I’m not leaving until I get answers. No one else can fix my daughter. No one else can heal my daughter. He’s my last chance of finding an answer. My last hope.
It’s exhausting taking care of an unstable child. I never know if she’s going to hurt herself or hurt someone else. I can’t remember the last time I had a full night’s rest. At the least little sound, I wake up to make sure she hasn’t gotten up out of her bed to wander away.
I have no privacy because I can’t leave her alone. When we are in public, I tie a piece of fabric around my waist and attach the other end around her waist. People give me all kind of looks, but it is truly the only way I can keep her from running off.
I’m used to getting weird looks in public. I hear the comments under peoples’ breath. “What’s wrong with that child?” “Somebody needs to get ahold of that girl." “Why doesn’t she leave her at home?” I don’t have a choice. I don’t have the energy to explain to everyone what is wrong with my daughter. And as for “getting ahold of that girl,” well, something already has a hold on her. And while I wish I could leave her home, I can’t.
Isolated is how I feel. Isolated and overwhelmed. We have family, but who wants to be around us, when she behaves the way she does. I’ve had friends, but they come and go. Mainly go. No one I know has walked in my shoes. There’s no one I can go to for guidance or help.
But I heard there’s someone coming to town who can heal my daughter. I’m going to track him down, and I’m not leaving until he heals her. No one else will fight for my daughter. It’s up to me.
I fasten the fabric to my waist and secure the other end to my daughter. I lead her as best as I can, but I think she must sense something because her violence and reactions are stronger than normal. We make our way through the market. People typically clear a wide path when she’s in one of these fits.
I see him. I walk up to him. My daughter becoming more and more violent, screeching, spewing like a rabid dog. I yelled out, “Have mercy on me, Lord, Son of David! My daughter is cruelly tormented by a demon.” At first, I think he doesn’t hear me, so I repeat it over and over until he has to pay attention to me. I am not going away until something happens.
His followers go to him. I can’t exactly hear everything they are saying because my daughter’s behavior is so erratic. I know they are discussing me. I know I’m making a scene which is ironic because it’s normally my daughter disturbing the peace, but I’ll do whatever it takes to get to him to heal my daughter.
They separate a little, and I make my move. I kneel down in front of him. I can’t hold back the floodgate of tears. “Lord, help me!” All the weight I have been carrying in taking care of my daughter became too heavy to bear.
He looks at me, and for the first time, he said. “It isn’t right to take the children’s bread and throw it to their dogs.” I’m not insulted. I know he’s here for the Jews, and I’m not Jewish, but there’s no reason why he can’t heal my daughter like he does the Jews.
“Yes, Lord, yet even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their masters’ table!” I have nothing to lose. I’ll be the beloved, little, lap dog. Just heal my daughter.
That’s when Jesus looks me in the eyes and speaks directly to me, “Woman, your faith is great. Let it be done for you as you want.”
And just like that it was over. I look up at Him to make sure I heard Him correctly, but at the same time, the fierce pulling on my belt has stopped. Immediately, I look for my daughter, and she is standing calmly by my side, clear eyed, smiling. She isn’t drooling, screeching, pulling, hitting or all the things I had known her to do.
How can I not cry!? I scoop her up in my arms as relief washes over me.
When I look back up, Jesus had moved on toward another group of people who needed healing. I begin replaying everything in my mind. “Woman, your faith is great.” He said my faith was great. I had been at the end of my rope. Jesus was my only hope. He was all I had, and He didn’t disappoint.
My daughter is healed. She’s beautiful and smart. She smiles. We have conversations. We go out into public without incident. I never really knew life could be this good.
This story can be found in Matthew 15:21-28. A Gentile mom was in desperate need of a Healer, a Physician for her daughter. Jesus didn’t degrade her by referring her to a dog, and she understood His point. Jesus had come to the Jews first, but because of her faith, He rewarded her.
Are you desperately seeking Jesus about anything in your life? Are you seeking His healing and restoration? He is faithful.
In Her Sandals is my attempt to slip on the sandals of women in the Bible. I research and read to find out traditions and ways for that time. Then I read her story asking questions about what did she feel, think, smell, touch, see, and I write what I might have done. I do not want to add or take away from Scripture, but rather maybe a different perspective or point of view.