Beauty on the Backroads

Stories of grace for life's unexpected turns

memories

An unfinished puzzle

The kids and I were playing with puzzles a few nights ago. Puzzles hold a special place in my heart. I remember spending weekend evenings with my grandparents playing board games and putting puzzles together. They would often have thousand-piece puzzles partially assembled on top of the bumper pool table and we’d take a few minutes or several every time we passed to try to place another piece.

On our honeymoon, Phil and I decided to buy puzzles as our souvenirs of the places we visited so that in the years to come, we could reminisce while spending quality time together. (Five and a half years and two kids later, most of those puzzles are still in their original packaging. I hold out hope for retirement, or at least a time when the kids won’t scatter the pieces to the floor.)

So, we’re putting puzzles together, the 4 1/2 year old, the 3-year-old and me, and we’re sorting the outside pieces of a Tinkerbell puzzle only to discover that we’re missing some of the outside pieces. I don’t know about you but when a puzzle piece is missing, it sort of drives me crazy. And if it’s an outside piece, I almost can’t go on with the puzzle.

With only a little bit of searching, we found the missing outside pieces and continued to put the puzzle together. (Correction: It was mostly me putting the puzzle together. Isabelle was handing me pieces and trying a few of her own while Corban was pulling all the other puzzles out of the bin and lining up which ones would be next.)

puzzle

© Dana Rothstein | Dreamstime.com

As we neared the end, we noticed another missing piece. It was nowhere to be found, so we “finished” the puzzle and put it back in the box.

Life, right now, feels like an unfinished puzzle. Some days it feels like a million-piece two-sided puzzle with missing pieces and no picture to guide us. I feel like God is watching us try to figure it out and isn’t giving us any help.

This is not true, though. I know that. God isn’t cruel. He’s good. And patient. And loving. Things that I’m not. He isn’t trying to frustrate us, although He may try to frustrate our plans for His better plans. We’re learning through this, even if the lessons are hard and well, frankly, they suck.

My husband has a job in Lancaster, which for us, is the first piece of the puzzle. And it IS a good thing. The commute, and the gas, is wearing on me. And the being without a car more often than not. And trying to entertain the kids for hours and hours and hours on end without losing my mind or patience. And still needing to ask our parents for help with rent and bills because my husband hasn’t reached full-time hours yet.

I am truly, truly grateful for what we have. We will not end up on the street. We will not go hungry. We have so, so much to be thankful for, and a house full of stuff we could give to others in need.

Some days, I wish it wasn’t so hard. That we’d get a glimpse of the picture. That another piece would fall into place.

I know people who have framed completed puzzles as artwork. I think that’s a neat idea. And my hope is that some day, we’ll be able to put this puzzle of life on display as one of many instances of God’s handiwork in our lives. Of a beautiful, wonderful picture of His grace.

“I will praise you, O LORD, with all my heart;  I will tell of all your wonders.” (Psalm 9:1)

A crash course in letting go

Two weeks ago, I had a plan. A blog post every day of the week because I felt I had so much to say and I was learning some things worth sharing.

Then this happened.

The rains came down and the floods came up. Thirty inches of water in our basement turned our world upside down. Maybe that’s a little dramatic. Others have it worse. We are blessed. And God is good. I don’t doubt either of those things for a minute.

But life is, let’s say, overwhelming at the moment.

What started as an inch of water quickly escalated after the town’s leaders decided to cut power to the power station when it flooded. Our sump pump, which was diligently working while we slept, stopped when the power did. Thus, the indoor swimming pool in our basement.

We didn’t lose as much as we could have nor anything we consider extremely valuable. But loss is loss and it hurts nonetheless. Perhaps the biggest loss I discovered this week was all of my high school and college yearbooks. This didn’t matter as much to my husband, and I’m not sure why it matters so much to me. Nostalgia. Memories. These are the things that get me in trouble sometimes because I hold on to things that should have long been thrown away.

We’re still going through stuff, drying it out and finding ways to get rid of it. We’ve been collectors for too long. Clutter seems to follow us. I’m always saving things for later. (Like the mound of empty cardboard boxes that were in the basement for our eventual move next summer. Gone.) 

God, it would seem, helped us clear things out sooner than we’d hoped. (I’m not suggesting He caused the flood to punish us or anyone else. Just want to get that out there.)

Where I once stockpiled, I now find myself with an urge to rid our house of everything we’re not using RIGHT NOW. I have more than three years worth of kids clothes that will be finding a new home in the next several months, and even though it’s been years since my daughter wore some of her things, I still feel pangs of guilt as I toss them into a “to sell” tote. (I’m convinced guilt is a by-product of giving birth to children. I’ve never felt so guilty about everyday actions the way I have since becoming a mother. Is anyone else with me on this?)

My husband and I have talked about the desire to live more simply, but until now our actions haven’t matched our words. It’s still hard to give things away or throw things away, thinking we might need it again someday. Even with the kids clothes. We’re not 100 percent sure we’re not going to have more kids, but we have no immediate plans for another one. Besides, kids clothes are abundant and grandparents love to shop. (At least our kids’ do.)

We have much. And what we give away could easily be replaced in the future.

The Bible tells us to store up treasures in heaven where moth and rust cannot destroy and thieves cannot break in and steal. We are learning the reality of this principle. The reason so many of our stored items were in the basement is because a year ago, we had a mold problem in the attic and had to move everything out of the attic to the basement so the mold could be removed. We never moved our stuff back upstairs because we didn’t think we’d need to.

The water line

Treasures in heaven — where mold and flood cannot destroy.

After the fire department pumped us out.

Charlie Sheen made popular the idea of “winning.” I still don’t get it. Our family is experiencing a season of “losing.” At least in the earthly sense.

Elsewhere in the Bible, Jesus tells his followers that those who lose and give up for Him will gain in the long run. I’ve heard it called  “winning through losing.”

It’s not as glamorous as it might sound. Some days, it really stinks. My hope is that because of this, we’ll be better off.

Not wealthy in goods, but rich in what really matters.