I’ve always enjoyed jigsaw puzzles. There’s something about putting all the pieces together that just intrigues me. It’s somewhat of a challenge, but when I connect the right piece to the inside of the puzzle I just feel a sense of accomplishment. Then I move on to looking for the next one.

Over the years I’ve done a lot of them, but never knew what to do with them after they were completed. After all, it just isn’t right to tear them apart again and put them back in the box, all disconnected again.

And for my fellow jigsaw puzzle fanatics, don’t you just hate it when you get near the end and discover there’s a piece or two MISSING!? For a true puzzle fan, that’s the worst!

Fortunately I’ve discovered there are jigsaw puzzle apps for my iPad, and I can even upload my own pictures on them. It’s actually like jigsaw puzzle heaven…and there are never any pieces getting lost. And you can work them as many times as you like, and in any number of combinations of pieces, depending on how much of a challenge you want to give yourself; how complex you want your puzzle to be.

What does this have to do with today’s blog you may ask?

Well…..

One evening when I was working on a puzzle it occurred to me that we can easily be compared to one of these jigsaw puzzles. A very complex one, especially the older we get.

We’re each a very complex being, made up of a lot of individual parts that have to fit together. And fit perfectly. We cannot be complete without missing even one part, no matter now tiny that part may be. Just like a jigsaw puzzle when there’s just one more part to insert in place; without that part correctly in place there’s a glaring hole that prevents our work from becoming a finished project.

But we usually don’t realize we have all the pieces we need to be complete. We always seem to think we need just one more thing to make us complete, a finished product. A different job. A different house. A new car. A new love interest because the current one is getting boring. Another pair of shoes when our closet is already full. A new cell phone even though the one we have is only a year old, because we have to have the latest and greatest.

And that will make our puzzle complete.

Until we actually get that thing we just had to have. And discover there’s still a piece missing. Or so we think. And the search begins again.

But even though we think there’s something missing, the Master Puzzlemaker who designed us didn’t leave even one part out. Not even a tiny one. The parts are all there, and not able to be lost; we just may not have them arranged together just right.

When you’re working that jigsaw puzzle there are a lot of possible places to put the pieces. You may think you’ve found just the right place, but that piece just won’t quite fit properly. You try to force it, but what happens? It pops right out.

Puzzle shapes are similar in every puzzle. It’s the image on them that’s different; that makes it even more difficult to figure out where they go, because sometimes those images on those pieces seem to fit in several places.

In our own situation, we can change what we look like, how we dress, or where we live. But all of the pieces of our lives still have to fit together.

There’s only one way to make all the pieces fit together; to make that puzzle into YOU. And that’s by looking at yourself…really looking. Looking at who you are as a person, and not at the things you possess. Your material possessions are not who you are.

You may think there are pieces of your life that are missing, fallen out of that puzzle box, but those pieces are what’s found inside of you. They aren’t material possessions that can get lost or stolen, but who you really are. Your faith, your beliefs. How you treat people; your care and concern for others; setting an example for those around you by your actions and how you live your life. Those actions and similar traits are the most important pieces of the jigsaw puzzle that is your life.

You may not even know all of the pieces are there; you may not recognize them. They may even be somewhat out of place. But without them being where they belong your puzzle isn’t complete.

But how do you figure out where those puzzle pieces are supposed to go?

That’s where it gets tricky; a lot trickier than those actual jigsaw puzzles. Because it requires looking inside yourself and doing some soul searching. Asking yourself what that misplaced piece is, and then looking for it and putting it where it should be. Where it makes everything complete.

Chances are the hardest part will be figuring out what’s really misplaced in your life, in yourself. That, unfortunately, I can’t help you with.

Only you can answer that question.

But when you do, the puzzle that is you will come together beautifully.

So what does your personal jigsaw puzzle look like?

When you think of a prison, what do you imagine? The stereotypical concrete building with razor wire fences and bars in front of every tiny cell? Where everyone dresses alike and is told what to do and when to do it 24 hours a day?

