As a mother of three young children, jigsaw puzzles are one of my top picks for toys I want to set on fire in frustration. Too often have multiple boxes been scattered across the carpet by little hands, only for it to become mom’s job to coordinate the clean up and then vow that the boxes shall never be opened again. We literally have a baby proof latch on our game cabinet for this very reason.
For the past few years, we’ve had a large family gathering in the summer, and a huge group of the incoming family rent a lake house. Without fail, a brand new GIANT and CRAZY DIFFICULT puzzle is purchased and placed on the coffee table, and many hands contribute to its pieces coming together throughout the week.
I’ll admit, I avoid that coffee table.
Part of it is having young kids that possess mad puzzle-shredding-skills, but another piece of me doesn’t want to get frustrated at a task that requires patience and pondering. Maybe my strengths only lie in finding the four corners? Or maybe a box of 24-count pieces is more my jam? No matter where my puzzle angst comes from, I don’t contribute much (if any) to the success of the giant, crazy difficult, lake house puzzle.
But that has gotten me thinking: It’s okay that puzzles aren’t my jam. It’s okay that either my kids wait to do puzzles when dad gets home, or that they wait until they can handle puzzles more independently.
NOT EVERYONE LOVES PUZZLES, AND THAT IS OKAY.
I have other ways I can contribute to the success of my children. And there are other people in our vicinity that can help fill in the skills and projects and activities that I’m unable to handle.
MY KIDS CAN DO PUZZLES WITH OTHER PEOPLE, AND THAT IS OKAY.
All this puzzling over puzzles has me pondering. And alliterating. This is where that big, juicy metaphor is going to come into play: maybe we are all our own kind of puzzle sprinkled on a coffee table that can’t all be done by one person in just a week. Maybe we need many hands to cover all the pieces – some to line the border, some to toil over that insipid yet beautiful blue sky, some to stand beyond the table to block the puzzle-shredders that try to destroy progress, and others to try piece after piece after piece until the whole coffee table is filled with the most exquisite puzzle you have ever seen.
I think I’m a complicated puzzle box – no 24 piece puzzle for this gal. At a glance, I have put together a lot of my own puzzle. But over the past few years I’ve discovered portions where the pieces were forced together just based on the similarity in color, and yet ridges stick up and it wasn’t put together properly. So I’ve dug out those pieces, and with a few other hands, I’ve been able to piece those sections together more smoothly and beautifully. And then another section of my puzzle, where in a traditional family only a few hands would have contributed, I have had many amiable hands come together to create my bigger picture. Mentors, church family, intimate friends, eclectic family members, teachers… they have all placed guiding hands to make sure I’ve become my own exquisite puzzle.
What kind of puzzle are you?
I bring this all up because we all may be coming from different places in life – childhood was great, but then you’ve encountered a really toxic relationship that has left you rearranging the center of your puzzle. Maybe you found portions of your past rang with trauma that you’ve only just now recognized in the disorganized border pieces. And it could be that everyone – society, your friends, your family, your community – has told you to put your pieces a certain way, even when it tore corners or roughed up your edges.
Often in this space I take to writing about motherhood and parenting, and how best to handle the ups and downs. I think it needs to be said that a lot of pressure can fall to parents to make sure their kids’ puzzles are smooth and go together quickly. In an ideal world, we would all have those 10-count puzzles with pieces the size of our palms that we can finish in under a minute. But the truth is, life comes with beautiful challenges, with unexpected hardships, and messy situations. My children will know that their mom will do her absolute best to guide them, that their dad will also take up their pieces and help gently put them together, and that they have a village surrounding them that will look out for them as they grow. Healthy relationships mean recognizing when you can help someone else’s puzzle dilemma, and also knowing when you’re not fit to work on someone’s complicated blue sky alone.
Want some examples in real life? My life puzzle skills include: talking through big emotions, singing requested lullabies and Despacito lyrics, recognizing hanger and when to pull snacks from my purse, designing last minute costumes, openly talking about periods and pregnancy and miscarriage and big life changes, making space to be vulnerable, making clever handmade hats for winter, and frequently giving into coffee shop drive through suggestions.
And let us not forget Brad, as he is a component to how my puzzle has been shaped in our years of marriage and dating, but also how we work together as parents. Our kids know he covers all the puzzles pieces related to soccer, toys thrown into high places or kicked into trees, video game knowledge, modeling calm and patience, tech support for everything, making snowpeople bases, and any and all challenges given him to perform on the kids’ scooters, even while I cringe at ramps and questionable landings.
These are simple examples, but I want to show that my children will have different hands to help piece their puzzles together. As they grow up? They will have aunties to talk about our changing planet, and uncles that demonstrate empathy and kindness; grandparents that will take them on adventures in the woods, or brunch at the local greasy spoon; school friend moms that will snap pictures when we can’t be at an event, or school friend dads that assure them that everything is okay when an activity is hard. There is a troupe of people lifting up our kids when we can’t always be there, or our skills can’t help them the way they need.
And just to mention, because I think this is a very unique situation to our family, I like to think about all the puzzle pieces we have helped place in regards to our foster kids. Just in our first year, we have had six different children in our care. In their time with us [[Side note: I am choking up in writing this right now]] you would not believe the many amazing people that have stepped up to shape our foster children’s puzzles. Brad and I have placed some pieces, but our own biological children have done so much to guide and love and encourage, along with so many friends, neighbors, and family members. If I could but tell you the stories of love and care so many people have shown…. you would see there is very much still good in our world.
I will never be the sole puzzle master for my children (bio or foster), and the beautifully worked together pieces of their puzzles will never be in credit to me. I will show my pride, but I will not take ownership of who they have become as they grow and mature. (Re-read that last sentence: note the difference between PRIDE and OWNERSHIP; it is important). My hope is that I can be a helpful and encouraging contributor, and if there is something that we as parents can’t help them with, that we can seek out mentors that will walk alongside them.
So before you start breaking out the box of matches, and setting your pieces alight when they don’t come together as you wish, I want you to remember a few things:
- Your pieces are unique and beautiful, whether they have been worn hard with trial and error, or many hands helped piece together an intricate pattern.
- No one can take full credit for your puzzle but you.
- Worn pieces (from failure, or trauma, or shame, or hardship, or toxic relationships) can heal into brave stamps. Many of mine have. Others are still a work in progress.
- Seek out hands and relationships and people that will treasure your pieces.
- Setting boundaries on who has access to your pieces (like your dreams, your hopes, your vulnerabilities, and your struggles) is up to YOU.
- And last of all, never forget: you are your own exquisite puzzle.
What’s your puzzle box like?
~Maggie
