December’s Healing Touch – Denise M. Ford

December often uncovers how greatly we need to be healed. Our physical conditions become more difficult to endure.  Memories magnify our emotional griefs.  Friend or family gatherings remind us of relationship rifts we need to mend.

As we look toward the birth of Jesus coming to save mankind, I am always reminded of the woman who looked towards Jesus to heal her. And I think of Jesus’s robe, swirling before this woman as she reached to be healed.

Every December during my childhood, my mother sewed beautiful red velvet dresses for my sister and me.  She would carefully pin the hems of our dresses as we turned and modelled them for her.  The brush of velvet would slide over my bare knees and I would feel beautiful, transformed by the smooth folds of soft material.

At this time of year, it is the feeling of brushing against velvet that covers me with healing hope.  What if in the moment when we reach for Jesus’ robe, it feels like red velvet?  I close my eyes and picture myself lying upon it. I am wrapping myself in it.  Over and over again I turn until I am swaddled like a baby, ready to be cradled within loving arms.

I want to reach and tuck that velvet securely beneath me and pull it over me, so that I am not exposed to anyone or anything.  I want to be sure that it would trail behind me and not release me. I know I will begin tossing myself within my doubts and struggles, so I don’t want to cause it to unfurl.

Oh, sweet Jesus, we look with expectation to celebrate your birth. We picture the image of your mother Mary tenderly enfolding you in woven cloth. Oh, I wonder how you felt?  When that first brush of human touch and love held you, did you feel beautiful?

As Mary stroked your cheeks in awe, did she experience a sensation of healing? In that moment after your birth, did the shame and disapproval of her unwed pregnancy dissolve? Did her own disappointment and fears release into relief? Was she healed from her struggles of doubt, her questioning of her faith, and her wavering trust for your coming, for your birth, for her Messiah?

As you grew, Mary clothed you with robes to give you warmth and protection.  Did she know that the threads she spun and wove together couldn’t contain the healing power within you?

As you left your mother’s home, did you throw on one of the robes she had spun for you? Did it comfort you? Her fingers had nimbly selected and lifted each thread for the loom, while her prayers flowed in time to the continual motion. Her prayers voicing her faithful trust in you.

At this time of year, I picture the woman who reached out to touch you as you the Messiah fully grown walked before her.  She grasped for your robe wanting healing, believing that even just a touch, just a stroke from you would heal her.

Did your robe brush against her skin like velvet at Christmastime? 

Ah Jesus, we look with expectation and hope for you, as we lay down our struggles, our griefs, and our hurts.  We know that when we faithfully reach out to grasp hold of your promises, you continue to heal us in the ways you know we need. Your healing touch transforms us as surely and as reassuringly as the brush of velvet at Christmastime.