The Prude had extra time on her hands this weekend.
When she has lots of spare time she tends to get philosophical, in a confused, disjointed way.
She and her husband spent the spare time putting together this lovely puzzle.
The Prude got to philosophizing:
1) Wouldn’t it be delightful to live in this village with this clean snow and happy children and people who eat outside to accordion music?
2) Life is sort of like a puzzle. It looks all disjointed and unorganized until put together. Then it displays the beautiful picture that was planned from the start. And if someone or something is missing from your life, a unique shaped hole is left behind.
The Prude never said she was an original-thinking philosopher.
She also spent time gazing into her new snow globe. The world inside it is so much lovelier than the brown and gray landscape that surrounds her since most of the midwest snow melted.
“Life,” she thought pensively, “is like a snow globe. We can so easily live in our own isolated little worlds. Or maybe it’s more like a snow globe because only after God shakes us out of our complacency can we really appreciate the beauty all around us.”
The Prude was feeling rather smug and sage and metaphysical.
“Yes,” she mused. “Life is like a beautiful puzzle and life is like a lovely snow globe.”
And then, because her spare time wasn’t all used up, she got to pondering the puzzle again. She noticed the couple on the bottom by the ice rink. They looked as though they were saying goodbye. And then there was the woman to the right of the rink, trying to restrain her beloved from going after the earthly delights represented on the table of plenty.
The Prude, seized with whimsy, removed some pieces to illustrate the heartbreak that results when something is missing from the puzzle of life.
But instead of a romantic hole, the poor couple are just missing their mid-sections.
The poor woman grasping her husband merely looks foolish chasing a 1-legged man.
Maybe the couple wasn’t saying goodbye. Maybe they were just wishing the beggar and the pesky dog would go away.
Maybe the woman isn’t really chasing her husband; she’s just trying to beat him to the last piece of Wiener schnitzel.
And maybe life in a snow globe would give one a constant headache. After all, a low-pressure system doesn’t bring the snow. One’s world must be turned upside down and shaken wildly.
Maybe The Prude will leave philosophizing to the philosophers and go run her errands. A low-pressure system is moving in and bringing snow. She doesn’t even need to stand on her head for it.