Abigail took me by the hand. “We must go as quickly as we can, Momma. We don’t know how long it will take for us to get there,”
I had been up early and had spent some time getting myself dressed and ready for the day. I usually had my garments laid out each night so that I wouldn’t have to find them in the morning. Making a decision of what to wear was a difficulty that I so often tried to avoid. I had memorized each step in my house and I could manage quite well in my own environment. Going outside was a different story. I felt as though I was blindfolded and that all I needed to do, to see, was to remove the rag that was wrapped around my head. I wanted to see. I was engulfed in darkness. Everywhere I stepped, outside my own house was like an obstacle course. I had to rely on my hearing. I had lost my eyesight and I was trying my best to cope.
“Momma, please hurry,” my daughter called, “many people will be gathering and we will miss our opportunity.”
The sun warmed our skin as Abigail and I made our way out of the house and down the street that led into our little village. We could hear the crowd. Voices in desperation called out to him. “Master, heal me!” Abigail and I were approaching the area where we heard that this man was healing the multitudes. I could only hear the people. I couldn’t see how many were actually gathered.
“Come, Momma,” Abigail whispered. “Just hold on tightly to my hand. I’m going to take you through the crowd to him.”
My daughter latched on to my arm. I stumbled over a rock and almost fell. I could feel the people crowding around me as Abigail pulled at me. “Excuse us,” I said. But, the people didn’t hear me. The noise of their cries was deafening. She kept pulling me, leading me through the crowd, calling out her own supplication. I had no time to be afraid or doubt. My daughter had a mission and I had to submit to whatever she wanted to do.
“Wait your turn,” a man yelled as Abigail pushed her way through the crowd. “Can’t you see that the man is trying to touch everyone that needs him?”
My sweet daughter, the only child of my short term marriage, was pulling me harder. “Momma, stay with me. He is just a few feet away from us. Keep your hand in mine and try to move with me. It won’t be long, Momma.”
I could sense her desperation as she maneuvered us both through the mass of anguished humanity. I could feel her passion to get me to the man. She had never had this kind of force. Her voice got louder and louder. “Let us through! Step aside! Please let me through!”
Finally, she stopped. I heard her gently say, “Master, my momma is blind. Will you touch her eyes?” I felt her gently push me forward. I stood silent and still, waiting and listening.
I could hear the man quietly say something. He was praying. I felt warm hands gently touch my face. Every nerve seemed extended to respond to his connection. Although his hands were gentle, they were calloused, as if he had spent years doing hard work. He had authority in his touch and didn’t back away at my anxious expression.
When he spoke, his voice was as soothing as a gentle summer wind. He leaned closer to my ear, as if to speak inside my soul, “Be healed,” he whispered. “Open your eyes.”
In a short amount of time, my life flashed before me. I remembered the many years of learning to adjust to the darkness. I would constantly wonder if I would ever see light again.
At first, my eyelids seemed heavy. In what seemed like an eternity, I tried to open my eyes. As I did, I started to squint. Just as darkness had been extreme a moment ago, the light was as brilliant. I was almost embarrassed that I was taking so long to obey this man’s command. My eyes started to adjust to the light. “I can see!” I whispered. Then, as I looked into the smiling face of the man who had healed me, I shouted without restrain, “I can see! Once I was blind, but now I see!”
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