A Perfect Fit

The puzzle is almost complete.

I am down to my last few pieces, triumphantly connecting them in record time.

The picture is coming into view.  But then, as my eyes flit back and forth between the empty spaces I have left and the remaining puzzle pieces, irritation takes root in my brain.

It doesn't look like there are enough pieces left.

Shaking my head, I'm sure it's got to be an optical illusion.  But as each one finds its home, it begins to look as though I was right the first time.

And as the last puzzle piece I have fills its void, I give a heavy sigh and groan with great annoyance.

I'm missing a piece.

Just one.

The gaping hole in the center of the picture is glaringly obvious, and despite the fact that I've expertly placed 999 other pieces, it's that one--that one--that's missing that stands out.

I do a thorough scan of the table, the chairs, the floor, thinking surely it has fallen somewhere conspicuous.  But my quest proves futile--I come up empty-handed.

Sigh.

I suppose I could leave it be.

But the hole narrows its stare, and I immediately throw my hands up, knowing that it's completely out of the question.

I have to do something about that empty space.

Maybe I could just cover it up.  Hide it, so that no one will know the difference.

There's a five dollar bill in my pocket, and I snap it, making it crisp, and I inhale the intoxicating aroma of material worth.

I slide it atop the open space, but instantly, it is obvious how ridiculous it looks.

Sure the dollar bill is worth something.  And it did cover the hole, so that it's invisible to the naked eye.  But I still knew that the emptiness was there.

I clutch the currency in my hand before returning it to my pocket.

I need something smaller, I think.  Something that will fit in the empty space instead of just over it.  I reach for the ring on my right hand and nestle it snugly in place of the rogue puzzle piece.

But no, that's silly as well.  Now there's something in the space, but it isn't the right size; emptiness still speckles the spot.  Sure it's pretty.  But it doesn't fit here.

What could possibly fill every nook and cranny in place of the puzzle piece?

Water could.  I run to the kitchen and grab a cupful and return to sprinkle it into the empty space.  

But no, it's wrong, too.  Physically something is filling the void, but it's transparent and fickle.  It still highlights the emptiness and quickly seeps away through the jigsaw riverbeds.

I look at the mess I've made and groan once more.  Again, I think of just letting the space be, since nothing else seems to do the trick.

But without the last piece, the picture will never be complete, and the work of placing all of those 999 pieces is in vain without the final one.

And really, there is only one thing that can fill that void.

God created each of us as sorts of unique jigsaw puzzles, if you will.  Who we are is composed of many pieces specifically cut and crafted to contribute to the final picture that is you or that is me.

And the Creator fashioned each of us with a specific void that can only be filled by one thing.

It can't be filled with money or things or success or relationships.

Nothing.  Nothing.  NOTHING will fit except the Lord.

And silly us, we often seem to think that we can outsmart Him.  Of course it feels wonderful to be blessed financially or career-wise and the like.  But if that emptiness hasn't been sealed with His presence, you can try and have excessive amounts of everything else, and the void will still be there.

It won't work because He designed it not to.

Try if you wish (and we all will at some point), but you will make a mess and miss out on the beautiful picture He meant for you to be.

And the beauty of it is, He isn't hard to find.  But the first step is recognizing that there is no substitute for the hole He has intentioned Himself to fill.

Perhaps your life won't seem quite like a mess without Him, but it will never be whole.

And if you have filled that void with the Lord already, the rest of your puzzle pieces will fall right where they need to be in a matter of time.

The picture is coming into view--can you see it?

But is there something missing?  There's only One Piece that is fashioned with those edges...those colors...that size...

and He longs to complete you, if only you'll allow Him in.

A Series of Unfortunate Events. And Ugly Sweaters.

If I had a dollar for every instance this past week where I'd either muttered or pensively thought-bubbled the phrase, "This isn't fair!!", I might have never needed to try my hand at Powerball.

It wasn't just a bad day, it was a bad week.  One that left me feeling afraid to walk to my car at the end of it all, fearing God was snickering with a land-mine hidden behind my rear driver's wheel.

Can I say that here without any judgment?

Is it ever appropriate to blame God?  Can we blame God when things go unfairly?

I know, I know.  Trials are supposed to be gifts in disguise, blah blah blah blah blah.

But at this point, all I can picture is God sitting across from me, biting His nails in anticipation (if He has them), waiting for me to unwrap some plain-looking box He's placed on my lap.

Of COURSE this is exciting because--OOH!! Who wouldn't want a gift from the King?!  Surely HE knows how to pick out a present.

But I unwrap it, and it's ugly.  I mean reeeaaallllly really ugly--like JNCO jeans ugly--and He erupts in joy, no longer able to keep quiet, yelling: "SURPRISE!!! Do you just love it?! I call it 'patience!'"

