there was a loud commotion along the streets. everyone seemed to be excited for something. large crowd of curious on-lookers flooded the place. the crowd, dust in the air, busy chatterings; made everything looked so messy. in the atmosphere was expectancy, the people wanted to see something spectacular.
she heard their words. people were touched by the prophet and were healed in the temple. blind eyes could see. the lame was walking again. the sound of celebration from the streets by those who recieved their miracle was too loud to be ignored. it caught her. she wanted to be a part of it. she wanted her own miracle.
she hurried to get her as she put on her best garment, her best look head dress and left the house. she joined the lines in the crowd in their march toward the miracle maker. she kept a low profile, ignoring eye contacts with anyone, blending into the surronding, avoiding any unwanted attention from herself. she was not allowed to walk on the streets with the rest of the people, for they called her unclean and impure. by their self-righteous acts they cast her out and rejected her from the community. she suffered great rejection and felt out of place.
refusing to give up on her miracle, she pressed on. in her pursuit she focused her thoughts on her own miracle. "if only i could touch the miracle man, i would be made whole again," she thought to herself...
her eyes brightened up as she saw him. he was finely dressed, with sharp looking features. a young man in his thirties. he was surronded by multitudes of people. sea of people followed him patiently, witnessing the miracle accounts first hand.
she had never walked so much in the past 12 years. her condition forbit her to. she had walked so far beyond her comfort zone. she began to felt tired, weak, heavy on the head. but she was a persistent women.
single-mindedly, she begun to examine her best options to get to him. she figured her best chance would be going a little futher ahead, if she would ever get the chance to touch him...or even see him ever again.
she reached alittle a head of Jesus. her heart was pounding so hard, she found it hard to breathe.
she waited in expectancy. her hopes were up. than suddenly, she saw the ruler of the temple. the man who had once chased her down the streets to get her out of the community. the man who rejected her and percieved her as unclean, unfit to be part of the rest of the people.
he would never let her get near Jesus. discouragements sunk in. impossibility seemed like a unchangeable reality. she was ready to abort her plans. flashbacks began to run through her head. how she had suffered the past twelve years. she did not want to live like she did. she wanted a change. she believed for something more to life than sitting around to wait and die.
"if im gona die, i rather die trying," she said in her heart.
She mastered all the strength she could and went down on all four on the floor. she didn't wana be seen and chased away. so she decided to crawl instead. her hands, her clothes, her face and her hair were covered in dust. someone stepped on her weak fingers,and it hurt. another kicked her from the side, and the pain was unbearable.
finally she came close enough. Jesus was passing by and she saw her chance for a miracle. She gathered evey last strength she could and push forward. she stretched out her hands and touched the hem of his garment.
she felt eletricity went through the body, heat from her hand down all the way to her body. she felt strength being renewed in her physical body. there was a transformation in her body. in that split second, she caught her healing-and she could feel her healing happening right inside of her. she felt the release she sought for.
Jesus turned, saw her and had compassion on her. He lifted her up and spoke with words so gentle and kind : "Daughter, be encouraged! Your faith has made you well."
One touch.
And it changed her life.
