For a woman I do not know by name

She brushed by me in the church foyer, then paused and turned back. My mind raced to fill in the gaps of a story I do not know. She was older, although I imagine her dance with a broken world has given her an excess of wrinkles in return for a few teeth. She looked weary, weighed down by her literal and, I imagine, emotional baggage. Souvenirs from a long, long journey, no doubt. I do not know, but I am guessing she was carrying all she owns on her back. I am quite positive she has no home, although even that I do not know for sure.

"Will you pray for me?" She mumbled in a way I nearly missed. In that moment, my soul surged. Connection. There is a space where two stories intersect, two souls pause to mingle together in a frantic, chaotic world. I don't know her story, but I imagine she does not experience much connection. Yet, in that moment she bravely asked for what she probably could not even name.

"Yes, I would love to! What is your name?" I touched her hand gently, perhaps a misstep in a moment that soon spiraled through my own fingertips before I could even grasp the threads. Panic crossed her face in a split millisecond, and before I could make sense of what was happening, she mumbled something more and dashed away into the crowd of people gathered at the entryway.

I am sad as I wonder where this sweet lady's journey has taken her to cause such fear at the mere thought of being known by name. In that moment as I watched her slip away, I was reminded of another woman who once slipped through a crowd, anonymously seeking wholeness.

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"A woman was there who had been subject to bleeding for twelve years. 26 She had suffered a great deal under the care of many doctors and had spent all she had, yet instead of getting better she grew worse. 27 When she heard about Jesus, she came up behind him in the crowd and touched his cloak, 28 because she thought, “If I just touch his clothes, I will be healed” (from Mark 5).

I can only imagine the tortured life she had lived. Deemed unclean, unworthy of human connection or touch because of blood she could not stem. What must it feel like to be so ostracized? To be cast out and forgotten, to know that everyone around you finds your condition disgusting and communicable? She had spent every dime she owned seeking a cure for the bleeding, not realizing that her greatest need was actually a balm for her bleeding, anonymous soul. 

She slipped through the crowd and touched him, wanting to be healed but not known. I love that, in that moment, Jesus demonstrated a truth I continue to learn: Wholeness is only complete in knowing and being known. He pursued her, not content to leave her physically whole but anonymous and broken inside. He called her out, no doubt seeking connection with this one who was connection-barren.

"30 At once Jesus realized that power had gone out from him. He turned around in the crowd and asked, “Who touched my clothes?” 31 'You see the people crowding against you,' his disciples answered, 'and yet you can ask, ‘Who touched me?’' 32 But Jesus kept looking around to see who had done it. 33 Then the woman, knowing what had happened to her, came and fell at his feet and, trembling with fear, told him the whole truth. 34 He said to her, 'Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace and be freed from your suffering'" (from Mark 5). 

Ah, the healing in being fully known and yet embraced! In my mind's eye, I see him cup her face tenderly, drawing her eyes to his as he speaks those words that were a balm for her wounded soul. Daughter...Daughter. To be named daughter, even as she is fully exposed! The truth of her disease was laid bare and touched by the One who was most pure and holy and good. He did not cringe or draw back like her religious community most likely had; he pressed in and pursued. He sought to know her, to give her connection and belonging in the place of anonymity, the disease she did not even know she had. And it was in being fully known that she was fully healed.

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I do not know the story, or even the name, of that dear woman I encountered yesterday. I did pray for her, even as she slipped away into the crowd still clinging to her anonymity. Mostly, I prayed that she would find healing in being fully known and fully loved. I pray that for myself, too. Because we all have moments when we want the healing without the knowing, don't we? We want to be whole, but we also want to remain anonymous, our souls shrouded by whatever mask we put on in any given moment. Oh, that we would put off our anonymous selves and pursue true wholeness in being named and known! For it is in the knowing that we will be whole.