Puzzles and Purpose


Driving back from a visit with my beautiful five year old
today, I thought about the first time i met her. Well, when I say I met her, it was more like I got a glimpse of her. A few years before she was born, i went through a time of pondering my personal life puzzle. I was enquiring from God won how all the pieces fit together, if some missing and what should I do with my life? I was in a dismal relationship with no prospects, and I was dissatisfied with work too.

It was then I saw a clip of the life of a beautiful girl, dynamic, strong, intelligent and captivating. It wasn't a clip on YouTube. It was more like MindTube.
A vision, or a dream maybe. Suddenly I got a feeling that this was my child I was watching. My daughter, a glimpse into her future, as a gift from God. He told me her name. He also said that she was destined to make a difference, to change the world, to break limitations. This added more pieces to an already confusing puzzle.

The failing relationship took a turn when my partner announced that she was pregnant. Divine intervention, I thought, and immediately said, Her name will be Izabella. The mom-to-be pointed out that the baby was a tiny little embryo, and she wasn't aware of the gender. I've already met her, I mumbled under my breath.

I sacrificed some pieces from the puzzle to make our combined puzzle work. The relationship was
difficult and tense. Slowly God was moved out, so was many pieces that fuelled my passions. I think we both made sacrifices to be together that we sorely regret. Little did I know that this sacrifice would come back to haunt me.

The bitter-sweet day of Izabella's birth was awash of tension and anxiety about labour
 complications, mixed with the overwhelming confusion of shock and excitement, meeting this little person for the first time. There was something familiar about her face and about her voice that gave me quiet assurance that God had delivered. Once again I heard the voice of God. A dream? an audible voice? I don't know. He said I must teach Izabella three things: balance, respect and love.

The miracle of birth was not enough to bring our relationship back from destruction. When cracks turned into canyons, I desperately clung to the vanishing hope of a happy family born out of a healthy marriage. The puzzle hit the floor bursting into thousands of little pieces. Sweeping them all together, in a last minute attempt to rescue anything that was left of the relationship, brought the dirt and dust bunnies from the recesses of hurt and rejection. The dirt that surfaced put an end to the hopes of the whole family puzzle. Something in me died. I gave up on happiness, I mocked purpose, and turned my back on God completely, for failing me.

Time has passed, and once again I ponder the puzzle. Its different this time. I am cautious about the pieces I add to the picture. God doesn't have a puzzle piece, and there is a strange "teaspoon" bit that has got me scratching my head. Some things have stayed the same. The wife puzzle piece is still there, but it has a red "X" on it now. She is the mother of my child, and will remain a part of the puzzle forever more. I am grateful for the role she played in the delivery of His promise. But that is where it ends.

The Izabella piece is present, of course. What a beautiful, intelligent and connected child she is. I am so proud of her. In many ways she has already rocked the universe. I didn't realize at the time of the promise that the world she would change is mine, and the limitations she would break are the ones imposed on her by her parents divorce.

The strange teaspoon piece has taken on a life of its own. Its painted with the co lour of purpose. That means I have got an idea of what I am supposed to be doing with this puzzle. I have brought back the pieces of passion, you know, the bits in your life that make it worth while getting up in the mornings.

Oh yes. God. I decided He shouldn't have a piece of the puzzle anymore. Instead, God is now the backing board I build the puzzle on. Every day He wins me over a little, by bringing back to life the parts in me that perished. I haven't finished the puzzle, and I don't suppose I will until the day I die. I like the part of the picture already completed. Its sunny, with acceptance and love, and the possibility of family is showing up in the pieces still laying around.

I haven't got the box for the puzzle, so I am not sure of what the end product looks like. I do know this: I am careful in selecting bits that fit in to make me who I am supposed to be. It's a start, or at my age, a re-start, and its just... well... better! And I am happy!

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