Life can seem like a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces just won’t fit;
Sometimes we struggle hard to fit a wrong piece into place,
While with our best intentions we ignore the better choice.
Life can seem like a jigsaw puzzle where the pieces just won’t fit.
We can never see how the picture looks till the puzzle is complete;
Each piece put into place brings changes that we can’t anticipate.
We cannot be sure which piece placed where will make the picture whole.
We can never see how the picture looks till the puzzle is complete.
God Himself designed the puzzle; He knows where each piece fits.
He knows all about our struggles and the choices we must make.
He wants so much to help us; all we have to do is ask.
God Himself designed the puzzle; He knows where each piece fits.
About This Song:
I’m not sure whether I wrote this song just before or just after my father’s death in 1993, and I can’t ask my mother because she died a year later. But I do recall sharing this song with her and her expressing concern. “Do you really feel that way?”
Yes, I did at that time, and I occasionally still do. Life is full of things that can’t be explained–bumps in the road that keep us from having a totally smooth ride as we proceed towards our inevitable earthly death. Bumps that just happen.
People often get caught up with asking God why. At least they seem to recognize that He knows why, even when He chooses not to explain.
The older I get, the more satisfied I am with leaving things in His hands. The more I rely on Him and the less I attempt to rely on myself–that doesn’t mean I don’t use my head or my talents to solve whatever problems I can–the closer I come to being the jigsaw puzzle God designed me to be.
What could be more special than that? How about leaving a comment?
A free lead sheet for this song is available here. A VERY old home recording can be heard here.
Look for me again next Wednesday. Better still, subscribe to receive these weekly posts by email.
Best regards,
Roger
Links you might be interested in:
As I Come Singing. . . 