Daughter...

touching the hem of His garment...

For thus says the Lord God, the Holy One of Israel:

"In returning and rest you shall be saved;

In quietness and confidence shall be your strength."

- Isaiah 30:15

The month of November has become such a special month for me - it brings so many tender memories, both old and recent.

November 1 is the day our extended family in Bacolod gather to remember our loved ones who are already in heaven.

November 2 is my husband Ernie's birthday.

November 5 is my second born son's birthday.

November 13 is my second grandson's birthday.

November 19 is the day I remember the day my own mother passed away 29 years ago.

November 23 is the day Abba Father called my beloved Ernie home, six years ago.

Not only that... on the 8th of this month, my third grandson Joyful One, turned one month old.

On the 25th, two days after I arrived here in Metro Manila, my gradeschool best friend Cynthia, and I spent a half day together at Rockwell in Makati. She resides in the US and was in town for a few days for the death of her dad.. I hope that even in a small way, I was able to comfort her in her sorrow.

Just today, the last day of the month, my maternal first cousins and I and our families had a family reunion, something I had long wanted to happen. The last time we were together was in 2006, eight years ago.

And on the 21st and 22nd of this month, we had the More Than Enough Women's Conference, hosted by our church. It was at this conference that God spoke deeply to my heart... making it the defining event for this month that is about to end.

These past four months I sense that I have entered a different season. Again, words are not adequate to express what I mean. I sense a quietness... a hiddenness... a gentleness... but at the same time I sense an inner restlessness.

In my sacred journey, I am standing at a crossroads.

There is something stirring inside of me that I can't quite define.

A longing for fresh truth, a hunger for something deeper... something more.

Not in any physical, or material sense, but there seems to be a dull ache, an inner emptiness that is longing to be filled with the deep things of God.

Looking around my home, the rooms, the closets full of stuff, the bookshelves lined with hundreds of books, the big crates of things from my earlier years waiting to be sorted out...

I realize many of them are really not important anymore.

This life will soon come to an end, and my heart cries to live only a life that matters for eternity.

I had planned to return to Manila on the second week of this month. But a Voice within urged me to stay for the More Than Enough conference; it was something I could not afford to miss.

When Rica Bonifacio began to tell her story on Friday afternoon, my heart was gripped.

She spoke about the woman who had a flow of blood for twelve years. This has been my favorite gospel story. Each time I heard it, or read it, it never failed to infuse a fresh encouragement into my heart.

Rica said that the first time she encountered this story many years ago, she was that woman with the hemorrhage; beautiful on the outside, but bleeding on the inside. And it drove her to her knees... gave her fresh hope after she responded in genuine humility, touched the hem of Jesus' garments, and she was healed.

As I sat at that conference listening to Rica's words, I was having my own personal dialogue with Jesus.

That woman did not even have a name. She had no identity. She was considered defiled by her bleeding... and therefore, she was an outcast, shunned by society. She had to live her life in the dark shadows, her presence never missed, her voice never heard. 

But what touches my heart the most is the way this woman never gave up hope. She used up all her resources going from doctor to doctor... and finally when all seemed lost, she hears of Jesus who is passing that way. And she heads for Capernaum, commentaries say it was a good 30 miles from where she lived.

While the rest of the people thronged around Jesus... she purposely crawls behind him to touch the tassel of His shawl, hoping to steal a miracle, and then to quietly disappear into the crowd.

Her faith did not fail her.

Jesus stops for her, not at all perturbed by this seeming interruption, and for her sake, asks the question that she alone can answer.

Who touched me?

The woman knew the question was aimed at her... and a surge of confidence empowers her to come out in the open. She no longer cared that the others around her would hear what she had done.

In humility she admits her need of healing, and in doing so declares her faith in Jesus, the Life-giver. In response, He calls her, "Daughter."

My tears are falling profusely at this point. I no longer hear what Rica is saying.

Instead I hear Jesus asking, "Who touched me?" A question addressed to me personally. 

I heard my Savior saying to me:
Admit your need of Me, in this season of your life when you are not sure of your future direction... 
wondering if there is still any big assignment for you... 
asking if you are taking the right steps... 
just quietly looking at your life... your past, your present, and your future... 
and thinking of many other unspoken concerns weighing your heart down...
Admit that you feel like that woman crawling in the shadows... 
longing for a special touch from Me.

It was a defining moment for me, really.

I admit it Lord... I need You. 
There is longing deep inside for me to live the second half of my life with meaning, and with purpose. 
A recent event has wounded my heart Lord.  
Remove that arrow embedded in my heart by the Father of Lies, 
a tiny arrow that has caused my heart to bleed... 
I need You to restore my true identity... 
I admit that I need You to speak truth to Me. 
And yes, I admit I have reached out often to touch the tassels of Your shawl.

tassels, or tzitziyot

The tassels of Jesus' shawl stood for His authority and identity, His power, His stature.

People thronged around him... unaware of who He really was, the Redeemer, the Holy One of Israel.

Most of them didn't really care.

They honored Him with their lips.

Their worship was contrived and perfunctory.

But what about you, who do you say I am? Jesus asks me.

I have no doubt... You are the Christ... the Messiah... my Savior... my Healer... my Lord.

His words to the woman... were His words to Rica... and to me as well:

Daughter, your faith has made you well...

Jesus honors the woman for her faith. Restores her identity... not just any common identity... but Daughter.

A daughter of the king...  a royal identity... a noble status.

Thank You, Jesus for giving me a new name.

I name this month, Daughter.

I arrived here in Manila a week ago, the 23rd of the month... a memorable day for it is the day my husband passed away six years ago.

But with the encounter I had with Jesus just two days earlier still fresh on my heart, I knew that a season was coming to an end...

My heart is being prepared for something new.

In returning and rest you shall be saved...

In quietness and confidence shall be your strength.

These words resonate within my heart, as this beautiful, gentle month comes to an end. 

Good-bye November, and I thank you. You were so good to bring me many old and new beautiful memories to warm my heart for years to come. 

December... don't go by too quickly. Take your time... stay a while. I want to savor slowly what Abba Father has in store.

The Promise
Daybreak in Central Virginia, USA
Taken in December 2013