Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Dear God,

I touched his feet. The feet of Jesus called out to me. I saw the hem of his garment and I remembered the bleeding woman who dared in the crowd to crawl over to him and touch his hem. Jesus knew energy went out of him. She confessed.

There is something very meaningful to me as I look at the picture of Jesus. His hem, his feet. I would never dare touch his hand, his face. But his garment, his feet, that is a different matter.

I was at the retreat center when I saw the picture. I was immediately drawn to it. I thought surely healing was in the picture for me too. I touched his feet and asked for help. I touched his garment and asked for guidance. Healing was too big to ask for, so I asked for help and guidance. Healing could come as I reached for the others.

Day by day I would look at the picture until I was ready. And then one day I stood by the picture and kissed his feet. I gave thanks. I had found the courage I needed.

I remember the unfolding of this experience. How close I felt to the Jesus in the picture and to the Christ of my faith. I trusted in his help and guidance. I found my healing

Such memories
give me hope,
reminding me
that a close walk
with you
will bring me
to face-to-face encounters.
Even a picture
can bring comfort,
compassion, love
and mercy.
I trust in you
when I stop
and gaze.
You are
my hope.

Love, Andrea