Day 27:

The woman with the issue of blood had been fighting the same battle for twelve years.

She had tried everything.

She had spent everything.

And instead of getting better, Scripture says she got worse.

I think that’s the part of her story I connect with most.

Because I know what it feels like to get tired of fighting.

For so much of my life, when something went wrong, I figured out what to do next.

I survived things I never imagined I would have to survive. I raised my children while carrying pieces of my own story I hadn’t completely healed from. I built a career, took care of other people, handled crisis after crisis, and somehow kept moving.

And somewhere along the way, I became really good at saying:

I’ll figure it out.

Even when I was exhausted.

Even when I didn’t know how.

Even when I probably should have admitted that I couldn’t keep doing everything on my own.

That’s why there’s something about this woman reaching for the hem of Jesus’ garment that gets me.

She wasn’t standing in front of Him with everything together.

She wasn’t giving some powerful speech about her faith.

She was exhausted.

She had already tried everything she knew to try.

And all she had left was:

If I can just reach Him.

I’ve had prayers like that.

Especially over this past year.

There were moments when I didn’t have some beautiful prayer to give God.

I had bills I didn’t know how I was going to pay.

I had a door close that I didn’t expect to close.

I had children who still needed their mom regardless of what I was carrying.

And there were days when my faith wasn’t some huge declaration.

Sometimes it was simply:

Jesus, I need You.

Just the hem.

Just enough faith to reach again.

And looking back now, I can see that while I was reaching for God to fix the things happening around me, He was doing something much deeper inside of me.

He was teaching me that I didn’t have to survive everything by myself anymore.

That I didn’t always have to be the woman who figured it out.

That I could actually depend on Him.

But my favorite part of this woman’s story is that Jesus didn’t let her disappear after she received her miracle.

He stopped.

He looked for her.

And He called her:

“Daughter.”

She had spent twelve years being known by what was wrong with her.

Jesus saw who she was underneath it.

And I think about how many years I allowed things that happened to me, things people thought about me, rejection, mistakes, survival, and hard seasons to become part of how I saw myself.

But Jesus doesn’t call me by any of those things.

He calls me His.

Maybe that’s why this story feels so different to me now.

Because I’m realizing I don’t always have to come to God strong.

I don’t have to have the right words.

I don’t have to know what happens next.

Sometimes I can simply reach.

And after everything I’ve lived through, I’m still reaching.

Maybe differently than I used to.

Maybe with less of “God, here’s what I need You to do” and more of “God, I just need You.”

Because sometimes you reach for His hand.

Sometimes all you can reach is the hem.

And the hem is still Jesus.