And Jacob called the name of the place Peniel: for I have seen God face to face, and my life is preserved. And as he passed over Penuel the sun rose upon him, and halted upon his thigh. Genesis 32:30-31

On the other side of the first half of my life, I have stopped.  To reflect.

On Jacob, wrestling with God.  Who came to wrestle.  With Jacob.

On parenthood, and me, wrestling with my kids when they were young, having tantrums.  Meltdowns.  How sometimes, I would just move in close to their wild flailing about and scoop them in my arms.  Hold them.  To outsiders, it probably looked more like a wrestling match.  Because their growing independence demanded that they rebel.  Against me.  Separate.  From me.  And how, after a while.  When they had spent.  Themselves.  Exhausted.  Their resources.  Striving.  Achieving.  Moving.  On.  Becoming.  Adult.  They would collapse.  Into my arms.  Rest in my love. Find security in their dependence on me.

On daughterhood. How I so often rebelled against the good authority of my parents. Thought I knew better. How I stretched the limits of the tether they had tied to me. for my well being. And how their stakes had been firmly planted, in the garden of Truth, by their Father. That the tether would not break. As they trained me up in the way I should go that when I was old I would not depart from it.

On birth, when a baby is first born.  How so much freedom and light and sound is frightening when she is accustomed to the small, dark, space in the womb where the sounds from the outside are absorbed and muffled.  Filtered.  For her senses.  The baby.  So helpless.  Flails about.  Cries.  Startles.  At all that freedom. Is blinded by all that light.  Yet she is calmed.  Quieted.  Settled.  When tightly wrapped.  Bound.  In a blanket.  Held.  In steadfast arms.  Snuggled into the chest until her eyes adjust and she can see her parent face to face.  She rests, protected from the sights and sounds and all the freedoms of a world, too big for her smallness.

And I realize.  Upon reflection.

I am a baby. I am a daughter. I am a child. I am Jacob.  In a world, too big for my smallness.

In this second half of my life - what's left of it, not much has changed.  For me.  In my relationship with my Father. Since I was born.

I am.  A helpless baby.  With more freedom than I can handle. I am a daughter still being trained up by my Father.  I am. A child rebelling against my Parent. I am Jacob.  Wound in my thigh, wrestling with God, who came to wrestle.Hold. me.  Calm my flailing about.  Cease my coping mechanisms.  Settle down my dysfunctions. Quiet my pride. Cast away my sin.  That all grow like thorns and snares, planted in me, deep down in my first garden.  

Thank God, He walks in my garden in the cool of the day, calling out to me, “Where art thou?”  As I play hide and seek. And He finds me. Binds me. In His blanket of love. Tightly wraps me and grasps me. In His Palms of Providence. Keeps me.  In the womb of the morning.  Where I can collapse.  Into. His Arms That Rock. me. See Him. face to face. as He sings over me. songs of deliverance.

It is well now. With my soul. On the other side of the first half of my life. It is but a reflection of the first half of my life, where it is also well now, with my soul. For The Sun has risen. Upon me. And halts upon my thigh. Where I see the reflection of His, for I am His and He is mine.

Thorns and snares are in the way of the crooked; whoever guards his soul will keep far from them. Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it. Proverbs 22:5-6

And he hath on his vesture and on his thigh a name written, KING OF KINGS, AND LORD OF LORDS. Revelation 19:16

©2021 Jeanne Whitman all rights reserved