Games We Play

Growing up, there often were times when there were no other kids to play with. I had to find ways to entertain myself. Reading was usually a good choice, but I soon ran out of books, even those favorites, read and reread. So I would move onto other things: jigsaw puzzles, coloring books or maze puzzles. I could spend hours on these favorite pastimes.

Assigning vivid colors to my make-believe world was soothing until fingers clutching the Crayola began to cramp. I seldom came across a maze I couldn’t solve quickly, often without more than one or two false starts or  dead ends. A jigsaw was more of a challenge though. A bit of mystery as to the finished product, much diligent concentration to make sense out of the colored cardboard bits, even with the small picture on the boxtop as a clue. Success was determined by two things from me:  stamina and unwavering focus for long sessions subject to the fear of the unknown—were any puzzle pieces missing--which I wouldn’t learn until after hours of work doomed to failure.

Life is like that some seventy years later. I’m deep in the maze still and can’t fathom when and where my travels will be complete. Following the guide the Toymaker left on the box top of my heart has enabled me to fit much of my picture together. Of course, looking back I found some ill-fitting pieces I tried to force in, which actually didn’t belong to this picture and had to be removed.  At a very young age I found out what the missing piece at my center was and that took away any doubt that I would eventually successfully complete the picture formed by combining all the random bits of my life with its key piece, no longer missing: Jesus. With that in place, the entire result cannot be other than beautiful.