There are other kinds of prisons, though. All kinds of them. Many of you have been in them. Perhaps many of you still are.

Those are the prisons you put yourself into. Or allow someone or some circumstance to put you in there. And keep you there.

There are no guards preventing your escape. The only person preventing your escape is yourself. You’ve gotten so used to living in that prison, you don’t think you could live any other way.

You honestly don’t realize you’re imprisoned. And that’s the saddest part. Because almost all of the prisoners in a brick and mortar prison know why they’re in there, and when their sentence will end, and they can usually tell you exactly how much longer they’ll be in there. Many of them have attorneys still working on their behalf, filing appeals and/or for parole. There’s light at the end of their tunnel, no matter how far away it may be.

But the prisons we put ourselves into because of our circumstances or our unwillingness or fear of changing our situation….those prisons can put us into a life sentence from which there’s almost no hope of pardon or escape. Our friends and family may give us advice to help us escape; they may give us wise counsel or support to encourage us to move on; they may even provide other creature comforts that we need, but in the end we’re still stuck in that prison of our own making.

Because we’re the only ones who can get ourselves out. We become our own attorney, judge and jury. The problem is, we give ourselves no mercy; only condemnation. As far as we’re concerned we don’t deserve anything better.

We sentence ourselves to these prisons for a variety of reasons. Many times we remain stuck in the past, a victim of someone else’s cruelty or selfish motives. We were treated so badly, that even when we physically escape we’re so caught up in that past victim mentality we can’t seem to put it behind us. And we remain a prisoner of our past.

Or we’re so used to our current unhappy circumstances we can’t seem to find the key to unlock the door that keeps us prisoner. And even when we’re handed the key, and given all the tools to get us out of that prison once and for all, we’re too scared to make the move. Like repeat offenders who keep returning to the prison life they know so well, we just don’t think we can adjust to any other life.

So many other emotions can keep us prisoners in our own mind, and prevent us from walking out and starting over into a new life, filled with the promise we do desperately want. The guilt, depression, anger, bitterness and unforgiveness that’s become our constant cell mate just won’t let us leave them behind. Because they’re not changing, and they won’t let us either.

And we’re stuck in that prison.

Until that day we take a deep breath, look around, and say I’m done with this cell! No more! I’m out of here! I want to live my life in freedom and happiness! And we break free and finally do it!

Sure we’re scared. Like an inmate who’s been released to the outside after years of incarceration. We aren’t sure quite where to start. But we know we don’t want to return to that life again. And once our mind is made up, we plunge ahead to
start that new life.

No, it’s not always easy. It’s scary at times. But the freedom, and actually becoming that person you always wanted to be is so much better than living in a prison of unhappiness and misery.

Right now, I’m handing you the key to unlock that prison door. The key that will help you escape, and help you start again.

It’s called faith. And hope. Self confidence. Determination. And the knowledge that YOU can do this! Sure, you may stumble a bit on the way, but who of us doesn’t? That only adds to our strength.

What prison are you breaking out of?

And what’s keeping you from doing it?

There’s no better time than now.

Because tomorrow may be too late.

Yesterday’s blog discussed the way we handle life changing events…those events that shatter everything in our life, and cause us to basically start our lives over, usually in a sometimes different direction.

 However, my blogs do not always go in the direction I start them out in. And although I liked the way it worked out, this one was a prime example.

 It was actually based on an incident which happened well over ten years ago; one I hadn’t thought about for a while. But as a writer, certain ideas hit me at certain times, and usually the final finished product is a bit different than I thought it would be.

 But it’s important to describe the incident which inspired Part 1 of this blog, because it’s still the basis for what was written. So here we go.

 Several years ago as our daughter was cleaning the house for us, I got a call from her. I could hear in her voice she was upset to say the least.

 “Mom, you know that vase that was on the shelf in the dining room? The brown and yellow one?”

