Brookings resident Carl Kline is an ordained clergyman, part-time teacher and occasional blogger.

We took the pandemic seriously in our household. We believed Doctor Fauci. We wore our masks when we were out and about. We chose to be absent from social events we might otherwise have attended. We spent more time at home. We started doing puzzles. We’re still doing them.

Since the beginning of the pandemic in 2020, I estimate we have completed 264 puzzles (except for several not completed because of pieces we lost). A puzzle has become a permanent fixture in our front room, sitting there ready for anyone who has a spare moment, or more. They have saved us from screen time, boredom and chores we wanted to avoid.

There is a regular routine. We take turns choosing the puzzle we will do, from the several we’ve purchased. I’m in charge of setting up the puzzle. It’s my responsibility to turn over all the pieces, separating out those with straight edges and arranging others on trays (as the table isn’t large enough for all the pieces). If I have the time and inclination, I’m allowed to start making the outside frame; but that is primarily the responsibility of my wife. The rest is a joint effort. Whoever is able, works on it till it is finished. Then it’s her responsibility to remove it from the table once we’ve both had adequate time to appreciate the finished product.

During my vocation in the ministry, I’ve called on senior members of the church in their homes and in care centers. More often than not, there was a puzzle in process. It made me wonder whether puzzles were a particular occupation of children and the aged? Are they there for us to just “pass the time,” as our lives are so free of work responsibilities or other meaningful activity, that we need something to focus our attention?

Not necessarily. Puzzles can supplement reading in our spare time, as well as draw us into deeper pondering and remembrances. In many ways, doing so many puzzles has made me think of them as a metaphor for life.

For instance, there is a significant emotional response when you have finished a 1,000 piece puzzle and there is one piece missing. We check under the rugs, re-examine the box to make sure we initially removed all the pieces, and look in the nearby hallway. We will be frustrated till we find the missing piece, or close the finally refilled box with an attached note there is a piece missing.

It’s like making a cake and once baked, realizing you left out an important ingredient. Or there was the relationship where you had an opportunity to offer forgiveness, and you missed the chance. How many of us close the box on our lives with a piece missing?

How many pieces make up our lives? 1,000? 750? 500? 300? 2,000? Because of circumstance, we generally choose a 1,000 piece puzzle. Our puzzle table space determines the size, although we occasionally purchase the smaller ones for variety and ease. Circumstances often determine how many pieces there are in our lives. Is there room for a family of five? Does your life space allow more than 300 pieces?

We’ve done puzzles that were difficult. Try as we might, pieces never seemed to fit. It’s hard to “make” them fit without messing up the whole puzzle. Sometimes you can be stuck for a long time because one piece is out of place. Life can be like that, with one mistaken choice that seems to place life at a standstill. Even though we struggle to change the situation, what really needs to happen is to step back, observe the whole scene and determine where the mistake is that needs to be corrected.

Putting together a puzzle you need to ask yourself, “Is there a piece with a curve like that, or a color like this, in all those hundreds of pieces?” It requires focus! It may require looking carefully at each and every piece, just as life lived fully requires focus! I’m sometimes accused of being oblivious. Something can be right in front of my face and I’ll miss it. Meditation and puzzles help me focus.

If I were able, I would spend far more time at the ocean. There’s something beautiful and calming about a beachfront porch on Cape Cod. Perhaps that’s why I often choose an ocean scene when purchasing a puzzle. Or there are those scenes from the fifties. On our table today is a ‘50s drive-in scene, with the chevy and other ‘50s cars, and an ocean with sailboat in the background. My wish and memories, right there in our front room!

Finally, we always try to pass the puzzle on. They are not stored in the cubby under the eaves. Many go to the library for their sale. We’ve learned to make a small mark on those, so we don’t forget donating them and buy them back. During the pandemic, many went to a local care center.

Others go to Goodwill or are shared with friends who are also puzzle people. Those puzzle boxes with lost pieces sit waiting, in the hope the lost will be found. That’s like life too!

“Which of you, if you had one hundred sheep, and lost one of them, wouldn’t leave the 99 in the wilderness, and go after the one that was lost, until he found it? When he has found it, he carries it on his shoulders rejoicing.”