As I sat and played with sweet baby June the other morning, I couldn’t help but be amazed. She was picking up different shaped blocks and trying to find where they went into the roof of a wooden house. I was truly fascinated. The troubleshooting going on was impeccable. She would rotate and twist the bock until finally, it smoothly slid into the shape’s window and clunked into the bottom of the house. June’s face was pure joy.

It was at this time that I decided to download an early admissions application to Harvard, and began filling in the required fields.

However, my thought process was halted moments later as I was suddenly hit with a flying object. A red plastic cylinder.

I turned to June, who didn’t even look the least bit sorry. She had more on her mind. Armed with another block in her tiny little hand, her expression said it all. She was beyond frustrated. Instead of twisting and turning with finesse and focus, she proceeded to slam the block into the wooden house repeatedly while screaming at the top of her lungs.

Oh, dear, sweet, adorable, fit-throwing June… don’t you know you can’t force things in life? The square doesn’t go in the circle… and it never will, my darling. Please, let’s try it this way… Oh, oh, ouch! So we’re throwing things again? I see how this is going to play out… I guess I’m putting a pin in this Harvard application, missy. It’s time for a nap…

For both of us.

Time and and time again, my moments with June are teaching me about moments in life. MY life. If I am honest with myself, I have definitely tried to fit some circles into square holes, twisted and turned my attempts and then slammed, thrown and screamed when it doesn’t go as planned. I am 100% guilty of relying on my own ways.

I guess I still have a tendency to be a giant baby when it comes to reaching out and handing things over.

By contrast, someone who is known for her extraordinary trust can be found in Luke chapter 8.

In church this past Sunday, we read about the woman who was hemorrhaging for 12 years. She shuffled through the thick crowd in hopes of simply touching Jesus’ clothes. 12 years of suffering… not just a hard day here and there. But rather- what seemed like a lifetime of turmoil, hurt and isolation. I’ve heard this story dozens of times, and I’ve always focused on her physical condition. But this time, I found myself honing in on the condition of her heart. And as a result, a new version of hope and encouragement found its way into mine.

My pastor approached his sermon with this angle- WE are just like that woman, at her core. We are all in crisis of sorts, and therefore, holding an opportunity for faith in the palm of our hands.

We. Us. Humans. For over 2000 years.

We, too, have “heard” of this Jesus character. We’ve been told stories of his amazing feats, miracles and power. Some of us know much of him, some very little. Some of us have given him whole hearts, some are paralyzed with fear and hurt.

But is he worthy of our trust? Does his resume simply peak our interest or earn our complete surrender? Will we run to him first? Or only as a last resort?

The woman in this story was the later, on all accounts. But my take away from the sermon was that this woman acted with less knowing about and more trusting in, even when all looked lost and it seemed far into the second act. The battle was not won by the strength of her faith, it was the mere presence of it. It was enough…and great was the reward.

We, too, might be searching for the answers in all the wrong places as this hurting woman was. But let us never forget that 2000 years after this story, Jesus is here for us now. We don’t have to fight the crowds or search far and wide. He’s been there all along, right beside you. Try to feel him at this very moment. In whatever you are experiencing- prologue, intermission or finale.

What if you, too, reached out for the loose hem of his clothing, (with even a mustard seed of faith) trusting in what he can do, believing that He is everything you’ve heard of? This beautiful account reminds us that it’s never too late.

Close your eyes and breathe in these lyrics…

( it’s a video- so just click on the picture)

He is more than a feeling. Let him be your healing. It all starts with a simple touch.