Suffering from a hemorrhage...

This stack of painted pumpkins is at my friend's house.  So cute!  There's one just like it on the other side of the sidewalk.  They are faux pumpkins she purchased at Michael's.  She had her husband drill a hole and put sand in them so they wouldn't blow away in our lovely Panhandle wind.  Then she painted them.  She will be able to use them for many years to come. 
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As I began studying the different stories of Jesus' encounters with women, one of the first accounts that came to mind was about the woman who had suffered with a hemorrhage for twelve years.

Twelve years.  Think about it.  That would be like having "that time of the month" for twelve years!  Oh goodness!

The story found in Matthew 9 and Mark 5 records that she had been through many treatments at the hands of many physicians and nothing worked.  Nothing worked.

I've been down that road before.  Being critically ill and going from doctor to doctor, paying thousands of dollars for tests that were inconclusive - it can be so discouraging.  There were many times before I was diagnosed with celiac disease when I wished I could physically do what this woman did to be healed.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.

She had evidently heard that if you wanted to be healed, you had to go see the rabbi Jesus.  You need to understand something.  This woman was considered unclean because of the hemorrhage.  The last thing she could expect would be for a rabbi to lay his hands on her or have anything to do with her.

She was so desperate for healing that she came up behind him in a crowd and touched the fringe of his prayer shawl, reasoning that just touching his garment would bring the relief she craved.

She was right!  She was immediately healed and probably quietly turned to head home even though she wanted to shout and dance. She almost got away with it. But, this is Jesus we are talking about.  He immediately sensed power flowing from his body.

He turned and gave her the opportunity to fess up.  "Who touched my garments?"  The disciples couldn't believe their ears and reminded Jesus that he was in a crowd...he was touched constantly. 

But Jesus knew this woman needed more than healing.  She needed an encounter with him.  He caught her eye and she fell down before him in fear, shaking because she had not had his permission to touch his garments.  Before she knew it, the whole story came pouring out of her mouth.  I'm pretty sure she was crying...

Jesus didn't get mad at her, or condemn her, or show disgust at her ailment or her daring action.  He listened to her story, then he called her Daughter.  Daughter.  Like a loving father.  And told her that her faith had made her well, that she could go with peace in her heart because she had been healed physically and could now live without any of the affliction she had suffered from for twelve long years.  You don't have to see the words on the page - you know she loved him for the rest of her life.