Of weariness and jigsaw puzzles.

It's an interesting thing really that we sit down and put puzzles together. We piece together little pictures of kittens, or landscaped imperfections, maybe even old castles and dragons. We search for corner pieces to have a foundation to build off of. We organize piles of similar pieces, and carefully keep any from hitting the ground. We lean hunched over tables in dim lighting, in faith that the puzzle will soon resemble the picture on the box. 

God, however, has a different strategy in the way of building effective puzzles. He likes to take the box, glance inside, whisper a few words, and then turn it over on the floor. He likes to start with middle pieces, and build the edges later. He likes to wait for the pieces to be willing to be a whole before He takes His time putting everything back together again.

By all means, take that metaphor as it is implied.

There's no way to bounce back from rock bottom unless you actually hit the bottom.

You can't just hover over the bottom and expect to be skyrocketed back to happiness and a time when you can trust anything or anyone again.

Similarly, there's no way to be put together before you take apart all the pieces you shoved together wrong like a frustrated child who closes his eyes and prays that when they open the misfits will magically fit. There's no way to finish the puzzle until you un-hunch your shoulders and accept some help.

Sometimes that leaves us with no choice but to take apart the last few pieces we quietly hoped would get us started on the rest of the puzzle. Sometimes we have to close our eyes and accept that rock bottom is a few inches away. Sometimes we just have to have faith that we will bounce back.