puzzle pieces

For the last two weeks I have been wrestling with an idea that I haven't been able to put into words. I was going to ignore the massive blurry image floating in my mind and instead write about the spirit of giving during the Christmast season. My plan to ignore didn't work, and you are going to have to think about the spirit of giving without me. Fortunately, though, I think I may have found some words to explain my latest internal struggle.

I am nowhere near conquering the struggle. I have no conclusion to present. I might not even be near the climax of the conflict. But I wanted to share with you my thoughts.

My thoughts begin with a woman in the slums of Manila in the Philippines. Like all of her neighbors do, I will call her Nanay, which is Tagalog for Mother. Nanay was my host mom when I stayed in Manila in September, '06. Her house is one room, with a curtain separating the living room/dining room from the bedroom. Four of her children, one of her grandchildren, and her grandchild's father live with her in that tiny house, and the dining room table folds up at night to make more sleeping space. She makes a "living" by selling food from 9 pm to 4 am every night. She cooks the food on a small coal stove that sits on the ground and holds a large bowl similar in shape to a wok. The stove sometimes makes flames a foot high, threatening to burn the shelves next to it. When she isn't cooking or selling food, she is going to the market, working at the nearby prison, or helping the church next door with their ministries. Sometimes she gets to sleep. When I was there in September, she was also cooking lunch and dinner for me and a friend every other day.

Her life is hard, but she is one of the most joyful and content women I have ever met. Don't get me wrong, I have seen happier people, and Nanay has had a life full of pain, but she is amazingly grateful for what little she has and she is full of joy. The church once tried to give her money for a new stove, which would help her cook faster, make better food, and protect her home from possiblly burning down. She took the money, bought food and blankets, and gave it all to the people in the nearby prison. She was happy with her broken stove and she wanted to help others who had less than herself. She is truely content with her life and excited to give joyfully to others.

I am leaving too much of Nanay's story out right now, but in interest of time I am moving on. I will hopefully write more about her and you will just have to trust me right now that this woman is amazing. Meeting, talking with, and learning to love Nanay has completely changed my life. My collision with her has left me feeling broken and small.

Here is where the massive, blurry image begins to come into focus:



In my mind's eye I see the lives of everyone in the world, past, present, and future, coming together as a gigantic, intricate, beautiful puzzle. When I look at Nanay's life, I see a small but complex and priceless puzzle piece. I see a piece that fills a very tiny space, but reveals an amazing image of true joy and selflesness. Her puzzle piece is one that finally puts the image together. Nanay's life is one that truely impacts the lives of those around her, completing a beautiful picture, and revealing that beauty to the beholder (the beholder being me in this case, and maybe you).

Then I think of my life, and a million questions ensue. What puzzle piece am I now? What piece do I want to be? What picture do I want to reveal? What space does God want me to fill? Do all these questions point to the same piece? Or are the answers to these questions in conflict, pulling me in different directions, breaking me apart, and turning me into several microscopic, useless pieces, filling holes that reveal nothing more than a spec of dust or the anxiety of the pursuit of happiness?

In essence: who am I, who do I want to be, and who does God want me to be? And are these three the same?

I am 100% sure that the answers to these questions are different.

I don't expect to resolve this problem any time soon, but I wanted to share with you the tension that I am experiencing.

Where do I fit in the puzzle? What responsibilities do I hold in my hands? What pictures could I reveal to the beholder? What beautiful images does God want to reveal through me? Do I want to be like Nanay and bear those complex, painful, and amazing images with joy and selflesness? Do I want to bear it at all?

I want to scream "yes, yes I will bear it." But do I mean it? What does it look like for a white, single, american woman with a car, an apartment, a job, a lot of friends, and a great family to "bear it," to reveal God's beautiful images?

Currently, I have no clue.