Remember that story by Shel Silverstein called ‘The Missing Piece’? My favorite #2son has that illustration tattooed on his arm. I love that story. I love the illustration. I can relate to that story. I spent years and years searching for my own missing piece. I never felt whole. I always felt like something was missing. I felt half at best, usually much less at worst.
When my dad died, I felt like God had sucker punched me. So I told him I’d never speak to him again. I went from 3/4 to 1/4 in an instant. I spent 26 years searching for my missing piece. I couldn’t find it. Try as I might. I looked for it in relationships. Nope. I looked for it in a bottle of alcohol. The bottles got bigger and deeper, but it wasn’t there. I looked for it in tattoos. I got a lot of doodles on my skin, but it wasn’t there either. I tried online communities. They sort of helped a little, but again I struck out.
When I finally concluded I couldn’t find it and maybe I would never find it, I decided to give up and die. Then my friend told me about Jesus. How he changed everything for her. My heart leaped a little. Could Jesus be it? The missing piece? I took one last chance. I cried out to Jesus to save me. And he did! I finally found it! My missing piece! After 26 long years I became whole.