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A Day in the Life of a Carpenter

By @Joyful17

The Hope of a Single Touch

The crowd shuffles and twists, small trails of people snake through the mess. Shouting, the clipping of hooves, and touch of bodies crammed, fills the sky in a stew-boiled rat nest. Brown sandals, dusty clothes, and sickly-sweet caramel horses. Monotonous déjà vu. A woman gazes from a window above, looking at no one in particular. She longs to be welcomed, noticed, loved, but no one can look up from their troubles long enough to see that she is hurting.

****A Quick Question****

Have you ever felt like nobody sees you? Don’t be afraid, you are seen and loved fully.

Her long brown hair falls out the window, gray specks speckle like tiny cobwebs in her hair. She ducks her head as her neighbor passes by, ashamed of her condition, and the scars on her heart. He didn’t accept her, no one did. Not even her husband, who died and left her barely enough money to pay for someone, anyone, to fix her, to heal her. She glances back up, and Someone catches her glance. Don’t ask how she knew who He was, but she did. She knew. She saw Him, the Healer, the One who preforms miracles. He looked ordinary, nothing special, but she could tell by the way He held Himself, and the shear look of compassion painting the glorious glow on His face, that He was unearthly. She started to rush downstairs, towards the street, just hoping for one more glance. She pauses on the stairs, her breath stuck in her throat. What if… her thoughts trail off, sprinting down several of pathways, each with a dismal and terrifying end. What if He, He doesn’t even look at me? I mean, I am disgusting. How could He touch me? I am unclean. She almost turns back, but a small fracture of hope spurns her on.


The thing that motivates people, the emotion the ends wars, brings people together, and changes lives. The thing that gives to many the purpose to simply exist. It is something that no human soul lacks. Whatever and wherever you are, have hope. It carries and it holds. It is better than whatever else you are grasping at. 

She stops outside the door. Lost. Confused. Just like so many times before. She can’t see Him.

“Excuse me. Out of the way please.” She whispers as she slips through the crowd. People part quickly, not wanting to be touched by such a woman.

She catches a glimpse of His tunic. Her hand reaches out, and touches the fabric. It is coarse, and thin, dusty from many travels. The crowd envelops her again. He turns quickly and searches the crowd. What have I done? I have made Him unclean as well. 

Who touched Me?” The words are quiet, but fill the marketplace. Instantly the sounds are hushed, as everyone waits for an answer. 

None reply.

“Rabbi, there are so many people around, anyone could have touched you.” Says Peter.

“No, someone deliberately touched Me, for I felt healing power go out from Me.” The Carpenter says, looking straight at her. 

She gazes into the depths of His hazel eyes, terrified, She can’t see the small grin on His face, that acknowledges her, loves her. She stands, not noticing that the bleeding has stopped. The first time in twelve years. She unsteadily walks towards Him. She falls, shaking to her knees.

“I touched You. I saw You from my window; I wanted to be healed. I just needed to touch Your robe, that’s all. I am sorry Jesus, so so sorry…” Her voice cracks and streams off into sobs.

He looks at her. The gaze is matched. His eyes tell her everything, “I love you. I made you this way, so you would come to Me. Don’t be ashamed, I am here to take that away too. Why are you scared to make Me unclean? Don’t you know that I have held you since before time?’

“Daughter,” the deep sound resounds in her soul, warming it. “Your faith has made you well. Go in peace.”

****A Small Comparison****

Do you remember the last time I spoke of peace? The Carpenter rebuked the fishermen for their unbelief, their lack of faith. How could this woman, only hearing rumors about Him, trust Him more then His own disciples?

He dries her eyes. A hand falls on her shoulder, and a smile emerges from her. Known, and cherished. Broken, and yet healed. The beauty as well as the irony. And the hope, that comes from a single touch.

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