suddenlysinglewomen

Stormy seas, rocky shores, waves crashing,  black skies and starless nights – such calamities awaited sailors before there were lighthouses built to guide them safely into port.  Some days I feel like the only things out there facing me are stormy seas that I cannot see how to navigate through.  I search for my lighthouse beacon and I cannot seem to locate it.  Do you ever have days and nights like that?

I’ll get frustrated and rant and rave in my brain because I do not understand why such bad things happen to a good person.  I am a good person, I do the right thing even when it causes me pain.  I live and play by the rules because I think those rules are there for a reason.  Yep, I am a rule follower.  If it says “No Left Turn”, then I drive out of my way to turn left where there IS a left turn allowed.  If I know I’m exiting the freeway in a mile, I’ll go ahead and move over to the right in preparation.  I do NOT cut in at the last minute.

“Why do bad things happen to good people?”  I’ve heard that expression my entire life and have never heard an answer to it.  My friends have lost their husbands, really good and loving men, to cancer and I wonder why?  I look around and see men my age leaving their beautiful wives, women my age, for younger models and I wonder why?  Last year my city was heartbroken when three young children were left as orphans when both their parents were killed in an automobile collision coming home from a family vacation and we were left to wonder why?  What had these children done to deserve this?

The answer?  Absolutely nothing.  Sometimes there are no clear cut answers to why things happen.  We can totally drive ourselves crazy trying to figure out the “why” when there really isn’t an answer.  I believe in a higher being, and I have to believe that he/she knows the “why” and it just hasn’t become clear to me yet.  That higher being has to be my lighthouse beacon in the dark, helping me to find a safe port in any storm that life may throw at me.  I believe I would call that having “faith” that I can get through anything that’s thrown at me.

So I will continue to follow the rules, and I will still always try to do the right thing because it brings a certain stability to my life that I need.  But fair warning, if you try to cut me off at the last minute to make your exit and you haven’t waited your turn in line, I just may not let you in – – – just sayin’!

I have many friends who enjoy puzzles, especially those with second homes and busy grandchildren!  I remember doing puzzles as a child, but not so much as an adult – that is until I started visiting those people with second homes and busy grandchildren.  It can become an obsession to get one finished.  Just a few more minutes . . .?

What do they do with the puzzles that have been “done”?  They box them up (hopefully with all pieces included) and give them to the next person, and so on and so on and so on.  Somewhere down that line of “puzzle passing” is yours truly.  A couple of months ago I received about a dozen “done” puzzles from one of those friends.  Never one to turn down a freebie, I gratefully accepted them.

A week later came the Ziploc baggie . . .

with the pieces she had recovered from the carpet under the puzzle table.

She has no clue which puzzle they belong to, or if in fact they belong to the SAME puzzle.  Hmmmm, now that’s “puzzling”!

And you guessed it, I just couldn’t resist making the analogy of the missing puzzles pieces to my “post divorce” life.  I know you’ve felt it too.  Some days you just can’t see how you fit into the giant puzzle of life.  I thought my puzzle was well designed and put together with no missing pieces.  I didn’t see that in reality my life puzzle had pieces that were being lost or removed or put in the wrong places.

People who do a lot of puzzles sometimes use this certain kind of pad on their tables to keep the pieces from sliding off or getting lost.  It literally holds the pieces together – non-skid!  Though I had tried to hold the pieces of my marriage and my life together, my pieces were skidding right off the edge of the table and falling to the carpet below to be picked up at a later date.  Once I got those pieces picked up, I wasn’t sure where they belonged or how they would ever fit together again.

As of today I still haven’t figured out which puzzles those pieces in the Ziploc belong to, and I still haven’t figured out where some of those missing puzzles pieces of my life belong – I still need . . . “just a few more minutes!”