This is part 2 of my personal exercise with sacred story, using the story of Jacob from the book of Genesis.  To read part 1, click here.

I have one more way that my life resonates with the story of Jacob, one that tells the story of something that is not yet for me complete. And that story is in Gen 32:22-32, the famous overnight wrestling match. Interpreters disagree – was Jacob wrestling with God, or an Angel, or with himself or…? The text is not specific, leaving those of us reading the story some 2000 years later plenty of room for creative interpretation. That is not really the part of the story that draws me, however. What strikes me with such similarity is that Jacob fought, he wrestled with an unknown being/shadow self, whatever; he was injured, and then, everything changed. His name changed. And most of all, his relationship to his brother changed. As we read in 33:4-17, the brothers reconciled at last: “But Esau ran to meet him, and embraced him, and fell on his neck and kissed him, and they wept (33:4).”

Almost a year ago now, my beloved beagle, Gracie, died of a massive liver tumor. When I look at the last pictures of her, I only now can see the extent to which we were blinded to her illness.  We were unable to see that tumor and its size, and, I can only guess, the pain that it was causing her.

The very evening of the day that we finally made that unthinkable decision to ask the vet end her life, I was walking out of our house toward the car. I have no memory of why, but I do remember that it was darker than dark, and I was swimming in grief. I cannot imagine what I thought was so important that I had to leave and go somewhere. It is a short journey, from the house to the car. We have just three metal steps to go down to reach the patio. Just three steps, that is all there is. And in my grief, I missed the first one and the second one and yes, the third one, and I guess I

thought that I would make a giant single leap to the ground. Obviously, I failed. I fell head over heels and landed flat on the concrete patio. Apparently, I let out a scream that caused the neighbors to come running out of their houses. And for what seemed forever, I just lay there and sobbed. Luckily, I did not hit my head, but for days afterwards, my knee was swollen beyond all recognition. And I still have a scar from the scab on that knee, a scab that would have made any 7-year old boy proud.

The funny thing is, I immediately thought of Jacob and his midnight wrestling match. I too, was wrestling with someone or something that night. And like Jacob, I have a physical reminder of that night – an occasionally painful reminder because in my grief I did not take care of myself and I did not seek medical attention for that knee. No one has suggested that I change my name because of that night, but everything else in my life was changed by that event – by the need to make a terrible decision on behalf of a being I loved and by the physical reminder that has been left of the grief of that day. Truthfully, as we approach the anniversary of her death, I know that there is more to this story. I wish and pray that perhaps I, like Jacob, will experience some sort of reconciliation with my past or my fears because of my little wrestling match with those steps.

We will just have to see where the story takes me.