sank. I had just spent three days away from the demands of life. You know them, "Mommy, where are we going today?" "Mommy, you sit next to me." "Mommy, I have to go potty." "Come see it!"

And all along tucked in a cabinet were precious boxes of tiny pieces begging to be put together. I was there! I could have helped them.

Sure it would have taken some time, but I would have sacrificed a few hours of sleep. I would have welcomed the passer by who would stop, look over my shoulder, pick up the piece I'd been looking tirelessly for, pop it in place and quickly walk away. I would have waited on the soul who laughed as she watched me open the box thinking I was crazy for taking on such a project, because she's  the one who later stops, sits, looks, and spends an hour with me lost in conversation adding pieces all the while.

Yes, I love a good puzzle. It starts off messy.  It can be painfully slow and often frustrating. You know what it should look like from the cover on the box, but its a labor of love to make sense of these broken up pieces. Ah but there is such sweet satisfaction hours later as the pile of rubble finally begins to dwindle. Every piece falling into place faster now. The picture is more clear.  It's there. You can see those silly hot air balloons finally taking shape. Just a few more left!  People gather now. This is the fun part after all. Everyone wants to witness that sweet moment when the last piece...

Did I mention I love puzzles? There's really nothing like a good old fashioned puzzle. I know it's been used as a metaphor for life many times before, but I'll risk the chance of not being creative and use it again.

I have to disagree with Gump on this one. Life is not like a box of chocolates. I like chocolates. Who cares if it's not what I expected? It's chocolate! Chocolate is good no matter what you stuff inside it. And if it's not, I can spit it out and try again.

No, to me life is like a puzzle. It's a mess.  Broken relationships, pieces neglected or overlooked, pieces that seem to match, but clearly don't, no matter how many times you try. Yes, life is like a puzzle. It's a glorious mess.

This life I live is just sitting on a shelf. My broken bits concealed in a glossy covered cardboard box.  I long for someone to patiently and lovingly put the pieces together. I want someone to tell me why this happened, or how in the world that ugly piece will contribute to something beautiful? I have an innate desire to feel whole again.

I cringe remembering that not every puzzle has the perfect ending. There is the occasion where the crowd watches as I pick up the last piece from the glass table. I snap it into place only to confirm what everyone has been suspecting. Yep, there's a piece missing. There's a hole.

Of course there's a hole.  Let's face it, this is a rental house.  The puzzle's been done before and a piece was carelessly tossed aside years ago. Disappointment sets in. People kindly offer their condolences, secretively glad they didn't invest as much time as me. And there I sit, acting pleased and indifferent on the outside, but on the inside I am stubbornly bummed. Am I just supposed to accept this? My puzzle was supposed to be whole.  Not have a hole.

And there it is. Somewhere in the hours of laboring with the puzzle, I took ownership of the puzzle. It became my puzzle. I thought it was my job to fix it. I thought I could make sense of it all.

Why? I didn't create it, I didn't purchase it with blood, and without the last piece, no matter how hard I try, I can never finish it. My puzzle is but a handbreadth. Here today, but I'll be gone tomorrow. All these broken pieces were ordained, and the missing piece, the piece that was tossed aside. The stone that was rejected. It is in Him only that all things hold together.

Glory to my Savior, the maker, assembler, and finishing piece of my puzzle.

Truth:

Psalm 39:5 
You have made my days a mere handbreadth; the span of my years is as nothing before you. Everyone is but a breath, even those who seem secure. 


Psalm 139:16
Your eyes saw my unformed body; all the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be.


Acts 4:11
Jesus is "'the stone you builders rejected, which has become the cornerstone.'  


Colossians 1:17
He is before all things, and in him all things hold together.