putting the pieces back

what a failed puzzle taught me about faith

playlist to accompany:

It started on a day in September. I can only assume we were suffering from an early semester slump because my roommate Amira suggested we spend the evening watching Pretty Little Liars, our go-to comfort show at the time. However, that night they proposed working on a puzzle while we watched. It seemed harmless enough, so I eagerly agreed. Amira planned to pick up a brand new puzzle from Brand & Noble that day. As we settled in the living room, ready for our 'PLL and Puzzle' session, I noticed the puzzle on the coffee table—a 1000-piece one depicting bunnies, birds, pastries, and candy. I had never tackled a puzzle that big, but I knew there was no chance we’d get very far in the 90 minute episode.  We laughed at the challenge ahead of us and acknowledged it would take us more than one episode of PLL to finish, but it would be a fun activity nonetheless. So we began, zero plans, just vibes, and Spencer, Aria, Hannah, and Emily in the background going through something probably insane on PLL. Setting aside the edge pieces and putting them together first—nope. Sorting the pieces into piles based on color—also no. We decided to freehand the hold thing, it's what felt right at the time, but in hindsight the least effective strategy. We quickly realized how huge the puzzle was going to be immediately, so with permission from our other two roommates, it was decided that our living room coffee table would be out of commission for the next couple weeks and home to the bunnies. 

the puzzle in question

It became the centerpiece of our apartment and the main activity at nearly every party, dinner, or movie hosted in our room. The slowly growing mural did not stop the coffee table from being used as a seat, a coaster, a place mat, and practically anything else. The puzzle saw spilled drinks and dropped crumbs. Pieces found themselves scattered in the hallway of our building, on the top of the fridge, and even in the washing machine. Countless hands had caressed its pieces searching for the right matches. What we at first thought would be a few weeks of work and a few episodes of PLL, turned into a 4 month long  excursion. As time went on, fatigue set in, and our enthusiasm dwindled. Morale reached its lowest point, and our progress came to a frustrating halt. More pieces found in odd spots only discouraged us further. 

By December, as the semester neared its end, our regular guests started to wonder why the puzzle had ceased to make any progress. The fallen pieces had become fidget toys, absentmindedly picked up and played with. We longed for a coffee table that wasn't cluttered with scattered puzzle pieces and partially completed images of bunnies eating pastries.

the unfortunate progress

So it was collectively decided that once we returned from winter break in January, the puzzle would be evicted from its home on the coffee table. When January came, the bunnies and pastries were dismantled, thrown back into the box, and to make sure we cleared the room of any bad juju from our failed mission, the box was subsequently thrown down the trash chute, never to be touched again.

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It probably shouldn't take 4 months to half finish a 1000 piece puzzle. But days pass faster than one off pieces can be joined, and even faster than they can be found hiding behind the fridge or between the couch cushions; faster than friends can come together and haphazardly contribute to the cause over conversation and movies. 

The more days that pass, the further away the big picture feels, the more you start to resent the unanchored sections, and the more you start to miss your coffee table. 

Ultimately, you cannot solve a puzzle unless: A. you have all the pieces and B. you put them together. It seems simple, but faith can so quickly manifest into fear, fear which has the power to paralyze us. This leaves progress in a standstill and you wondering why everything feels mismatched and out of place.

Life is about the intricate pieces that compose it, and while the big picture holds significance, it's the individual components that truly matter. Without learning which pieces fit and which don't, without creating the edge and filling the center, the big picture remains incomplete. To have faith in the grand vision, we must first have faith in the individual pieces that contribute to its realization. Every day, every connection, every breath is a commitment to finding, and putting the pieces together.

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In Judges 8:33-35, we find a parallel to this message. After the death of Gideon, who served as a spiritual leader to the Israelites, they swiftly turned away from their faith and rebuilt their idols. Sometimes we fixate solely on God's promises instead of following and having faith in the path God is leading us on. Like the Israelites in this chapter, we only have faith when we have a reason to—when outlooks are favorable, when the promise is hopeful and enticing, when we have others to hold us accountable. We get so caught up in the potential rewards, that we fail to think about how we will get there, and as a result we lose faith in the process. Faith has to extend beyond the outcome and through the journey of getting there. By shifting our focus from the reward to the process, we can cultivate a steadfast faith that remains constant.

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I recently traveled to Europe by myself, my first major trip that I planned on my own. You always hear all the cliches about graduating college, going backpacking, and finding yourself while aboard. And since I'm a sentimental romantic,  I've always looked for these sorts of life changing experiences, or words that once heard or felt will make everything click. Before I traveled, in the back of my head I thought, ‘what if this trip is mine?’, only half believing that it could be. During my journey, I realized that this trip wouldn't be the miraculous "aha" moment I had envisioned, where everything would effortlessly fall into place and I would feel a sense of wholeness because those moments don't exist. Instead, the trip would give me an opportunity to seek out the missing pieces of my personal puzzle, to actively work towards completing it.

Life is like a big, ever-growing jigsaw puzzle spread out on a coffee table that's too small to hold its picture. Our job is to go out into the world, in search of missing pieces, find bigger tables to move to when we outgrow our current, and put the pieces together.