She bled for seven years. Seven long years. None of the doctors could heal her. There was no treatment, no answer, no way to make things better.  The very same liquid, when poured on the altar in the Holy Place was considered a worthy sacrifice; but when it poured from her body it classified her as unworthy, unclean, untouchable creating a wall of isolation around her.

She heard the news. She listened to the stories. She hoped they were true.  All she had to do was to make her way through the crowd and get near him.  People gazed at her as she wondering why she was in public in her condition.  She pretended not to hear the mumbling pulsing in her ears. She pushed her way through the throng; she kept focused on the goal, focused on the master. Nothing would get in her way now.

Hope flowed through her as her fingertips touched the hem of his garment.

Luke 8  ⁴⁷ Then the woman, seeing that she could not go unnoticed, came trembling and fell at his feet. In the presence of all the people, she told why she had touched him and how she had been instantly healed.⁴⁸ Then he said to her, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”