Limps and Blessings

There is a vivid story from the Hebrew Scriptures about a man, named Jacob, who wrestled with an angel through the night. He was to cross a river in the morning to reconcile with his brother on the other side. Having acted shamefully in his past, he was anxious about how the encounter might go. The angel awakened Jacob and they wrestled throughout the night. Once Jacob recognized his opponent as an angel,  he refused to let go until he received a blessing.  When it was given, his name was changed to “Israel,” which means one who wrestles with God. He was also given an injury which causes him to limp for the rest of his life.

I remember sitting up in church when the story of Jacob's late-night wrestling match was read. The action and drama were tonics to the boredom I felt sitting in church.  It wasn’t until many years later that I felt drawn to the truth underneath all the action and drama. It wasn’t until I had wrestled with an angel and been given a limp of my own that I began to understand how much more there was to this entertaining story.

Last week, one of my children asked to meet with me. I could tell it was serious, and we talked for over an hour about what in AA they call “the wreckage of my past.” She wanted to ask questions about things I’d done and express her feelings about them. It was a difficult, painful conversation, but we wrestled through, and, as I sat there in my discomfort, I prayed she would receive the blessing that comes from saying what she needed to say. I, however, limped home.

The next morning, I sat in a circle of recovering alcoholics. A newcomer shared a difficult conversation she’d had with her mother. Like the one with my daughter, things were said about her past and she was left struggling to walk through another day without picking up a drink. The group surrounded her with what experience, strength, and hope we had as we limped together down the happy road of destiny.

To finish the week off, my wife and I attended a number of large social gatherings where people welcomed Spring rambunctiously. Standing with my bottled water, I listened and participated in the lively conversations until the others began to slur. Walking home at night, I thought back to my life on the other side of the river. I was tempted to romanticize the way I once walked, but an email waiting for me at home from a long-ago friend asking for help with his drinking problem reminded me not only of my limp I received , but also the blessing I was given.