LESSONS FROM PUZZLES PART II:

What to do when the pieces don't fit.

My last blog was inspired by my love for doing puzzles and how they make pretty good metaphors for life. For example:

• Clarity comes in time.

• Perspective changes everything.

• Distance can reveal what closeness obscures.

• Progress is made piece by piece.

• The mess is part of the making.

• What looks like chaos is simply misalignment.

• The ultimate design is not threatened by temporary disorder.

The easy lesson from puzzles is that life can be confusing and messy, but we typically do end up figuring it out. It just takes time. The real frustrating bit is that once we complete the puzzle, a dozen more land on our doorstep. And not in a fun, "Ooh, what did I order?!" kind of way.

Here's the puzzle I am sorting at the moment. This past May, I received my Master of Arts in Public Theology; the first step in a long journey. In June, my 22-year-old son moved back home (and there is a LOT I am skimming over here) and I am trying to help him save money and plan for his future. In July, I left my steady job of eleven years in the only industry I've ever known and have since been searching for a new one. Next month, I begin my Master of Divinity program.

I am literally between a previous life and the one that awaits me, and I cannot see a clear path to the other side.

If you find yourself in a similar "in between" situation, here is something that helped me a bit. Just this past week I was introduced to Merton’s Prayer, which is all about trusting God even when you are not sure what’s in store for you. It’s worth quoting in full:

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going

I do not see the road ahead of me

I cannot know for certain where it will end

Nor do I really know myself

And the fact that I think I am following your will does not mean

That I am actually doing so

But I believe that the desire to please you does in fact please you

And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing

I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire

And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road

Though I may know nothing about it

Therefore will I trust you always though

I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death

I will not fear, for you are ever with me

And you will never leave me to face my perils alone

Yes, it sounds like Psalm 23. And if you tend to feel uncomfortable with that "let go and let God" kind of vibe, let me just say - I get that. I am a person who likes a clear plan and detailed steps for each part of the plan. And it’s ideal if that plan has a 100% chance of success. When it doesn’t, I tend to procrastinate on taking any kind of action. Fear of the unknown paralyzes me.

This kind of paralysis does not just hit us at decision-making time (but deciding what to order from the Cheesecake Factory menu is a high-pressure situation for some of us...). Indecision can easily take hold when we are in the midst of any difficult situation.

All too often, I have found myself asking, “how did I get here, and how do I get out of here?” I frequently ask God, “what is the purpose of this?” or “what is my purpose?” Generally, it's impossible to make sense of rejection, pain, loss, suffering, or failure while we are in the thick of it. 

And like any good Southern Christian woman, how often have I told myself (and others) that "this too shall pass" - without having the slightest clue of whether or not that is true or possible?

But Merton's Prayer is not suggesting that we relinquish all personal responsibility for our life choices and proclaim whatever happens is just part of “God’s plan.” Rather, this prayer reminds us that even when we cannot see the path, the possibilities, "the plan" - as long we are seeking God’s will, we will never be on our own in that holy pursuit. And for me this week, that just took a tiny bit of the pressure off.

As I find myself in this in-between, where the puzzle is coming together but still looks like total nonsense, here's what I know: the older I get, the more I realize that once we have survived the chaos, we really do look back with gratitude for where the challenge brought us or what it taught us. A painful breakup opens the door to a loving relationship. A loss of a job forces you out of your comfort zone to do that thing you were too scared to do before. A “no” leads you toward a better “yes.” You get it.

This is part of the puzzling reality of being human - enduring messy seasons and then somehow making something meaningful out of it all. But that meaning-making part takes time. People in recovery talk about "one day at a time." It's one of those cliches that is a cliche for a reason.

In her book, Bird by Bird, Anne Lamott has this quote about writing where she says, "Writing novels is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way."

With puzzles, it's one piece at a time. And somewhere in the process of putting together a puzzle, eventually the chaos gives way to order. Which also happens to be the story of the Bible.

God created order out of chaos. The chaos was there in the form of matter. But nothing made any sense yet. In other words, it’s not that God created matter out of nothing (I mean, sure, maybe. Who knows?) But what the text actually says is that God took all that was already there - the existing matter - and assigned everything its function, its purpose, its meaning.

In the chaos of life, there is still so much we cannot know for certain. Like Paul says in 1 Corinthians 13:12, “For now we see only a reflection, as in a mirror, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.”

But, I like the New Living Translation, which puts it this way:

“Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All that I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God now knows me completely.”

I’m just saying, puzzle metaphors really hold up. 

Sometimes, we will never have all the pieces. That actually did happen with the puzzle I worked on last month. One piece was missing, and at first I thought to myself, “Well, now I cannot post the picture of the puzzle! My whole concept literally has a missing piece.”

But then I realized - actually, it was quite perfect. Because there will always be some kind of missing piece in life, somewhere along the way. That was Paul's point: while we cant know the complete story now, we can have faith in the One who knows us completely. 

Here’s what I am NOT saying: "Okay fine, maybe we will never have all the answers - but God does, so don’t worry!” We still have to live on this side of heaven, and I think seeking wisdom and clarity is just part of the ongoing work of being human.

But Merton’s prayer reminds us that even if we aren’t so sure about “trusting the process,” or “letting go and letting God,” we can at least trust that the One that holds everything together, the One that creates order from chaos, won't leave us on that path alone. 

That is what life - and faith - looks like: not having the whole picture, but continuing to put the pieces together anyway. We look for the edges and we sort and we search. We try a piece, only to learn its not the right fit, and try again. Sometimes we spend forever looking for that “one last piece” only for someone else to show up and find it right away, and we realize it was right in front of us all along. 

Here's the big picture: when it comes to life, I don’t think we are ever meant to see it all at once - because then there would be no need for the search and the trial and error. And I think that maybe, that's kinda the whole point.

To keep searching.

To keep trying.

To keep hoping.

To keep trusting.

To keep building.

And if you’ve done enough puzzles, you know that more often than not, it usually comes together just fine. Even if it feels like it's just one piece at a time. Because you know what? We can make the whole trip that way.