It’s common to return from a pilgrimage with a small, physical memento to serve as a reminder or a metaphor of the journey and its discoveries. My wife and I journeyed from Louisiana to California and back—some five thousand miles over sixteen days—a pilgrimage to our nephew’s memorial and an opportunity to remember the loss of ten previous family members in the six years since we moved from the Golden State to the Deep South. On our journey, we carried this beautiful puzzle with us in and out of hotels along the way. The pilgrimage was a beautiful, sacred experience. But, the small, physical memento of our pilgrimage proved elusive. Until our final day in California. I arose before dawn and placed the final few pieces of the puzzle. I sat back in my chair and observed the finished puzzle. My attention moved from the rather foreboding cedar tree in the foreground to the stillness of the village to the swirls of energy to the radiant crescent moon, and—finally—to the pulsing stars in the heaven. Instinctively, I started to count them: "One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven." Eleven stars in the heaven. "Tom, Kitty, Gracie, Bonnie, Mark, Bob, Ray, Barbara, Lucy, David, and Ricardo." I had found my memento to remember this pilgrimage. I had packed it before we began the journey, unawares. This puzzle was heaven sent.