The hemorraging woman.The cloak of hope.
Pushing her way through the crowd.
"If I can just get close enough to touch it."
Her fingers touch the hem.
He stops.
"Who touched me?"
Is the question because he does not know?
Or is the question because he wants to hear the faith of the woman who reached out?
Does he want to hear the words of the woman who believed?
To have the ears around him listen to her deep seeded faith?
The touch of his cloak.
The daily bleeding that smelled offensive to herself and others.
It kept her away from close relationships.
Perhaps a marital relationship.
It embarrassed her.
It tormented her for years.
There was no cure in those days like there is today.
He was her only hope.
The touch of his cloak.
Healing poured out.
He felt it
She felt it.
They shared a moment.
She shared a moment with the Savior who would one day arise.
Then one day return and bring her home. Amen.
