For those you who love puzzles then you know the adrenaline rush… having only 25-30 pieces left to place in that 1000 puzzle you have worked diligently to complete over the last three days…
Your heart rate is slowly picking up… your sense of accomplishment is almost at hand as you work to finish this beautiful printed, cut out cardboard masterpiece…
You have watched it come to life right before your eyes… pieces 990, 991, 992, 993… IT’S ALMOST THERE!… 994, 995 996… isn’t it the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?!… 997… 998… 999…
… wait… what? … where? …(cue looking around frantically, jumping up, looking down, about to hyperventilate…) where is it?! Where. Did. It. Go. No, No, No… NO!! THE LAST PIECE! …(cue dramatic flares, multiple expletives, harsh movements throughout the room looking here, there, under the furniture, behind the furniture, around places there is no way it could have even traveled unless on a shirt or pants, the bottom of a shoe, carried off by the cat)
Looking, cursing, blaming… anger, sadness, confusion, desperation… all of the emotions while destroying the house, blaming your spouse for that last minute need to vacuum before you finished, the adrenaline still pumping, it’s crazy making… like a wild animal.
Then… you happen to see the drawers of your wooden puzzle board pulled out and you look carefully inside of each thinly sliced wedge… and there, after all the swearing and damage caused by your wrath, there it is. You gently tilt the board for the piece to fall out, with your spouse and child staring at you as you completely rocked their peace-filled afternoon… and you gently pick it up, hold it tenderly like it’s the holy grail and place it right in the dead center of the puzzle.
It’s complete. Oh that glorious feeling of accomplishment and joy. What was lost was now found! You never knew how much a piece of colorful cardboard could mean… That deeply beloved, missing one piece. You can’t help but give yourself over to the abandon of exuberant celebration with those around you. Calling them all to cheer, dance, wave their hands in the air in pure joy! You even text to let others know of the joyous occasion.
This was my reality on Sunday late afternoon. I was so excited to get back to finishing the last several pieces of a puzzle I had been so eagerly working on since Thursday evening. I had worked a 24+ hour on-call shift at the hospital Friday and after a short nap, I worked diligently until the late Saturday evening hours. I couldn’t wait to finish this bright whimsical puzzle with pictures of sloths, flowers, birds, and bugs my daughter had been given for Christmas last year. I immediately was reminded of the parables of those things that were lost (a sheep, a coin, and a son) that were later found and celebrated in Luke, Chapter 15.
Granted these parables speak to God’s love, joy at return, and repentance. I love that these parables create an image unique to the human experience. God as a shepherd leaving the flock to search for the one that is lost. God as a woman who has loses one of her ten coins and “searches carefully [and relentlessly] until she finds it.” God as a father who welcomes home his son he thought was dead and has returned. This moment in time, after looking the house over, expressing all of my emotions and the joy at finally finding the lost piece gave me pause. A pause that allowed me to sit with my own faith journey over the last decade. I sat in the pain, sadness and anger time spent deconstructing the religious experiences and understanding of my childhood and working to undo the toxic Christianity of purity culture and the shame I have carried in my body and around my body. I worked to bless the faith that molded me and made me while integrating the faith that has become and grown to be mine. It’s forever expanding and I believe will never be complete. I have found a place within myself filled with deep love, affection and desire to learn and know this God of my adult understanding and experiences. This God who gives space for the questions, the doubts and the anger but is never far. This God who loves all of God’s creation and desires relationship with all and excludes none. This God who gifted the world with a son that taught us about God’s love, God’s inclusion, and God’s Kingdom here on Earth. A son who taught and is teaching me how to love like God, how to be kind to those I may not like or are different than me, and created in me more awareness around my biases, privilege, assumptions and judgments. A son who has taught me the importance of curiosity, openness and asking questions. A son who shows me the beauty of hospitality and inclusion. A son I love and want to be more like, as he reflects the image of my God.
For a period of time I journeyed in the wilderness. I lived in what I felt was a never-ending season of Winter, and I learned it was ok not to be ok. I also learned I wasn’t alone. My spirit needed space to question that which doesn’t make sense, to be angry at injustice and question why, to grieve the ideals and things I held onto so tightly and believed to be certain. What I’ve learned about the Winter is that first of all, it is a season. It may feel like an eternal one, but it is a season and seasons change. Second, I learned that though the surface is cold, dark, desolate and mostly dead to the eye, underneath there is a whole ecosystem waiting to bloom, still very much alive, needing time to root and hibernate and when Spring comes it’s an incredible experience of rebirth, life and new beginnings. It’s holding on through the Winter that’s key, knowing this too shall pass.
So I encourage myself, and whoever may be reading this, to consider not letting those moments that can be teachable experiences pass you by. I am one who believes everything is spiritual because everything effects your spirit, from what you see, what you hear, what you engage in, who you engage with, and that which engages you. Losing a piece of a puzzle helped me to consider the faith journey I’ve been on as a human and how joy-filled I feel coming home in my spirit and being at home with my God. So the journey continues…
The Journey Home 