 Yes I knew it. It was my grandmother’s. And probably over a hundred years old.

 “Well…..it fell off the shelf when I was dusting. And…it broke. I’m sorry.” And I knew she was. I could hear it in her voice.

 Not trying to convey how really upset I was over the phone, I told her to sweep up all the pieces and put them in a plastic bag. Every one she could find. Use the dust pan and get all that you can.

 “But Mom, it’s smashed. Most of the pieces are really, really small.”

I cringed. “I don’t care. Just get as many as you can and put them in a bag and l look at it when I get home. It’s ok. It was an accident.” Did I feel that calm??? Absolutely not!!! But I couldn’t tell her. I was very upset. Yes, it was only a thing, but it had been my grandmother’s, and it had been one of her favorites.

 When I got home my worst fears were realized. There were a few larger pieces, but oh, so very many little ones.

 I really didn’t think anything could be done, but I had to try.

 So I called several places trying to find someone who could possibly put the vase back together. And after several tries, the Chrysler Museum here in Norfolk told me about a porcelain restoration specialist who they highly recommended, but couldn’t guarantee he’d take on the job.

I must say I was a bit scared to call the man, but was expectant when he agreed to have us bring over the pieces so he could take a look. I had no idea what to expect.

When we got to his home, he first of all showed us a number of pieces he’d been working on, and several that he’d successfully restored. You couldn’t tell that any of them had ever been messed up. Then I pulled out the bag of pieces and handed it to him. “What about this? Is there any hope?”

He looked at it, opened the bag and pulled out a few of the pieces. Turning them over in his hand, he said, “This is a challenge. Do you have a picture of it?”

I sadly shook my head. “No, I don’t. I wish I did…” I just knew it was hopeless at that point.

“That’s OK,” he said. “I can fix this without a picture. The pieces will come together and they’ll tell me where they belong.”

“But I don’t know if I have them all,” I answered.  “ What will you do then?”

And he turned to me with a look of confidence like I’d never seen before. “It doesn’t matter. It’ll be all right. It’ll be a beautiful piece again. It’ll just take some time. Probably two or three months. You’ll never know it had ever been broken.”

I left the pieces with him, still not totally convinced the vase would ever look anywhere close to what it had been.  But yet, he was a master restorer, and highly recommended, and somehow, I knew it would be all right.

And it was.  I got a call from him two and a half months later that my vase was ready. “It looks wonderful,” he said. “You’ll be happy.”

I was. I couldn’t tell where it had been broken. In fact, it looked better than I remembered it looking. No trace of lines putting together the broken pieces, nor could I tell where he’d had to improvise and insert other pieces to fill in the gaps. It looked even better than before. I was totally amazed. And yes, our daughter was very relieved. And his work was certainly worth what he charged. At the time, to me, it was priceless.

Today that vase sits in a glass cabinet where it cannot be damaged again. Where it’s safe.  And a reminder that we never know what miracles can take place when a master is at work…when we put it in the Master’s hands.

Like that shattered vase, when our lives are shattered, and our dreams crushed beyond what we think can ever be repaired, the Master Restorer is waiting to fix what is wrong.  But unlike my porcelain restorer, the Master Restorer doesn’t charge us for His work. It’s totally free. All we have to do is ask. And be willing to follow His instructions, His leadership. To trust Him.

When we put our faith in our Master Restorer, He will come through, and He will put the pieces back together again.  And the finished product, like my grandmother’s vase, will be even better, even more beautiful, than it was before it was shattered.If your life has been shattered, your dreams crushed, do not give up hope. 

Because restoration is ready and waiting. It will take a while, and it will at times require a lot of faith, and a lot of courage, but in the end, the final result is worth it.

 Like my vase that I never expected to be whole again, your shattered life and shattered dreams can be restored.

What are you waiting for? What do you need to be restored? Don’t waste any more time. Your restoration is waiting for you!

