Life is Jenga . . .

The past 12 months have been a bit stressful. New job at a new school, new classes, new colleagues, the day-to-day life struggle of my oldest son, his arrival back in Texas, his almost immediate arrest and 4 months in Tarrant Co. Jail, his release and almost immediate arrest again, now in Denton Co. Jail awaiting a few years in prison, my father's death in November, etc. Then school got out and I thought, "Ok, the year went well, I don't have to worry as much about Ethan's potential death, Asa is good and now going to be a senior. Ok. I can relax now." I was wrong. Nothing else bad happened, it just all hit. The last year, the last 8 years, the last 14 years, it all hit.

In June, I was in Salt Lake City reading AP exams and got altitude sickness. The shortness of breath threw me into an anxiety spin. I've never experienced this before, at least not that I've actually identified. I was afraid I was having another heart attack. I was afraid to go to sleep because I couldn't breathe. I was afraid. Long story short, it was time to get my head back straight with a little help from anti-depressants again.

So, I was telling this story to a friend the other day and the best analogy I could come up with was playing Jenga. We all start out like that firm, sturdy block tower at the beginning of the game. When you first begin to remove and replace the pieces, most people will remove a piece from somewhere in the middle. You choose one that isn't going to dramatically shift the balance because if the tower becomes too unbalanced, it will fall down. So, you very carefully remove a block, place it on the top, and hold your breath for a minute in hopes that the tower remains upright. Whew! Ok, a shift, but still standing. All players continue this routine of removing a piece and placing it on the top of the tower. Each time, there's a little more fear that the tower will fall, which is fine, as long as it's someone else's turn. Lol. In thinking of this analogy, those first, easy to remove blocks are the normal slings and arrows of life which we face every day. They can knock the balance a little, but not enough to knock us all the way over. However, there comes a time in the Jenga game where it's harder to find a piece to remove and when we do find one, it leaves a bigger gap and when placed on top of the tower, the tower sways just a little more. There is still a core of strength, but that strength has been stretched to a height which makes it much more unsound. The problems, the bigger ones are now disintegrating the stability. Yet, still standing, just harder. Eventually, there is no choice but to start pulling blocks from the bottom of the tower. This is the riskiest stage of the game. Every slight finger tap and movement can send it falling. As we go through life, we take hit after hit, problem after problem, sadness after sadness, each time chipping away at the strength of our tower. We get through, we keep going, we don't topple until those bottom pieces bring it all down. Finally, one too many blocks are pulled, and the tower falls. 

In June, my tower had one too many pieces moved and it fell. We all hit that point at times. We all have our gaps of strength and they're all relative. What is a big empty gap for me is someone else's easily moved piece and vice versa. What is important though is what you do with that toppled tower. Just as in the Jenga game itself, you set the tower back up, carefully replacing the pieces, and rebuild the sturdy tower. Then you start playing again. Isn't that life? That center core is the key and if you have a strong one, you can stretch farther, but eventually, the core needs repair. The tower needs a reset. Don't ever just leave your pieces on the floor. If they fall, stack them back up and keep going. Life is Jenga.