I’ve learned a lot from doing jigsaw puzzles lately.  It is a way to see my life.  From a box of 1000 pieces, I sort out edges and colors.  Slowly I create the perimeter–limits of my human form.  I can concentrate on certain images, like career, relationship, and a garden.  With this piece and that color, tools and information, the picture of the day takes shape. 

Sometimes I search and search for that one piece that seems to be a keystone, but it is not to be found. I’ve learned to let go a bit, start another section, or it is time for a break.  Eventually, no matter how much I’ve scoured the pieces without seeing it–it is there right in front of me.  Letting go of the grip on what “should be right here” again teaches me that only when I release can I succeed.

It can be puzzling, life.  All those pieces and images, halfway created, and then I sit and stare.  What is the use?  Why bother?  It is just a puzzle, a life.  It all of a sudden looks as common as a patch of grass.

But grass cracks concrete.  I pull the passion from the blue jay screaming on my fence in the back yard.  I lean on the love that is sent to me each day, surfing on the certainty of the table beneath my life’s puzzle.  My essential story that She searches and holds me like a puzzle piece lost in a dark corner of the floor.  I am Hers and She is mine.