I admire my cousin Alice.
I admire her courage.
When she married the love of her life, Ed, Alice left her Baptist roots for Catholicism.
With their marriage, Ed’s work led them to multiple cities across America.
Not matter where they lived, Alice adjusted.
During those years, Alice became a highly skilled teacher.
No matter where she and Ed lived, children benefited from her teacher heart.
That same heart was useful in the raising of a daughter and son.
That heart is still a source of guidance and love for Ed and Alice’s four grandchildren. Those grands feel that love and support in any number of ways.
Over the last few years, Alice has been battling her health.
A mean melanoma and at times a quirky heart have attempted to wear Alice down.
Despite these health concerns, Alice has kept moving.
A girls trip to England, a family celebration in Boston, holiday family gatherings, beach trips(the latest to Anna Marie Island, Florida), and theater trips to watch her gifted brother perform in local productions.
At the end of May, Alice and Ed traveled to Richmond for the marriage of our youngest daughter. We were honored to have them with us.
That movement to those places is grounded in courage, a courage that says in a quiet way—“go to hell melanoma!”
On Sunday, July 12, we received a health update from Alice. She describe a long day at Duke Hospital on Friday, July 10 with lots of tests.
The doctor found that the current medication has lost its effectiveness in combatting the melanoma.
Options were discussed. Alice has decided to try one more medication.
Sadly, options are limited at this stage of Alice’s life.
In advocating for herself for other optional treatments, Alice said to her doctor, “but, I’m a young 77.”
What this conveyed to the doctor is—I can still fight. I’ve kept moving and active through all of these treatments. Don’t underestimate me because of my age.
Back on July 19, our senior pastor at Trinity United Methodist Church, Gina-Anderson Cloud focused on Luke Chapter 8. Part of these verses are about the woman with a lingering health challenge.
A large crowd of people had gathered around Jesus. Knowing his healing powers, the woman sees him and thinks— “if I can just touch his clothing I will be cured.”
She presses through the crowd just enough to briefly touch his clothing. Instantly, the woman’s health changes. And in that same instant, Jesus senses that a power has left his body.
Jesus challenges the crowd of people asking who had touched him.
Knowing that she couldn’t hold back the truth, the woman confirms to Jesus that she was the one touching his clothing. Jesus says to the woman: “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”
On Monday following the service, I told our senior pastor, I could not hold back my truth—I have always struggled with that scripture.
My struggle is because of my cousin Alice, and the millions like her who want to experience that same touch, that same instant cure from Jesus.
If way back then a person could be cured in a blink, why can’t right now a person be cured by that same touch?
I have written about this scripture before. I’m certain I’m not the only person in this weary, worn world who has the same question.
I will go to my own death with that question on my heart, and so will million others.
Maybe God and Jesus understand, but as a mere human being, I’m sorry, I don’t.
I’m not a subscriber to Bible Gateway, but I do look at the daily scripture reading.
Today on Sunday, July 26 the reading was from Hebrew Chapter 11 verse 1: “Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.”
With our health, when we’re “77 years young” we want to have confidence in hope.
And undoubtedly, we want an assurance—no matter how dire our circumstances, we want to be able to touch like the woman in Luke did.
And, we want to hear the same words she heard with her honest, heartfelt confession: “your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”
might be baloney 