Life’s puzzles
My little 2 year old brother RJ has one of those foam puzzles, you know those mat things you can put together? In the early mornings, before anyone else in the house has stirred, he wakes up to play, and goes to his floor puzzle, taking it apart and then putting it back together, over and over again.
This morning I woke up early to have a chat with mom, who was also watching my little brother at work. He was so intense about it, and everytime he came to a piece that he thought couldn’t fit, he’d bawl loudly. When he was nearly done the whole thing, he sat in the tight space and tried to fit the last peice on. But because he was sitting on the floor where the final piece would have gone, he couldn’t get it to fit without breaking up another corner of the mat.
This made him even more frustrated, and again he yelped, as if in pain. We half-laughed at him, seeing how futile his crying was, and how easy it would be to fit the peice back in its place, if he could just step back and “look at the bigger picture”.
I think I am quite like my two-year old when it comes to the puzzle of life. My tempermental moods are like his frustration fits… sometimes I get so worried about how the peices are going to go together. I’m sure God must have His laughs at me when He sees the futility of my frustrated efforts to do it all by myself.
Mom came to little RJ’s rescue, and told him to move over so that there would be room for the last peice to fit. He scooted his little self over, and put the foam in place, still very intensely–as if it were all his idea, of course. Seeing him this morning made me wonder how many times, in my attempts to make everything “fit” on my own, does God look down from His loving point of view and say, “Oh, please, will you stop your bawling! Just move over!”