It’s one of those things you’re either totally into or totally not; there doesn’t seem to be a middle ground. Me and my husband? Totally in. To puzzles that is. We don’t indulge in this age-old pastime often, but many years ago we started an unintentional tradition of completing a puzzle during the week between Christmas and New Year’s. For two people who love to be productive and find it difficult to sit still for long, it feels scandalously indulgent to spend hours of time on something that – in and of itself – has no real value in the end and is usually deconstructed shortly after the last piece is placed.

The value of course is in the process; the time we spend together side-by-side working toward a common goal. In many ways, “working” a puzzle together parallels the building of our friendship, our marriage and our family. While there may be some unhinged puzzlers out there who begin a puzzle at random, these two conservative souls always begin by building the outer frame. For a civil engineer and an all-around lover of control and order, working within a border just feels right – comfortable – safe – and provides just enough perspective of how things will look in the end.

While we never could have guessed the picture that has come together after twenty-five years of marriage, the day we said our vows to one another, we framed the years to come in faith. And this has made all the difference.

“We know that all things work for good for those who love God,* who are called according to his purpose.” Romans 8:28

The truth of the matter is, once we start a puzzle, we quickly get addicted. It’s a bit of a problem. We kinda become laser focused and we both find it difficult to walk by without stopping to see if we can place one more piece. We may or may not have been late to church this past Sunday after losing all track of time and space while both hunched over the puzzle as if our lives depended on finding whatever piece we were searching for.

I noticed this year that our personalities come through in the way we each approach the build. My husband is very methodical and always keeps sight of the big picture. I tend to flutter around looking for one piece only to find another I was looking for earlier, stopping to place that one, forgetting what one I was looking for in the first place and on and on I go. This certainly parallels the life we have built together as my husband has always been the calm presence – the big-picture, patient, let’s-work-on-this-before-we-start-something-else kind of guy. And then there’s me operating on high speed all the time trying to address the hundred different thoughts on my mind all at once while anxiously looking for something else to plan for or worry about. Somehow, through the brilliance of design only God could lead, we fit together and, at least in my opinion, end up creating something rather awesome in our own, entirely quirky way.

As it happens, the week between Christmas and New Year’s this year, right in the midst of our ever-important puzzle build, my husband was wrestling with a very unexpected opportunity for a job change. Both options – staying put or moving on- had pros and cons and we discussed them at nauseum, both struggling to see where he would fit best. In the end, we had to step back and remember to work within the border; focusing first on what has always been important to us and praying for the guidance to land within the framework of God’s design for us and our family.

This year’s puzzle was probably one of the most challenging we have completed. The colors were vibrant and just distinctive enough to guide their placement but the drawings were done with tiny, fine lines that made it nearly impossible to see what the picture was on an individual piece until we found its place in the puzzle. How many times in our forty-nine years have we both questioned God’s plan and wondered how a period of suffering could ever contribute to the beautiful picture it was a piece of? Never fail, when we try to make sense of things on our own and outside the framework of our faith, we find ourselves trying to force something that won’t fit, no matter how long we spend rotating the piece.

We have an important puzzle-building rule. We are not allowed to spend more than a few minutes on the puzzle on our own. We are, after all, in it together from beginning to end. When the very last piece is ready to be placed, it never fails that my husband hands it to me – true love at its best. Once complete, there may or may not be some celebratory high-fives and a healthy exchange of “go-team” kinda talk. It’s all (as I’m realizing writing this) entirely nerdy yet somehow also entirely us.

There are a few truths about puzzles that make life a bit easier to navigate. The first is that there is never a piece that doesn’t fit – every piece is perfectly unique and has its place – essential to complete the puzzle. The second is that, once the puzzle is complete, the picture will be clear and the pieces working together will create something much more beautiful than they could represent on their own. And lastly, the creator of the puzzle always begins with the full picture. Let that one sink in for a minute. He knows what it all looks like in the end, and if you just keep building within the framework, every piece will fall into place. And, from what I hear, the completed puzzle is promised to be more beautiful than we can imagine.