What's the purpose of all the broken pieces?

Growing up, I hated puzzles. I could never get the pieces to fit. Even though the box had a perfect image on the front, I could never seem to get my pieces fit quite the way I envisioned. For that reason, I usually ended up angrily throwing the pieces back into the box and walking away to pick up a simpler game, like Solitare. 

Now that I am older, I still hate puzzles. Whenever I pull them out, I quickly get assistants to put them together for me. They produce an anxiety in me. What if, despite my best efforts, they still don't fit together?

Lately, I feel like my life is like a puzzle. Lots of pieces, thrown together. However, unlike a puzzle, the pieces don't seem to quite fit. Some of them are broken. Fragments of friends, shards of family, blunt edges of dreams and small pieces of hope. Where do they all go? 

Maybe life is less like the puzzle, which is waiting for just the right arrangement of the pieces. Maybe it is more like a mosaic. Broken pieces, some to be discarded, but many there to be put together, arranged and rearranged. The beauty of a mosaic is that it combines things from multiple sources--- jewels and things that were once discarded, and puts them together to make a beautiful arrangement. Mosaics made out of the most delicate pieces, like glass, can reflect light. 

So maybe thats the purpose of all the broken pieces. To come together, to reflect light.