Do you have a ‘puzzle piece’ story?
We had completed it the day prior, following three days of toiling over it. I stared down at the vacancy left by two puzzle pieces, wood from the table beneath peaked through. I could feel a frustration slowly growing.
We have learned to adjust to the quarantined life. I’ve worked from home 24/7. Ainsley is finishing kindergarten virtually. Teresa, who is nearly 38 weeks pregnant with our twins has spent her third trimester as a teacher, wife, and mom with weekly doctor check-ups and the treasured evening walk her sole reprieve from the lockdown.
We completed three puzzles the first few weeks of staying home. The third, a sunrise over Mt. Haleakalā in Maui, struck a nostalgic chord for Teresa and I. Nearly nine years ago I proposed to her atop that mountain – a story for another post.
It was a nice distraction. Our plan was to frame the puzzles and put them up in my former home office (now the play room/guest room/home office). But before I could mount it we lost the two pieces.
Getting frustrated about puzzle pieces is silly. I get it. But I’m not always rational and sometimes small things are maddening (just me?). We looked around for the missing pieces, but to no avail. Ainsley admitted she may have knocked them off. My best guess, our dog made quick work of them.
I looked at Teresa and asked a question that ended up being much more profound than I intended in the moment, “Do we tear it down or do we still put it up and this is just part of its story.”
“It’s part of its story,” she said smiling.
Instantly my attitude changed. A few years from now I will look at that puzzle on the wall and I won’t feel a bit of frustration. I won’t care that it’s missing two pieces. Instead, those missing pieces will bring fond memories of how our family grew closer during this pandemic.
What made the puzzle imperfect also made it uniquely valuable.
It was an important lesson and the genesis of a phrase I will embrace, it’s part of the story.
What’s true with the puzzle is true for all of us.
Sometimes the imperfections in our lives, the parts that aren’t what we envisioned – they can serve as a reminder, pointing us back to the stories of our lives. They mark memories of the people and seasons of life that bring depth and meaning to who we are.
So I’m officially trying to ingrain that phrase into my vocabulary, a quick retort when things don’t go the way I want them to – it’s part of the story.
TouNil 