November 7, 2011
Mom is neutropenic (has very low white blood cells), therefore is susceptible to infection / illness. She’s on precautions that state she stay away from any person who is sick or who has been around sickness, stay away from crowds, stay away from children (who carry germs like a Petri-dish), not eat any fresh fruits or veggies, take her temperature daily and report anything over 100.4. So far so good. She’s on quarantine. She hates the fact that she hasn’t been able to get out, and states that she’s fine…just bored.
So Bob, Katie, Jordan and I decided to go buy some board games this weekend and take them to her. We also bought puzzles. A 2000 piece Sistine Chapel puzzle, or as mom calls it “the expert-rated puzzle”.
As we started to assemble the puzzle I watched everyone. First we collected the edge pieces and put together to frame the puzzle. Easy enough. Then we each tried to decide where to focus next. Katie seems to be the puzzle genius. She has a method, a vision, a desire and drive to knock out sections at a time. She’s pretty obsessed with it. (Sunday morning before church I called mom to see how she was feeling and Katie was already at her house working on the puzzle)
Paula, on the other hand, says that she’s not a ‘puzzler’. It doesn’t hold her interest. Katie asked her with anticipation in her voice, “Once it’s started, doesn’t it just make you want to finish it though?” Paula says no. She could walk away and not come back.
Mom, is sucked in by it, but can’t seem to put it all together, says, “Everything runs together, it hurts my eyes when I stare at it for too long, but I can’t keep away from it.”
Haley, like a typical 16 year old, started to get involved then decided that there was something better on TV in the other room.
Dad just walks into the room occasionally and looks at us, “You’re not finished yet?” then laughs and walks away.
I’m somehow a mix of all of them.
This puzzle will take a while to finish. It will take dedication. It will take desire. It will take us picking up these little pieces over and over again and twisting them, pushing them into place, and experiencing the thrill of victory when a piece fits or the agony of defeat when it doesn’t.
My life feels like “an expert-rated puzzle” right now.
How do I put it all together? Am I constantly twisting the pieces of my life to see if it all fits? Can I throw some of these pieces away? Or must I squeeze and push them into the picture that will become my life?
Hmmmm….puzzling. I still trust you God. Puzzled, but trusting.