As a young man it did not
Occur to me that wrestling
Was permitted against a foe like God
Who could toss me around like a rag doll.
But that was before
My own son and I wrestled
And I allowed him to toss me around
As he stretched his limbs and flexed young muscles.
Our own matches were really love bouts
Where he learned how to trust me
And that my force and weight would not
Be used to harm him despite my power.
Today we do not wrestle and I miss it.
Our former intimacy and trust entwined our hearts
And did not seem strange or inappropriate.
How sad that time has changed our joints and our sensibilities.
I think God must feel the same way
As if other things have interrupted
Those sweaty bouts of strength against weakness
And he too grieves their loss.
So today I have returned to the ring
To wrestle with God like an older son
Who now realizes that nothing is more important
Than grappling with the God who wants a love match with me.