That’s twelve years.
Twelve years could quickly pass, or it could slowly creep by, especially if you had some type of medical condition.
Imagine waking up every morning, sick.
You go to doctors, but they have no cure.
You spend all of your money trying to buy a cure that no one has.
You lose everything you have, to include your dignity.
Shame escapes you as you look for a cure, a temporary fix, anything.
You want a day when people do not look at you with sympathy in their eyes.
You just want one good day.
You remember life before you were sick.
You remember how you took that care free life for granted.
Will you ever get it back?
Society looks at you and cringes.
They can see your sickness on you.
You begin to become your sickness.
Everyday, it is still there and everyday, you anticipate it.
Will I still be sick in the morning?
Will it be noticeable?
Can I go unnoticed, today?
Or will I be pointed out?
Who will help me today?
Who will have pity on my broken soul?
I don’t want pity.
I want to be healed.
Want turns to desperation.
Desperation turns to intentions.
You would think: “If I could just touch Him.
He would heal me.
But what will people say?
Will they cast me away?
I am sick.
I need something.
I’m going for it.
How much longer will this last?
People will think I’m crazy.
I’ve got nothing to lose.
He will heal me, just like He’s healed others”.
You will do what it takes to get better.
Your options have run out.
You would fight a crowd.
Let them stare.
You would face humiliation.
You would overcome.
You would grab on to the hem of His garment.
And not let go.