Puzzled

 

As we get older, we start to wonder why we were put here. What is the meaning behind our senseless and painfully monotonous routines? We are constantly looking for purpose and meaning and we do not want to waste one single, precious second that we have left. It is a thought that is almost too painful to tackle. At some point in our lives, we attempt to solve that one unsolvable equation; Why am I here? We seek out the “a-ha” moments. We all know that one perfect person who tells a story of saving someone’s life or delivering a baby, and they always say, “It was at that very moment, that I realized why I was put on this Earth.” We find ourselves envious of those people. If only we could obtain that assurance. A few months ago, I spent a full two weeks trying to put together a large puzzle. The puzzle was a picture of the city of London and all that she stands for. A thousand pieces of small cardboard would be converted into the London Bridge, the clock tower, apartments, the official flag, trains, and soldiers standing watch over a city street. After a grueling task of matching up stormy sky pieces that looked disturbingly alike, I noticed something amiss. I had five pieces of the puzzle left that would finally allow me to finish the London puzzle, but alas, I had six empty spots. The empty spot was unfortunately directly in the middle of my gorgeous yet daunting puzzle. Right where a payphone should be, was my wooden dining room table peeking through. Of course, in a last-ditch effort, I looked under the table, under the hutch that holds my grandmother’s china dishes, under my beloved Crosley record player, and then I spotted my dog. My sweet Labradoodle had more than likely, ingested my cardboard payphone. Normally, I would rip the puzzle apart, put it back in the box, and throw it into the cabinet that holds the puzzles that had once been completed and the lonely board games that have been collecting dust year by year. But not this time. This time, I glued the puzzle that was missing the ever so obvious piece that was mocking me, and I hung it on the wall. I did it because the puzzle is still beautiful, even with the missing piece. What makes the puzzle mesmerizing is London Bridge and how she compliments the stormy sky, the clock tower that is counting down the seconds for everyone beneath it, and the gorgeous train as it enters the city likely carrying beloved mothers and fathers home from work and into the arms of their families. That is what our purpose is. It is all the little things that are happening in the background. It is not one big idea that we have to search for, it is in a thousand little things that we do without realizing that we are doing them. It is my daughter calling me to vent or ask for advice, it is getting a boat for my son so that we can spend countless summer days fishing together, it is in girl trips with my best friend, and it is in laughing with my husband about absolutely nothing. Those moments are our London Bridges and clock towers. The payphone is missing, but we can still hear it ringing. We do not have to waste valuable time searching for it. The one missing piece of the puzzle has nothing to do with the clarity of the full illustration. It is in the other nine hundred and ninety-nine pieces that we find our purpose.