 All you need to do is ask. And receive.

And that’s the story behind yesterday’s blog.

There are victims and there are survivors.

There are those who give up, and those who overcome. Those who rise above their circumstances and rebuild their lives in a new way.

 There are several days in Jennifer’s life she remembers as if they were yesterday. Her wedding day, wearing her white lace gown and a bouquet of white roses clutched in her hands. Watching as she approaches the dashing young officer in his naval uniform. Making promises for a lifetime of love.

 She remembers vividly the birth of each of her four children, the first time she held them in her arms.

 And Jennifer remembers the day her husband of almost thirty years suddenly walked out on her, with no warning, leaving her with no money, no home, and a pile of unpaid bills.

Her life was shattered, her hopes crushed. Her dreams destroyed.

Jonathon remembers how life was…before. He was on top of the world, president of the company he founded several years before. Making a high six-figure income and living a life of luxury. Suddenly the bottom fell out of his industry. Bills went unpaid, paychecks bounced, lawsuits ensued, and within four months, his company, his employees, and his income were gone. His savings were used to pay off debts he’d incurred, and he suddenly found himself unemployed with he and his family living with friends.

 Everything was gone. His life’s work was no longer, faded into only a memory.

Then there are the hundreds of victims severely injured in the random acts of mass violence that is plaguing our country…and others. Victims who were gathered to enjoy a concert on a beautiful warm night; gathered to worship in their church on a Sunday morning; dancing with friends in a nightclub; running a marathon. And suddenly their lives were forever changed. Families were devastated and survivors incredibly injured and having to suddenly cope with their new normal, including loss of limbs, eyesight, and in many instances no longer able to care for themselves without help. Both physical and emotional trauma devastated their lives.

 Shattered hopes and shattered dreams. Having to put the pieces back together and deciding how and what to fill the missing parts with.

 It’s not easy, and it’s not quick. The pieces don’t fit like they used to, and the result is not like it used to be. It’s hard to adjust to that new normal. You cry out for answers, but no one replies. At least, no one replies like you want them to.

Especially when you’re asking, “why me?”

 It’s easy to blame God for letting this happen, without stopping to think that it could have been so much worse. Without stopping to think that the plans He has for us are still there.

 You ask yourself why you did this or that, why you made that decision, torture yourself with, “if I could only re-live that day and do this instead of that…”

 That doesn’t help either, because real life is not a movie set; there are no retakes and no re-doing the scene until it’s perfect.

 Picking up the pieces and repairing those shattered dreams, and shattered lives requires more of us than we ever knew we had. More faith, more determination, and more self-confidence than we thought we could muster. Discouragement happens along the way, but every time we rise above it, our faith and our self-determination are strengthened until we realize we are no longer a victim, but a survivor!

 In Jennifer’s situation, she was fortunate enough to have family who gave her a place to live while she adjusted to her new life. She went back to school and earned her associates degree while working part time, and found a job in an industry she truly enjoyed. And yes, she did meet someone else, and has now remarried.

 While many of the victims of those acts of terror and violence are still putting back together the pieces of their lives, countless others have gone on to adjust to their new normal, and have accomplished things in their lives they never dreamed possible. Because with a strong faith and determination, they survived, and re-glued the shattered pieces of their lives back together in a new way, and have also grown to appreciate life in a totally different perspective.

 Jonathan, on the other hand, couldn’t deal with his circumstances. Wouldn’t adjust, and continued to dwell on the past, what he’d lost, and what he should have done differently. Although his family and friends tried to bring him out of his depression, nothing helped. And one day, he just disappeared. He gave up. No one to this day knows where he is or what happened to him. A shattered life still in pieces.

Who will you be? Jennifer or Jonathan? One of the victims who remains a victim, or a survivor who picks up the pieces of shattered dreams and rearranges them into a new creation?

 It’s up to you. It’s not easy to be a survivor.

 But it’s better than the alternative.