Mosiac of Myself

28 years I have had.

Almost three decades down--bending over this jigsaw puzzle of my life. Pieces strewn about—their jagged edges at times maddening. Every once in awhile, the edges connect—gliding into one another with effortless cohesion. Same shadings, matching colors, the contoured lines blending into the background as the separating seams all but disappear.

Looking back, it has been these times that were such a source of consolation to me. Comforting somehow, to think and feel life “fitting,”—to know I was learning and applying such skill at being able to neatly and beautifully find the perfect pieces that correspond to one another—all the while in my mind seeing the amazing masterpiece of art that would result in the end—if only I could keep honing my skills…finding the right pieces—to complete the design~

I have always wondered what exactly the complete puzzle would look like. When I was very young, the pieces were entirely pastel…a beachscape is what I childishly assumed would result…I could imagine the soft blues spreading out to connect with one another, sweetly residing above the soft waves of seafoam green lapping against an earth-toned shore. The pale yellows I saw peeking around the edges of the puzzle pieces could only mean sunshine—and lots of it—but never glaring or too bright. Yes, I could see the puzzle of my life being completed, and as such, being worthy of any Boca Raton retirement community art collection bar none…so soothing and sterile—light and serene it was.

But as I have grown, something astounding has occurred. MORE puzzle pieces have appeared among the table I sit at. As I spread them out, I sense fear and confusion welling up within me—anger and frustration—fast on its heels. I see the colors spread out before me among the previous soothing blues and greens. Red…bright and vibrant—jarring my mind as I try to wrap my thoughts around it. What business can red have on my beach? A brilliant purple presents itself along the edges of the ledge, and I began to reel. Lavender possibly, but this is a shrill, shockingly loud hue of hyacinth. The brightness does not blend! An onslaught of abstract pieces begin to reveal themselves….so many of them. And the edges—like daggers—sharp and fierce—the seams screaming—unwilling to be silenced.

In direct contrast, a new color crashes in. Brown and boring…shapeless slabs, edges so smooth that I fear it will be difficult to differentiate one from the other…making the puzzle almost impossible to decipher.

My jigsaw puzzle is ruined. I gasp as the fit of panic rises within me…I cannot make this work. My masterpiece is ruined. The sweet, serene beachscape ebbs away. I am left with a hodgepodge of clashing colors and crude, unpolished shapeless shards.

I cannot make sense of it all. I am angry at God for giving me these new ugly pieces to deal with—they do not fit in the beautiful design…they are ruining the art. Overwhelmed in fear and frustration, I fling the pieces to the floor—pushing away from the table—as far away as I can get from the disorganized disaster He has thrust upon me. I flee the room. I cannot bear to look any longer.

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I have since returned—vowing to pick up the pieces and salvage whatever it is that I can…

has it been hours? Days? Years? I cannot say…all I know is….I was so wrong. I am no jigsaw at all…never was I intended to be...

As the door opens, and the light floods onto the scene of my destruction, I finally see---the ruined “Jigsaw puzzle”—the hideous failure I had been blinded by…my previous shame and confusion…myself...illuminated~