…following from a distance…always following from a distance.
If only I could touch the edge of His Robe…I know that’s all it would take.
There are always people around Him as He walks…walking beside Him, walking backwards in front of Him to ask a question, following closely behind Him, chasing after Him to catch every word.
Sick of feeling sick, sick of its affect on my life
…how it affects everything I do.
In an instant, He could cure me!
I rush in to be part of the crowd and barely graze His Robe with my hand.
He spins around.
“Who touched My Garments?”
I speak up ~ more to explain His look to the others than to explain anything to Him. He looks into my eyes, but I know He sees inside. He knows that I touched Him. We understand one another.
What do I want to tell Him?
I remember…I was about five years old.
My family had heard that Jesus was walking through our town,
so we dropped everything to see Him and to hear Him talk.
With every step He took, the crowds surrounded Him, pressing in on Him to hear His every Word.
He had a gentle, but strong voice. He told stories and I was captivated by every word that He spoke.
At one point, He sat down on a big rock and the crowds gradually settled, sitting on the ground around Him. My neighbors were there…entire families. Some of them were pushing their kids in Jesus’ Direction, hoping that He would bless them.
Jesus’ Followers looked nervous as a few kids approached Him.
I stood about five feet away, wanting to get closer to Jesus too, but nervous that the Apostles would scold me too and push me back to my parents.
When the distance closed between us to about a foot or two,
I was completely enveloped in His Arms.
His Robe covered my shabby clothes and my cheek rested on His Chest.
slightly adapted from Cardinal Mercier’s Prayer