Over my Christmas break I wanted an activity that could be both mindful as well as satisfy my need to accomplish something. So, I found myself at the dining room table to conquer a 1000-piece puzzle. I chose one with many blurred colours of lights and some distinct lines of a freeway from the bird’s eye view. I wanted a puzzle that was a challenge; not too easy, but not too hard either.
It has been about 4 years since I last did a puzzle, which also means previously I didn’t have children. The little helping hands of a 2yr old and almost 4yr old put the concept of a ‘not too hard’ puzzle into the ‘almost impossible’ category. From driving their toy cars through the neatly colour sorted pieces mixing them again, to putting pieces ‘in place’ and exclaiming “you’re welcome, Mum!” when it was nowhere near the right position. I knew I this activity was going to be harder than first anticipated.
The border had been complete, first stage and easiest stage was done. I filled in some distinct clusters of colours and was now nearing towards the mid-way point. I was in struggle town, ready to walk away from it. Needing to leave it for a few days before even thinking about looking at it again when my husband reminded me, he wanted the dining table back sooner rather than later. I had to keep pushing through. I’m now at the two-thirds complete stage, the home stretch where you can make out the picture as a whole and have a real sense of which general area most pieces you pick up will go to after having studied it for so many days. I started thinking about finishing it and having to pack it up. A friend asked if I would frame it, to which my response was “no, I’m not that attached to it”. But would I leave it on the table to walk past and see my accomplishment for a week? Or would I pack it up after a day? An hour? Or even pack it up as soon as the last piece was placed?
This sent me down a rabbit hole of what is my accomplishment worth. Wondering, did I do this just to show off my completed work? Why would I even bother beginning something that would end up right back in its box as if it had never been touched. It had me thinking I should slow down, continue enjoying the process again, because that would inevitably delay the packing up dilemma.
Some days I have similar dilemmas with my church work. Since the pandemic began, I have questioned the worth and importance of what I do. How can what I am doing each day really make an impact if we can’t physically be together? There are youth now in year 9 who have never been able to attend a youth camp due to repeated cancelations caused by lockdowns. This event is so important in the life of our youth for helping them to develop relationships, find acceptance, feel supported and encouraged to question and explore. These are such important, formative years, for understanding who they are, where they fit in the world and where God fits in their lives. As Community of Christ Youth Minister, I haven’t been able to meet them yet, let alone developed rapport to provide any support. Each time I have thought we were nearing the end of Covid-19 another strain has knocked us back causing us to cancel camps, events and prevent travelling to people’s homes.
Sharing all of this with my husband – yes, all spurred by eventually having to return the puzzle to its box– he reminded me of the monks who spend weeks creating giant mandalas out of sand, using multiple tools to create textures and shapes. At the end of creating their masterpiece they pray over it and begin sweeping it all up. As a symbol that everything is temporary, to bring awareness and meditation to something that is larger than their own small world. The monks give each person there a small handful of the sand which represents sublime possibility, then the rest is swept up and released into the nearest body of water to be carried away by the nearest stream.
Was it all for nothing? Most certainly not. The puzzle was everything I set for my holiday activity –mindfulness and a challenge all in one. My church work established good foundations and levels of trust with the youth and young adults before the pandemic that I know that every txt, snapchat, time I was asked to be a reference on their resume and every prayer I have said for these youth that I may not have been able to meet was making a difference in their lives. A mandala being wiped clean also means there is space for a new creation. Its been a week since I packed up my puzzle (the day after completing it) and already in that space we have created playdough, played hungry hippos, had family join us for meals, and played board games with friends.
As we have just wiped 2021 away, I hope that 2022 can bring you a renewed sense of invigoration and zest in whatever you set out to achieve and may you take the time to see what new possibilities can happen where the old took place.
Alicia Turner
Youth and Young Adult Minister, Australia Wide