My friend Samuel is three, and he loves puzzles. One of his favorites contains four puzzles that fit into one wooden box. He assembles the puzzles in lighting speed. He has memorized each of the pieces and where they go.
When Samuel invites me to join him, we dump out the pieces. I begin sorting them according to the shape stamped on the back: circles are for the fire truck, squares are for the school bus. He doesn't need the stamps as cue. He knows, but he invites me to participate anyway.
I don't like puzzles. Maybe I don't like puzzles because life feels like a box of puzzle pieces that have been dumped out. Sitting in a heap, we aren't always sure where to begin. Sure the edges are easy, but after that, all bets are off. Efforts fail. We let one another down. We ask for more than people can give. We have to turn each piece over to look for the stamp, and even then, we often don't get it right. Sometimes the nightfall at the end of the day can bring peace, and other times we find ourselves holding pieces that don't seem to fit.
Julian of Norwich was an English mystic who lived 600 years ago. After a major illness, she devoted her life to prayer. In one of her writings, she penned, "All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well." She explains that these words came from God to her. Maybe they came on a day when the pieces didn't fit.
When God looks at the pile of pieces, God doesn't see chaos. God knows the purpose, the plan, and the path. God knows, and God sees. God sees each child fumbling with the pieces. God sees each heart's honest attempt, and God says, "All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well."
Nightfall may not bring peace because the pieces fit, but peace can come in the words of our Comforter, "All will be well, and all will be well, and all manner of things shall be well."
No comments:
Post a Comment