Late night Puzzles

Sometimes I lay in bed and can't sleep. It just happens, no reason.

So I flip on my light and find something productive to do until I can sleep. Sometimes I read- a book, my bible. But lately I've taken to trying to make my own puzzles.

Sudoku puzzles, to be exact.
Despite being an "expert level" sudoku player, I'm terrible at making the puzzle.

See, the key in creating is to start by making the solution.
This, I soon found, is a puzzle in itself.
Creating a solution is no simple task- at least not for mybrain.
You can't sporadically place numbers and call it good.
...and I'm trying to use my own brain and pen to do this, not a computer formula.

Ive now tried five times without success.
Every time, I get close to the end of the solution, and I find that I have three 4s in one box, and no place for my 9, or that I mixed up the placement of all the 2s.

Then I think- I'll just fix those numbers and it will work.
But to fix those numbers, I usually have to change Another number. Yikes.

Without fail, this puts me to sleep after a while. My brain gets tired from all that work!

....but then I wake up thinking about puzzles. And I find myself thinking about puzzles, thoughts about them flitting around my head like stray flies in the middle of the day...

How can you start with a solution?
Surely, you have to have an end goal in mind, an overarching picture of where you want to go. But to be successful, you have to be able to see all the pieces fit together.

I've always thought God was a great puzzle maker. I've always loved puzzles of any and every kind, so I've also loved the picture of God being able to see the final solution before we can. It was nice imagery for me, I suppose.

My problem is, I always slap these labels -"PuzzleMaker"- on God without really understanding them. Now I think I'm starting to get it.

God started with the solution.
He didn't make the test then say, let me make the key, like some of our professors do on multiple choice tests. He didn't say this is my goal, so let me think about how I'll get there.

The goal and the solution were one and the same.
The puzzle fell apart when we tried to handle it- but it was always intended to come back together, because it STARTED as a solution.

I hope I'm making sense, and not just "puzzling" you to death.
Personally, this whole thing makes so much sense and yet none at all to me.
It's that.... wonderful mystery of God...

Maybe the best thing for you to do is try it.
Try to make a puzzle today.

Start with the solution.
Then test it.
If there is more than one solution, it's an invalid puzzle.

Makes you think, doesn't it? 

Finding Solid Ground in the Janitor's closet

Some days are purely emotional.

There's that odd combination of work-related and life related stress that just puts your senses on overload.
Think about it: you have a crap ton of work on your desk, and there's some sort of random beeping noise coming from a malfunctioning fire alarm. Throughout the course of the day, the most ridiculous things happen. Some are good, some make you angry. Some are laughable, some bring you to tears.

You have conversations with your boss and there's more work to do.
Life at home might be a little crazy....
And relationships, who knows what's happening anymore?

Today I had one of those days.
Life was on overload and I couldn't quite keep up with its supersonic speed. I was limping, time was strolling slowly through the day like it was a Sunday afternoon instead of a Monday.... but the life things. Like bullets that I could see from a mile away but couldn't dodge, they just kept coming.

None of them hit me directly. But I still broke a little.



Naturally, I found myself sitting on a bucket in a janitor's closet of our building.
You've got to do strange things to find quiet sometimes- but sanity is important.

A few deep breaths, in and out.
Finally the tears streaming down my face, what a relief.
Thoughts still swirling in a confusion around my head, and I settle on one thing,

"Peace."


With a breath the headache is gone.
Leaning my head against the concrete wall, I look at the line of dry, clean mop heads.
They know their purpose- they hang, spaghetti-like, ready to immerse themselves in bleach water and floors marked by the passing of parents, kids, staff...

That's it, I think.
I have never once doubted the Lord. My whole life I have trusted Him, and trusted who He is.
I know that His opinion of me has never changed, and that His love for me is unending.
I know that He has claimed me before all of time. I even saw it once- the Lord, mighty in power and sitting on his heavenly throne. He stood up before all of creation and all of time. In righteous anger and perfect firmness and truth, he confronted my enemies. With a mighty stamp of His staff He sent ripples through space, declaring once and for all, "She is mine!"

He claimed me, He claimed all of us who would also claim him.

This I have done my whole life. I have always claimed him.
I am not perfect, but I have run to him and lifted him high.

But I have been guilty of one thing.
I have embraced a false humility, and allowed myself to be trodden upon.
I have embraced my king, but I have not stood up and declared who I am.


By His blood, I am:
    Free
      Chosen
         Not Alone
            Marked with Hope
                A Prisoner of Hope
                    Redeemed from all my sin and shame- ALL OF IT (even what I still struggle with)
                        I am set free, liberated
                          I am no longer a slave
                            I am not an orphan or a castoff
                               I am uniquely created in the image of the Uncreated Creator
                                   I have been brought into His presence
                                      By His love I have heard His voice
                                          I am one who knows God
                                             I am His, and He is mine....






The list goes on.
And it isn't just for me, you know.
It goes like this. Some friends of mine have been using the hashtag #where'smyground?
What is your foundation, your "worth living for," your "this is who I am, and nothing you say or do can change it?" Where is the place that you will make a stand?

In the janitor's closet today, I realized that my ground can't just be knowing who God is, or even just knowing Him. You see, He stood for me. He stands with me. He goes before me and behind me....


I am not going to sit quietly anymore.
I know where my ground is.


It starts here:

I AM A CHILD OF GOD.

Now, Where is YOUR ground?

Surfacing

On the surface again...

A gasp for air- not desperate, but refreshing.
Into the lungs it goes, ignoring the wetness all around.

Out of murky depths I had come.
Now I tread, enjoying the fresh air...
each breath a gift.
Finding myself again- surfacing from the depths.

Had they been all that bad?
No, the explorer cries.
We saw great wonders.
The colors down there.... *sigh*
....and the sights!

But it got murky after a time.
I got distracted-
Forgot who I was with, where my line was.
I lost myself in the mire.


A tug brought me back.
Like a call to the heart, and my body remembered.
My lungs responded- a need to breathe, to feel, 59 see...

My feet found the bottom, the depth of the pit.
Beautiful sights- how can these compare?
To sweet air...

In, and out it flows.
Lifeblood.

And I am myself again.

No longer distracted.
I remember the cord,
I see my lifeline.
And I see... the horizon, ahead.

Unseen, but still it calls-
Home awaits.