Those pieces of me. I picked them up along the way. They came from friends and family and books and ideas,
There are happy pieces and sad pieces and pieces so full of hope and idea they can't rest beside the rest,
They venture out through trial and test and then they come home to rest.
Sometimes my pieces line up like the Rockettes in rhythm and motion and full of music and vibration,
Sometimes they curl up together like newborn puppies suckling, whining, eyes closed, afraid, hoping someone will feed them soon.
The pieces of me,they comfort me, drive me, confuse me.
Sometimes I recognize them like a long lost friend, sometimes I stare at them confused and wondering where they came from and why they don't fit better together.
There are pieces that cry for the Hallmark commercials, and those that scream in the kitchen. They live together but they don't make sense.
When those pieces of me, mix with the pieces of you, everything looks for their place.
The puppies, the dancers, the rage, and the rest. They're all searching for their fit.
Your pieces like to divide and conquer and think and wonder, and mine are looking for the perfect fit. The straight lines and the ying and the yang.
There are days our pieces they fight for the same space and they struggle and leave our edges frayed. One moves left and one moves up and to the right and no one is sure what that means.
Then my pieces and your pieces made more pieces and none of it some days make sense. My pieces like the dark and the quiet and the smooth and the soothing and yours like the lights and the noise and the journey to places unknown. Mine want to know. My pieces want to know where and what time and how much longer and when will that take place. When will they find their place.
Somewhere in the midst of the pieces and the parts and the frayed edges and the holes left undone, I always long to fit, to know that my pieces will have done the good work and in heaven there will be a resting place where all of our pieces fit.
I long to know that in the chaos and the misfits, there is an understanding that my pieces are trying to do good work, and they sometimes fill other gaps but they know their place at home. Our home. The place where it's safe and even when the pieces don't fit, they rest in the safety and security that alone we are frayed and together a masterpiece that may only be seen in heaven. My pieces of me always looking for that peace with you and that peace with Him.