And I'm all, "Ohhhhhhh, it's greeeeaaaaat," all the while wondering what in His green earth He was thinking when He picked this out for me.  And also thinking if there is some Holy Customer Service counter where I can politely exchange it for something else--you know, like a perfect body, no sickness in the world, world peace...or whatever's on sale.

"Go ahead!" He squeals in delight.  "Try it on!"

Cheeks hurting from the fake smile stretched painfully across my face, I yank it over my head and sneak my arms through each side.

The fabric is HORRIBLE.  It's itchy and annoying, and instantly, it's like my nerves are bare and being grated upon.  What the heck is this made of anyway?!

I check the tag:

-25% bumper-to-bumper traffic when needing to be somewhere quickly

-15% the power going out on a night before having to wake up early for work

-35% a fridge door that's been left slightly ajar for 9 hours in order to spoil a week's worth of food

and 

-5% whatever Donald Trump's hair is made of.

Dry clean only.

Yikes.

I scratch violently behind my left shoulder blade.  My gosh, why would He get this for me?  It's like He wants me to be uncomfortable!

"It's uh, it's nice, but uh, to be honest, God? I'm not sure it's really my style..."

"You look PERFECT!" He says, missing the last half of my last sentence.  "And can you believe this hasn't sold out yet?! Think of the trend you'll start!"

But I frown, overcome with frustration and disappointment.

"God, I don't like this at all.  Can't I have something instead?  I saw a girl walking by with some soft-looking silky thing on earlier today--I hear it's made of 100% convenience!"

He laughs.  "That style certainly looks soft, but it's a knock-off.  People get suckered into buying it because it looks nice, but once they wear it around, they end up becoming dissatisfied with it and returning it."

I snarl and turn my face downward, prompting Him to pull me up and over into His lap.

"It's just...this isn't what I asked for at all.  I mean, I'm a pretty good kid of Yours, right? I don't get into trouble, I try to do what You tell me...mostly...but sometimes it feels like You're on a mission to make me uncomfortable.  Why?  Why me?  Why so often?  I don't want to say this because I know You love me and all, but...sometimes it feels like You must love me less.  Even hate me.  Because You can make things so hard."

He smiles.  "I understand how you're feeling.  But I also understand what you can't.  This patience is a gift, not a punishment.  I know it isn't your style.  It isn't most people's style when they first try it on.  And while it may be uncomfortable, it's incredibly becoming on you--on whomever the wearer may be. I know that right now you couldn't possibly dream of appreciating this gift, but the more you wear it and go with it, the less uncomfortable it will become and the more you will look like Me.  I promise you, all of my gifts are good--the best! And there will be plenty of times when I will gift you with something much softer, but today, this is your gift.  And I hope you'll begin to see it as just that."

And so on a week filled with a series of events fit for a Lemony Snicket story, I have to hit the pause button on how I feel and consider the lesson--the gift--that lurks behind my current understanding.

I couldn't say it better than Morgan Freeman and Lauren Graham do in a scene in the movie Evan Almighty.  Graham is unknowingly sitting with God in human form, picking at her second plate of fried food, which is meant to numb the pain of her seemingly psychotic husband building an ark like Noah.  She explains that prior to his evident "mental breakdown," all she wanted was more family time, and that this was certainly not what she had in mind.

Freeman then explains:

Let me ask you something.  If someone prays for patience, you think God gives them patience?  Or does he give them the opportunity to be patient?  If he prayed for courage, does God give him courage, or does he give him opportunities to be courageous?  If someone prayed for the family to be closer, do you think God zaps them with warm fuzzy feelings, or does he give them opportunities to love each other?

Some of the most important gifts He gives us aren't handed to us.  He won't grant us the immediate muscle, but He'll stock us with the weights and instructions for how to use them.

Six months ago, I met with a personal trainer after months of not being able to lose some stubborn weight.  She didn't put me on a 3-, 10-, or 21-day fast or cleanse or fad diet. (I had tried those anyway.  They didn't work.)  She told me it would take hard work and self control and a lot of time before I would see the results I wanted.  The weight came off slowly, but once it came off, if I fudged on my diet or exercise every now and then, I saw that the weight didn't return.  The results were lasting, but only because the work had been legitimate.

And when it comes to something like patience, the truth is no different.  It takes recognizing the groundwork, the tools we've been given, and putting them together to enjoy the gift that lies beyond them.

So try not to fret (and I'll try not to either) when things just don't seem fair or don't go the way you planned.  It isn't a punishment, so I'm told.  It's an opportunity.  A gift waiting to be brought to life.

Go ahead and try on your ugly patience sweater, your courage sweater, your endurance sweater--whatever fashion line He's entrusted to you for such a time as this.  Embrace whatever it's made of and make it your style.  Make it a part of who you are.

After all, it becomes you. 

"Therefore, as God's chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness, and patience." ~Colossians 3:12

"Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up." ~Galatians 6:9