Category: Creativity

The Woman who Bled for 12 Years

Recently Matt preached about the woman with the issue of blood, and as part of that service, I wrote a monologue to read before the sermon began. Here it is!

I have been invisible for 12 years.

I felt myself wasting away from the inside out, felt strength withering from my bones in the heat each day.

I hate crowds, hate the crush of flesh and smells and sounds, like an ocean current cutting through the city, carrying a life that I’ll never know. People going to work, to weddings, running errands and meeting friends. That day the crowd was waiting for Jesus, hoping to see a show, and I watched from a doorway, kept my distance as usual.

It can be glamorous to be sick, if you know the right people, if you get the right disease, if you get better. I failed on all counts.

People cared at the beginning, brought meals, said prayers. But when the prayers go unanswered, you run out of things to talk about. “How are you?” Starts every conversation. And ends it because my eyes can’t lie – I am dying, drop by drop in slow motion shame. My skin aches for a kind touch, but my disease is polluting – like I’m spiritually contagious, waiting for forgiveness not for sin that I’ve committed but for the person I am.

My family is gone, and my friends gave up on me a long time ago – they moved on with their lives while mine has been stuck on pause. Until that day when Jesus came and Jairus asked him to heal his daughter. I know snake oil healers, catch the gleam in their eye when they promise what a difference silver coins will make, and when mine were all spent they melted back into the crowd.

Jesus was different.

When he went with Jairus, the crowd almost swallowed him up, so eager to see a miracle they would have crushed him on the way. But while the crowd pulsed, Jesus didn’t hurry – his measured steps were so sure, that I suddenly realized he was my only hope. He was actually going to heal a sick girl, not just put on a show and collect a paycheck. I pulled my veil over my face and pressed through the crowd. The flesh and the smells and the sounds swelled around me, and I gasped like drowning, but this was no time to die, not when life itself was passing within my reach.

I lurched through the crowd, shoving past bodies much bigger and stronger than my frame, eyes locked on Jesus’ back, giving no notice to the gasps and murmurs of those who realized my condition. If anyone could heal me it was this gentle, yet determined man who was on his way to a noble cause and wouldn’t even notice, if I could only touch the hem of his garment.

When I reached him and touched his cloak, it felt like reaching cool shade after walking through parched fields in hot sun. It felt like cool, clean water from a well after 12 years of drinking from puddles and streams. It was so good to be whole, that at first I didn’t realize the crowd had stopped. That the ocean current driving to Jairus’ house had stopped, and that people were staring. At me.
Jesus had noticed, of course he had, and while I stood stunned, feeling my heart beat and the wind on my face while everything else was on pause for a change, he saw me. I was no longer invisible.

When I found my voice, I fell at his feet and told him my story – I have been bleeding for 12 years, and nobody has been able to help me, but when I saw you I knew – I just knew – that you could make me well. And when I touched your cloak I was healed, and I will never ask for anything again in my life. He smiled at me and said, “Daughter, your faith has healed you. Go in peace.”

And it was so.

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Paint Name Fun

Another side project I have on the go is finally painting the apartment we’ve lived in for 4 years. Matt said we should paint when we moved in, and I am finally ready to admit he was right. So we have had a lot of fun together looking at different colours, reading up on interior design, and choosing what to put on our walls.


Of course, people who invent colours can’t use the regular names for colours that I learned by reading crayons. If you thought taupe or cyan were weird names, just steer clear of paint stores or websites.

For your pleasure and amusement (as well as my own) I have invented a new system whereby you can choose what colour to paint your room, home, nails or dog. Simply take the word that corresponds with your month of birth and the word that corresponds with what day your birthday falls on – that’s your colour! All yours, a personal gift from me to you.


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Other Writing Projects

Over the past several months I have been part of a curriculum-writing team for junior high ministry. The curriculum is now live, and I wanted to spread the word about this great, FREE resource.

Connected logo (square)

Check out the first lessons for junior high and senior high curriculum by clicking the image above or following this link, and the rest of the curriculum should be posted shortly, as the editing process has been completed.

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Poetry: Steadfast Love

When I came to verses 22 and 23 of Lamentations 3, they stopped me in my tracks with their goodness – an oasis of hope after two and a half chapters of despair. I spent the day humming “the steadfast love of the Lord never ceases, his mercies never come to an end” and along came this poem as a prayer for God’s truth to seep into all the cracks of my soul and become my truth as well.


The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases

But my patience dries up like grass

Turning brittle and sharp

In the heat of late nights and clingy days

Erupting teeth and toys underfoot

I find you at the end of myself.

Like the beach where island meets ocean

Where jagged rocks are worn smooth by endless current

Where the shards of my feelings, broken like bottles

Are disarmed and made safe

And grains of sand remind me of your promise,

The legacy of one soul devoted to you,

The offspring of a thousand generations that you bless

Beyond counting, the weight of Earth

Does not tire you,

As one heavy soul tires me.

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A Poem for My Mom

It’s mother’s day tomorrow, so I’d like to dedicate a new piece of spoken word to my very own mom! Click read more to see the text of the poem.

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