We argue, we fight, we maneuver,
we triumph, we despair,
and Jesus holds us
in his loving arms.
We fight and fling and grasp,
we are right or wrong,
we listen or do not listen,
we stake our turf, we hurt each other,
and Mother Christ holds us
in her only arms.
We argue as if
those crucial arms are not there.
We do not notice them, bloodied,
or rest in them.
The whole time we are throwing things
at each other God is holding us,
not agreeing or disagreeing,
just holding us,
all of us,
weeping for joy and sorrow.