Life is one huge puzzle, right?
My husband does the jigsaw type with three hundred big pieces. First, he places the border, “a boundary,” he says. “Then I know where to put the sections.”
He problem-solves as he moves his eyes around. His way differs from mine. He picks up a piece by color, looks for connections, matches shapes. I look for the indentations and protrusions in each piece, and the openings in the puzzle as a whole.
He completes a puzzle in a few days usually. Then I see the big picture, how small parts make a grand design, and say, “Wow. Look. Great.”
Puzzle complete, I squish the pieces together to break up the chunks and connections, and drop them in their box. I rattle and shake it all. What jumbled noise! I put the box on the shelf, reach for the next one, rattle and shake the insides and dump the mixed mess on his puzzle table.
In life, these days, my insides feel jumbled and rattled, too. I feel shaken by the huge puzzle that is our country, that is our world, that is relationship. I am a piece flipped upside down and turned over, mixed up. I don’t know which pieces fit in my life. This person? That group? Which news station? There are broken pieces and jagged edges everywhere. I question how this part goes with that part and wonder if I will ever see the whole picture, whether anything will feel complete.
Sometimes I think I’m helping my husband by placing a piece. Later he tells me that those summer greens in that middle piece are not the same greens as the ones on the right where the piece belongs. Ahh. Belonging. I hadn’t recognized the mismatch. Mismatch catches me in life, too. What belongs where? Do I belong in this state, as its pieces fall apart, this country that is not a match for me, nor for those of us who want life’s puzzle pieces to fall neatly together? Can any of us trust that the United States will honor its grand design? How do we know our place when people we love are ripped from us into detention? Sections of life that belong together are separated by immigration raids: parents from children and employees from workplaces. Our insides rattle, shake, and feel tight, as if confined in a box.
When the mix of questions and doubts puzzle me, I don’t know what to do, feel overwhelmed by societal, cultural and relational ruptures. Life’s chunks are big. Nothing makes sense. Where do I turn? What feels safe? Then I watch my husband do his puzzles, piece by piece by individual piece. “Ahh,” he says, “here is one tiny good fit.”
What if we ask ourselves, even in the rattle of life’s huge puzzle, that is this country, that is this world, what are the pieces that fit for me? There might be no big Wow and no finishing. Certainly, puzzle construction in life takes longer than “a few days usually”. Maybe, after we live with that question, we still shake. But maybe we spend less time trying to fit pieces where they don’t belong. Maybe we look for openings that feel meaningful. And maybe, first making boundaries for ourselves helps us know what to let into our lives and what to leave out. It always seems like good advice to do the next right thing. So, let’s quietly turn one upside down piece right-side up, look for close and trustworthy connections and, piece by piece, one tiny good fit. At least in any given moment, perhaps those actions can start healing the noisy overwhelm.
